Liveblogging the Idol shitshow
by Kathy Cacace

We’ve finally reached the end of the road. The long, stupid, boring, endless, tone-deaf, oddly styled, kind of Mormon, slightly smarmy, David-ly named road. May the best David win.

WEDNESDAY: THE FINALE

8:23: Brad and I were going to IM this whole finale, but we gave up when we realized there are only so many puns with the word “David” in it, even with two brains working on it. So, we’re ending this season like we began it: stuck with me, dorks.

8:25: They brought back Jason Castro to sing “Hallelujah” again, and, again, I’m as seduced as the first time. I can’t believe I made it through this entire season with my love for a hippie intact. Jason Castro: this is an open letter to you. You’re third runner up on the seventh season of this stupid show. This is a fame that will not endure. My love though…that’ll last at LEAST until there’s a cute contestant on “So You Think You Can Dance.”

8:28: They bring out all the girl contestants to sing a Donna Summer medley. Everyone’s dressed in red. There’s choreography. Amanda Overmeyer (man, I seriously MISSED her!) is stomping around like a Clydesdale. Then they announce…get ready for this surprise…Donna Summer is going to sing!

8:30: A pair of men walk Donna down the stairs like she’s the Queen Mother. Her hair looks like she just pulled it out of the bag. Just because it’s synthetic doesn’t mean you can’t run a comb through it, lady.

8:34: Aw, she’s singing “Last Dance.” This song is kind of one of my secret joys in life; I don’t even have it on my iPod because I don’t want to wear it out. Like “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.” Look, if this show can’t be interesting, I might as well reveal all of my secret shames.

8:40: Carly and that soap star Michael Johns are doing “The Letter.” They paired them up because, as Ryan says, “They both went home too soon.” I would like to point out that, no, hey, actually you put the furrners together. This here is AMURRICAN IDOL. Git-r-done.

8:42: 7 of 9 is in the audience. A-LIST, kids, SERIOUSLY.

8:43: Jimmy Kimmel is doing standup and he either 1. is hiiiiiiiiiiiiigh or 2. got some work done around the eyeballs. And then smoked a whole lotta weed.

8:46: Okay, the boys are doing “Summer of ‘69,” which is MY karaoke jam. I challenge them all to a sing off on this one. Oh wait, I get it, it’s a Bryan Adams medley. I bet you a Coke they haul his geriatric ass out to sing some NEW song you don’t want to hear, and then that song from that Don Juan movie with Johnny Depp.

8:47: YOU ALL OWE ME A COKE. I expect to collect immediately. Bryan Adams looks like a Vietnam vet they cleaned up on “Queer Eye.”

8:50: Well, you all owe me half a coke. He didn’t do the Johnny Depp song. Buy me a diet, I’ll call it even. This is the point of the broadcast at which I’d like to point out that Brad is shooting Zygo and chasing it with water because we have no mixers. He just loves Bryan Adams. He loves his skeletal cheekbones and meth teeth. Brad loves Bryan Adams, and his love is just too strong so he turns to the bottle. Brad Walsh loves Bryan Adams. I hope this comes up if you Google either of their names.

8:55: David Cook is doing “Sharp Dressed Man” with Z.Z. Top, who, honest to God, have been older than fucking dirt since I was born. The reason Ponce De Leon couldn’t find the Fountain of Youth because it’s HIDDEN IN THEIR BEARD HAIR.

8:59: Graham Nash is singing with Brooke White. Brad pitches a fit because, “OUT OF CROSBY, STILLS, NASH and YOUNG, they get NASH??” But I maintain that no one else would do this stupid show, particularly Crosby and Young. They’re way too hip for American Idol, even if they look like Fraggles now.

9:01: This is atrocious. Did the contestants pick their duet partners or did the producers? Because I can’t imagine Brooke was like, ooh, yeah, get me NASH. I bet she wanted Jewel. Or Amy Grant. Or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Or Jesus. Or Moroni. Or I’m out of Mormon jokes. I can’t believe I’ve mined my whole cave of Mormon references. Thank God this season is over.

9:06: Well, Brad is trashed. He tells me to, “type that I’m dancing around! I’ll even make it true! Look, I’m dancing around!”

9:08: Okay, there is no level of my trashy, stupid being that enjoys anything about the Jonas Brothers. Not the tight pants, not the white fros, not the tragically ugly one who makes me want to never have children because WHAT IF?

9:12: Great, they’ve brought back one of the freaks from the auditions and make him sing in front of the the USC marching band. I think it’s important to exploit the mentally disabled, so I’m glad this is happening. I just realized why they do “Idol Gives Back,” and it’s to repay this karmic debt.

9:18: One Republic is singing “Apologize.” I don’t understand what this has to do with American Idol. Seriously, though, it’s like they took the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Z-100, and the Book of Mormon, and one page from the “D” section of a baby naming book, threw it in a CuisinArt, and poured it in a glass with a salted rim. It makes no sense, but it’ll fuck you up.

9:22: Um, they interview David Archuleta’s family in Salt Lake City and they ask the obviously younger woman with his ancient grandfather if she’s his grandmother. And she’s all…NO….and it’s awkward, because yeah, maybe she’s an aunt or something, but also, maybe, fingers crossed, she’s a hooker.

9:24: Jordin Sparks sings in the world’s goldest dress. This is the dress C-3PO’s date would wear to the prom. Yes, we’ve reached the Star Wars reference part of the evening. You can all suck it.

9:32: Okay. So. If you didn’t watch the show, you’re going to think I made this up, because it’s so a lie I would try to convince you is true. But. Jack Black, Ben Stiller, and ROBERT DOWNEY JR. are superimposed as Pips into old footage of Gladys Knight doing “Midnight Train to Georgia.” See? Now I know what the boy who cried wolf felt like.

9:34: I can’t even describe the outfit Carrie Underwood is wearing right now. Okay. Remember the backwards tuxedo everyone STILL gives Celine Dion shit about? Okay, picture that flipped around, with no pants underneath, and then add enormous poofy sleeves on the bottom, like, Carmen Miranda poofy, but also what I can only describe as a Chiffon Train of Endless Faux Pas connecting her sleeves together around her back. Dude, actually, just check Go Fug Yourself tomorrow. It’ll be there.

9:37: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING. I was all stoked that Carrie Underwood was singing a song about having a one night stand (”Blame it on the Cuervo!” and “I don’t even know his last name!”) but she gets MARRIED by the end of the song. Even if it’s a Vegas wedding, any fornication was sanctioned by Jesus.

9:43: The top 6 girls are singing “Faith.” Even when they do a song by a homo, it’s nominally religious.

9:44: Now the top 6 boys are singing “Father Figure,” and they’re all wearing suits and, actually, this is really awesome. I’m legitimately, unsarcastically into this. I LOVE this song, and I love Jason in a suit; he’s like something they cut from a Quentin Tarantino movie.

9:47: Hi George Michael! I love him, seriously, I do. He’s singing something kind of inspirational about charity and giving or loving or something, I don’t know, I’m distracted by his large sunglasses and how he kind of looks like Gianni Versace at the moment.

9:57: Three minutes left. That means we’ve got two minutes of goddamn bullshitting remaining before we find out that David Archuleta won and I can go to bed.

9:59: A British man is cerifying that the votes are legit. He’s British, so that means this is official.

9:59:30: David wins! Haha, psych. Everyone else on the planet gets to make an indistinguishable David joke, so now it’s my turn.

10:00: David Cook wins. That means I can EXTRA go to bed.

10:03: Well, David Cook is singing “Time of My Life,” which is the winning song from the writing competition. I really wish he was singing “Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing, and hoisting little Archuleta over his head in the most triumphant ballroom lift ever. Nobody puts that little baby in a corner!

10:04: Cook wins. He sees his shadow. We get 6 more months of Daughtry rock on the radio. Everybody wins!

TUESDAY: THE DAVIDS PERFORM

8:00: Oh, Jesus. Jesus, jesus, God. That guy who yells, “Let’s get ready to rumbleeeeeeeee” is yelling “LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEE.” And David Cook is wearing a robe and boxing gloves; so is David Archuleta; this feels like a comedy skit I would’ve written in fifth grade, except I would’ve had to incorporate something about the rainforest and, like, osmosis or something.

8:02: Ooh, Luke Perry’s in the audience. Nothing but A-Listers for the finale.

8:03: The contestants are going to sing three songs each tonight, but I’m not sure if there’s a theme for the song choices. Lucky for me, I have a whole fucking moronic boxing-themed montage to figure it out!

8:05: They’ve brought back Andrew Lloyd Weber. That’s great. Because out of all the enjoyable, wonderful moments of the show this season, this newt of a man was clearly the highlight.

8:08: Simon offers the advice, “You’ve got to hate your opponent.” I think he is the only person on the planet more tired of this show than I am. Thank you, Simon, for your apathy. It bolsters my blackened heart. Any new venom I’m able to spew this evening is thanks to you, man.

8:13: Clive Davis is picking songs for the first round: “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” for David Cook and “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me,” for Archuleta. But first, another moronic boxing montage! Are they actually trying to butch up this show? Like anyone besides 13-year-olds and my mother watch it. What would they have done if it came down to two girls? Bake-off themed finale!

8:15: David Cook has managed to make one of the three U2 songs I actually like sound like Christian rock. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…because it’s Jesus. And I’m a heathen.

8:17: Randy proclaims this the “Great Duel of 2007.” Yeah. Agreed. Brad: “MAYBE THAT’S WHY THIS FEELS SO TIRED.”

8:19: David Archuleta is emoting his Elton John with the adolescent passion of a thousand notes shoved in lockers. Ten thousand rebuked prom dates! A million midnight family computer gay porn masturbation sessions? What? Archuleta loves the ladies!

8:20: I should stop calling him gay just because he’s sweet. I’m going to get my karmic retribution by dealing only with idiot boys for the rest of my life. He sounded good, Paula talks for half an hour incoherently, Simon has an astounding amount of cleavage on display.

8:27: Round 2: Two songs from the songwriting competition, I think?

8:28: Oh yeah, it has to be. The David Cook song is called “Dream Big.” Yeah. This could definitely run over the credits to “Freaky Friday,” but only AFTER the Lindsay Lohan song fades out. Dream THAT big, you tool.

8:30: GOD, LET ME OUT OF MY LIVING ROOM. JESUS.

8:36: My mom calls me to say: 1. Did you call me? 2. This kinda sucks tonight, huh? 3: Archuleta’s a little weasel! 4: There’s some man on some subway stealing purses! He pushes women! Don’t stand near the edge of the tracks!

8:39: After crooning some syrupy ballad, Randy says to Archuleta, for the umpteenth time this season, “You are in the zone…you could sing the phonebook and it wouldn’t matter!” This show has a billion viewers and eight trillion dollars in ad revenue. Can we PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE hire him a joke writer next year? Please?

8:45: In the shittiest round ever, Cook is singing Collective Fucking Soul and Archuleta is singing “Imagine” for, like, the sixth time this season.

8:46: Cook is singing “The World I Know.” I forget I know this song until I hear the beginning and then it all comes rushing back: 7th grade, algebra, Peace Frog shirts, my mother driving me to the mall, one goddamn radio station on the ancient stereo in my room that played this stupid song NON-STOP.

8:48: Aaaaand, now he’s crying.

8:54: Imagine. Great. I’m imagining having my Tuesdays FREE FROM THIS TRIPE.

8:58: They’re recapping it up, and I’m getting the hell out of here. See you here tomorrow; y’all bring the forties, I’ll grill some burgers, we’ll both wear the short shorts. Let’s class this finale up right.