The Malcontent

But He Was Never In . . .

Adam Lambert finally . . . uh . . . sidles into his sexuality? Gullible fans and enthusiasts spent the larger part of this year's Idol season being strung along by that show's publicists as media breathlessly sold copy on the question of "Is he or isn't he?!" There had been the usual speculation that Idol producers were silencing Lambert from discussing his orientation freely rather than, say, deliberately playing coy to generate more and more interest (and ratings) as the show barreled towards the finale.

The muzzling scenario only works if you believe Simon Cowell and others possessed the full powers of Shiwan Kahn, willing columnists, magazines, and thirty million viewers to never notice Lambert's single-man march to a Xanadu laced with heroin chic.

Rolling Stone has the ultimate anti-climax, with a cover and title that would be frighteningly anachronistic if it weren't so dishonest. "The sexual liberation of Adam Lambert?" Was there a single moment during the season and attending publicity (and internet photos, and career in musical theatre, and public appearances with his boyfriend) where Lambert was anything but liberated? Where did they attach the fierce shackles of heterosexual oppression, to his platform boots or the sequined pauldrons during the final Kiss number?

Actual gay progress would be denoted by the lack of "Yup, I'm Gay" media roll-outs. When they're no longer necessary, we've progressed.

Somewhat related, Andrew Sullivan uses the occasion to make a typically clueless observation about American culture. The Burning Man festival is based on self-expression accompanied by rampant drug use. Certainly nothing the older gays would have anything to do with. Only Lambert's newly liberated gay generation would participate in such a thing.

With A Partial Penumbra of Mescaline

While the original is still the best, I've been pretty entertained by the literal video craze that's filled YouTube in Dustin McLean's wake. Even though I'm usually familiar with the songs being spoofed, I was still into tonka trucks when most of the original videos were made and have never seen them.

Case in point, Bonnie Tyler. A song usually in heavy rotation on, and yet . . . how did I miss this?

 

A Taylor Made Freak Show

I don't want to talk about it. When the fire came cascading down and Great White's manager was nowhere in sight, I knew it was all over.

David Hasslehoff was crying. Crying. In German, no less. It sounds a lot like shizer dialogue to hear it. Which is to say nothing of the fisting America received when that . . . that . . . thing took home the trophy.

Still, let's lump this up in halves. How to fill a two hour show dependent on a five second announcement? Plenty of performances, but also plenty of painful, cringe-inducing bits like extended dining lessons between Kellie Pickler and Wolfgang Puck that left us praying for a future mobile home accident on a treacherous mountain road. "Caleeemaaareeee?!" Die.

I've sorted through the fluff for my favorite moments, including the "surprise" appearance by the Gayken. His jittery, squealing, orgasming look-alike made the entire bit. I'd like to take this opportunity to chastise our readers as well. How is it that there was footage of Ace Young and Chris Daughtry in a crushing, grappling man-hug, and no one alerted us?! For shame. That is hours of fantasy we'll never get back. Also included in this clip is the winner's announcement. It was the fluffiest thing of all.

[Watch video – 9:50, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 9:50, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Before I get to the performances, let me just say this - If Katharine had sang half as well during the competition as she did in last night's finale show, she would have won hands down. Now more than ever, I'm convinced song choice was her ultimate undoing. Not that I'm excruciatingly bitter or anything. Not at all. Moving swiftly on.

There were far too many performances to capture, so these highlights are by no means comprehensive. Chris Daughtry appeared with the band Live. Their album, Throwing Copper, came out back in the 19th century when I earned my driver's license, so I'm partial to them. Does Meatloaf have Parkinson's? The man schooled Hicks in the trembling performance department. Still, Kat shined and decided to, you know, emote. Now that it doesn't mean anything. (ed. Robbie, you're bitter!) I'm not.

I'm not ready to see Taylor Hicks freak dancing with Toni Braxton. I don't think anyone is.

One last parting shot of the Manateesa (hate!). Kevin Covais singing What's New Pussycat is the stuff of recurring nightmares. Dionne Warwick showcases what happens when you smoke five packs of ultra strength Marlboros a day for fifty years. Then again, she knew who the winner was all along, right? The blood-drinking seems to have paid off for Prince. I'm sorry, whenever I hear his music I think of the Joker mucking up an art museum. The purple doesn't help. And finally, Kat does a little stand-in-place jog-dancing/dress-foofing a la Jennifer Grey at the end of Dirty Dancing.

[Watch video – 15:37, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 15:37, WMV format, low bandwidth]

It's The Circle of Awful, Simba

After 43 posts consisting of 61 video files that account for a whopping 731.65 MB of our server space, we've come a long way from the January 17th premiere of American Idol. A water cooler show that began with a focus on some of the most horrifying "entertainers" this great nation of ours had to offer, it has been a long, spiritual, nuanced journey to May where we're about to crown . . . one of the most horrifying "entertainers" America has to offer.

So, well done there.

What is there to say? Poor Katharine McPhee suffered an ambushing of the highest order with a tripey, overwrought ballad called "My Destiny" when a more accurate title might have been, "Kat Really Wishes She Had Testicles Right About Now." Way to set the key in the Marianas Trench! Not even a still-touching rendition of "Over the Rainbow" could save her against the most treacly, masturbatory excesses of producers and a music industry hell bent on selling their audience aural sominex.

Taylor Hicks. *sighs* What more can be said for this seizing ball of shimmering purple velvet? For the first time in Idol history, the gay male vote will not prevail against this touring Vegas lounge act. Tom Jones is spinning in his grave. Or women's underwear. Spot the difference, eh? Personally, I blame pre-teen girls for this atrocity. Lazy, good for nothing kids today. Can't even be assed to vote en masse. Bring back corporal punishment!

Here are the six performances from last night's finale. Observe that jacket and weep. America picked that jacket. America likes that jacket. America will buy tickets to see that jacket. America is dead to me.

[Watch video – 14:48, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 14:48, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Our Malcovision American Idol Finale Extravaganza continues with these clips from this weekend's Saturday Night Live. Kevin Spacey knows all the right moves to win the hearts of Americans and wandering strangers in parks at 3 AM. Not to be outdone, "Taylor Hicks" appears on Weekend Update, if only to prove the man is beyond parody.

[Watch video – 6:54, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 6:54, WMV format, low bandwidth]

And finally. We laughed with her, cried with her, attempted to match her shot for shot during every show. Paula Abdul stumbled onto the set of Larry King Live after over-hearing rumors the man will marry anything. She discusses her fellow judges and addresses all those rumors about dominant bitch-top, the Gayken. Could it be we are mere hours away from a world without this simpering psychiatric patient?

As they announce the winner tonight, I will sprinkle a martini laced with vicodin onto a curb in her honor.

[Watch video – 5:44, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 5:44, WMV format, low bandwidth]

I'm Moving to Canada

Taylor is going to fucking win.  In a walk.

America, I weep for you.

And Then There Were Two

Buh-bye, Elliott.  Tough call, but there are clearly a lot of palsy fans in the nation.

So who will win?  Who should win?  Take our two-question poll.

Or just view the results.

Judy and Eva Conquer All

I am ever so barely resisting the impulse to gush for paragraphs on end about the transcendent Kat moment on last night's American Idol. Slaves that we are to shrine building when a Judy song - and that Judy song in particular - is done so exquisitely, we'll wait for the proper time and place. It will be difficult.

Elliott, poor Elliott. Rather bland renditions of perfectly neutral songs. The selection may have sunk him. While a Yamin/Hicks finale seemed destined, he faded to an elevator top 40 in the face of his competition. With a vibrato to make steel girders tremble ominously, I look forward to spending hours in the produce section of the local grocery while being serenaded by his inevitable album.

Taylor Hicks was forced to stand there and sing . . . and failed utterly. Despite the drug-addled praise of judges, our resident marionette on acid warbled off-key through "You Are So Beautiful." Sensing danger as an army of housewives came to the slow realization that albums don't come with the freak dancing, Taylor quickly set to work to work repairing the damage via over-laden hypnotic limb jerking.

Katharine. My Katharine. My acapella, Eva Cassidy channeling Katharine. More than politics, more than marriage, more than partisanship. If the gay masses do not lift Katharine McPhee on a golden divan and carry her through the streets to victory, I will hunt you all down with an efficiency to make Fred Phelps blush. Yes, the execrable Clive Davis made her shriek her way through that wretched R. Kelly song. It wasn't her fault. It was sabotage! Come now, my pink hordes. Unleash your powers of fabulousness and bring down the Hicks abomination. He's who straight people want to win. We'll not stand for that sort of thing as a people, will we?

[Watch video – 10:50, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 10:50, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Speaking of the strange and bizarre, the judges were once again tonsil deep in the Jesus juice. We've seen 28 Days Later. We know where Paula's behavior leads. By season's end, Simon will be discussing each contestant's personal journal and how shimmery-shiny their natural selves are. He will generously pepper sentences with "amazing" and "adore" and idly flip through a portfolio from Ace Young's recent photo shoot.

Mal has put together all the weirdest moments, including yet another reason to burn Taylor Hicks in effigy.

[Watch video – 2:02, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 2:02, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Daytime Sight-Seeing

Admittedly, I'm feeling a little skint in the blogging area of late. This week I've learned that there seems to be some sort of national tiff developing over immigration, and gay activists really, really hate Mary Cheney. Check out these reviews. So, we gay folk are basically a writhing horde of petulant eight grade girls. Excellent. That being what it is, I've decided my only coherent contribution is to shamelessly ogle cute male celebrities. In that spirit . . .

Justin Chambers, the aforementioned Grey's Anatomy hottie, sat down with the harpies of the View this morning. While the character he plays, Alex, is a self-absorbed hard-ass, Justin seems quiet, unassuming, even shy. Then again, who wouldn't shrink in terror when faced with the withered plastic visage of Starr Jones Reynolds? I could quibble with the goatee and why on earth his hair is parted that way, but he still fills out a pair of jeans quite nicely.

[Watch video – 6:06, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 6:06, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Nick Lachey visited everyone's favorite lesbian this afternoon for some mama bear treatment and to perform a badly off-key song, much to a backstage Chris Daughtry's eternal amusement. Chris, however, has no reason to snicker. He somehow came to the conclusion that singing that Bon Jovi song for the billionth time on his thousandth talk show appearance was a terrific way to not-at-all get us over him. I've spared the musical repeat from the clip.

[Watch video – 10:50, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 10:50, WMV format, low bandwidth]

I'll Never Let Go, Jack Chris

Come tomorrow night, we'll be marinating in alcohol as we attempt to suffer through the tepid trio that yet twitches before us. For now, one last highlight as our week of mourning over the premature axing of Chris Daughtry from American Idol comes to a close.

Chris, making guest host Jeff Probst look positively scrawny, stopped by Regis and Kelly this morning to perform Bon Jovi's "Wanted." In a post-performance interview, he addresses fans, rumors, and what lay ahead with his after Idol career. He also invites those who love him to feel him up, if not outright hump him, should they spot him on the street.

Ok, that may not be precisely what he said, but it's what I heard, our lawyers be damned.

[Watch video – 5:18, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 5:18, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Why Elliot Will Win

Columnist John Podhoretz applies a political model to "American Idol" voting and predicts a winner.  He could be onto something.

Of the three remaining contestants, I think Katharine would make the best Idol (my criteria being someone who can sell records and sell out venues), probably followed by Elliot.  I just don't see how Taylor is as sellable as the others.

[Thanks, Alan!]

Shock, n. See: "Daughtry, Chris"

SPECIAL NOTE to "Access Atlanta/AJC.com" readers: Thank you for visiting this site.  A little controvery erupted among some of the readers of the site that brought you here about this being a "gay" blog, so I applaud you for choosing quality video over homophobia.

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Chris Daughtry and others on "American Idol" seemed genuinely shocked by the rocker's early ejection from the competition.

Umm, ever heard of the Internet, Chris?

His reaction was a multi-tiered masterpiece, evincing his barely concealed disgust at the unparalleled boobery of the Idol-watching public.

Paula was disconsolate, while Simon watched dollar signs fly right out of the Kodak Theater.

The stills below capture the range of emotion, but what was most priceless was watching Daughtry's face dissolve in a nanosecond from frivolity and smugness to naked rage.

[Watch video – 3:58, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 3:58, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Idol Results Show Warm-Up

Worth Repeating has, as usual, the three gayest moments from last night's "American Idol."  Predictably, they all involve Chris Daughtry.

Meanwhile, Dialidol still has Katharine and Chris duking it out for last place, with the latter slightly more likely to be sent packing tonight.  Sir Tics-a-Lot continues to lead the pack.

America, suck my balls.

Rent Lied, My Career Died

At work, I needed to find out how many minutes are in a year, so I naturally went to Google, having forgotten about those famous lyrics from "Seasons of Love."

While the answer "525,600" is right for a typical calendar year, Google returned an answer for the actual number of minutes in a year as 525,948.766.  Turns out, that is the exact length of time is takes the Earth to revolve around the sun, and nearly six hours more than Jonathan Larson wrote.

This explains why we add a leap day every fourth year, and the extra imprecision entailed in "almost six hours" means leap years will occur only in some years divisible by four.

Here's another strange piece of trivia: If you copy a Web URL that begins with "http" and paste it into the Windows calculator, it spits out the value of pi:

I found that one out by mistake.  But I'll have to remember it next time I need to figure out how big a pizza is.

Seacrest Wishes It Were A Thong

A pissy, prissy Ryan last night. Not only did he basically call Paula Abdul a gigantic whore on national television (oh yes, he did), he severely overcompensated when Chris Daughtry finally told the world his pants dampening underwear secret (oh yes, he did). That white button down is the closest we've come yet to a shirtless Chris. Coupled with the boxer briefs revelation, yes please.

Singing. Right. I'd nearly forgotten - you really can almost see everything under that shirt, can't you?

Well, this looks to be the bow-out performance for poor Katharine McPhee. The best female vocalist in the competition, I hearted her when she first sang "Since I Fell For You" in the final twenty-four premiere. Despite breakout renditions like "Someone To Watch Over Me," she has struggled in a season over-laden with musical catalogues geared towards male performers. When the songs are in the wrong key, she leaps into the wrong pitch. This week's Elvis selections (Priscilla's looking postively clownish, isn't she?) may have been Katharine's undoing.

Elliott has surged forward in these final weeks, doing some of his best work to date. Unfortunately, his teeth seem to have made a big comeback as well.

I don't care about the Elton John sunglasses. I'd still call Chris daddy.

Taylor (argh!) Hicks managed to tone down the being-brutally-assaulted-by-jellyfish choreography for his second song. He's going to win, isn't he? A legion of middle-aged women have totally voted for this man, haven't they? Why has America forsaken us? After a moderately enjoyable season, this jerking epileptic abortion is going to be the big pay-off? There is no God, no justice, and no salvation. We truly are doomed as a culture and a nation.

[Watch video – 8:32, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 8:32, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Sense of Impending Doom

Don't Leave Me, Kevin!

Sean Preston is getting a sibling.

How much white trash can one planet take?

Not So Sure We Want More

I had been contemplating a short New York excursion to see Elton John's musical adaptation of Lestat. I've always been a big fan of Anne Rice's earlier works before she found Jesus and suckitude. The reviews have not been good. Theater critic Ben Bratley thrashed the play in the NY Times, comparing it to "The Boys in the Band," and reducing subplots to "Claudia Has Two Daddies."

Not promising. Still, others who have seen it insist it's a very good musical. A friend passed the following along. It seems to be a bootleg version of Allison Fischer as Claudia singing "I Want More." I present it at arm's length.

Play That Funky Music, Spastic

If Taylor Hicks was charged with crimes against humanity and the police broke down the theater doors to taser him to death, would we really be able to tell the difference? I don't think so either.

They're getting worse, people. Even the humpalicious Chris Daughtry has resorted to screaming and screaming and screaming. Poor Katharine is reduced to showing Taylor how to properly writhe across the floor. Whereas Taylor always appears to be in mid-seizure, McPhee has thrown caution to the winds and seems to be engaging in a direct "Will Fuck For Votes" campaign.

Elliott and Paris . . . eh, one of them had pink heels. It could be either of them. I've stopped paying attention at this point. Mal has his own nightmares regarding Taylor Hicks as depicted on the right. Agreed. We need union grips dropping three hundred pound lights and things before this season goes horribly, horribly wrong and our twitchy little spastic takes home the crown. We pray Dial Idol is severely mistaken.

[Watch video – 7:40, WMV format, high bandwidth]

[Watch video – 7:40, WMV format, low bandwidth]

Arjan Simmers

Blog pal ArjanWrites had an unbelievable view of Scissor Sisters and Madonna at the Coachella Arts & Music Festival.

It was 96 degrees there yesterday, which means that he probably got sweat on by Jake.  A lot.

We're not jealous.  Nope, not at all.  [Punts dog through plate-glass window]

Yamin?! Yeah, Man

"American Idol" viewers have finally confounded the heretofore peerless dialidol.com, giving Kellie "I'm a mink!" Pickler the heave-ho, rather than Paris Bennett.  (There is a God!)

Katharine McPhee joined Chris Daughtry as one of the top-two vote-getters, despite dialidol.com's prediction that she would end up in no better than third place.

Meanwhile, bloggist Kenneth Hill goes out on a limb, predicting an upset victory by the sheep-vibratoed Elliott Yamin.

Turns out, the limb he's on belongs to the ugly tree, and Elliott hit every branch on the way down.  I don't think Elliott has quite made the physical transformation that Kenneth sees (his "cute factor"?), although there have been improvements, especially dentally.  But I don't know how you fix the way Elliott goes cock-eyed every time he grins.

Money quote from Kenneth on Paula's bizarre crying jag after Elliott sang on Tuesday:

She's so sensitive at the moment, I think she must feel air molecules colliding with her skin.

Has there ever been a potential "Idol" outcome so up in the air with five contestants left?  Has it ever been so possible to care less?

By the way, did y'all catch the sadder acoustic version of Daniel Powter's "Bad Day" during Kellie's highlights montage video?  Does that mean Chris will get a death-metal version when he gets voted off?