"A Sophisticated Affair"

Marilu Henner’s in the audience, kids! Wow, it’s Marilu Henner! She was on Taxi! Um…it was a show in the ’70s. It also starred Judd Hirsch. Look, Kenickie from Grease was on it too. Nothing must stop the camera from cutting to any formerly well-known person. Nothing.

Seacrest, tentatively revisiting the unshaven look and riding the wave of excitement over Marilu Henner’s attendance, starts the show by saying one weird thing and two lies.

The weird thing: “The family unit shrinks again.” If I were to touch that line I’d suddenly be guest-starring on Queer as Folk.

The Lies:

1. “It’s a sophisticated affair,” in reference to tonight’s theme, The Great American Songbook. It’s a musical concept the Final 7 most likely had to have explained to them (possible exceptions: Hicks and Elliott, maybe McPhee).

2. Then he calls Rod Stewart, the ridiculously dressed, Klute-haired Brit of “Hot Legs” fame and current reigning mauler of American music’s Top 100 nursing home classics, “the ultimate performer.”

Cut to Rod in a prerecorded segment, explaining away his newfound leech-like attachment to this music in rock and roll terms, claiming that it was the foundation for rock. That’s right. Chuck Berry and Little Richard had nothing to do with it. It was all Rodgers and Hart’s doing. “These songs,” he says, “they’re really in my blood.”

Cut to Rod’s Gen Y fiancée and the latest infant recipient of his DNA. That lucky kid will never have to spend a moment of his childhood being tormented by any of his father’s rotten pop radio hits in heavy rotation on the radio like I did. The gruesome, syrupy, possibly carcinogenic “You’re in My Heart” followed me around for months in 1977. Punk was in full swing by then. Just not for Rod. He was on the cusp of plunging headlong into leopard-print jackets, “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” and crotch-announcement spandex leggings, so his recent reinvention as a standards crooner for lame-os is no surprise. He’s mercenary above all else. The other thing about that baby in wife-to-be’s arms is that he’ll be insanely rich. That makes me hate him already. Yes, I hate a baby. What are you going to do about it?

Rod Stewart thinks Daughtry is great. He says so in a little clip that shows them working together and having a grand time. Then Daughtry announces in his personality reel that he’s going to do “What a Wonderful World.” YES! HE’S GOING TO DO THE JOEY RAMONE COVER OF THE SONG! THIS IS GOING TO BE RAD! IT’S ABOUT TIME DAUGHTRY ROC—Oh. The slow version. He’s showing how versatile he is. So tender. So earnest. And just look at that glad-face he’s got on. The ascot is a nice touch too. It really complements the wallet chain. He thoroughly yawns it up. The judges enjoy themselves, though. Randy, always ready with a thoughtfully considered comment, yells, “It was da BOMB!” Paula agrees. So does Simon. Seacrest congratulates Daughtry and notes that Mr. Rock got rid of last episode’s one-week beard growth. “And the eyeliner too!” he says. Daughtry chuckles sheepishly about his bad-decision goth moment. Good thing he kept the Swanson Frozen Dinner logo sideburns. Those, like the wallet chain, go with everything.

Rod Stewart thinks Paris is great too. But Paris is conflicted. Does she leave the studio in her smart pink middle-aged lady suit and phony ponytail and trot off to her new job at Washington Mutual, or does she stick around and sing “These Foolish Things (Remind Me Of You)?” These are tough choices for a young girl to make. She doesn’t want to be late on her first day. But there’s some sangin’ to get done, so she stays put. And she really stays put, standing stock-still for the duration of the ballad. I’m bored until I see someone in her family has made a supportive sign featuring SpongeBob SquarePants and suddenly I can’t stop wondering what the connection is. Every family has inside jokes. Randy yells, “It was da BOMB!” Again. I’ve decided, like just now, that Paula’s opinion matters more than Randy’s and always has. Paula tries very diligently to make sentences. Different ones every time. She fails a lot at this, but she tries. Her thinking wheels are always spinning in her head, making whirring noises and smoking from the friction. If her skull were made of glass, you could see it happen. But all Randy wants is his own catchphrase.

Rod Stewart thinks Taylor is great too. A pattern of almost unsettling, genuine-feeling niceness on the part of Rod Stewart seems to be taking shape. No Stevie Wonder “don’t hug me” diva moments. No Barry Manilow stiffness or superiority. None of Kenny Rogers’s inscrutable, expressionless double-talk. Rod acts like he enjoys being here and would do it even if he didn’t have a terrible album to promote. But then, Rod is probably getting more sex than all three of those other dudes combined. I would lay down money that every day is like going to Your Body Is a Wonderland theme park for him.

Taylor Hicks is in a decent suit. Who made that happen? But hold up—before I talk about his song performance, I have a minor announcement to make. Taylor Hicks no longer makes me want to stab myself in the head. I’ve decided that he’s the most entertaining thing about this show. I still think he’s 47 and comes off like the kindly teacher who has to chaperone the other contestants on their field trip to the dinosaur museum. But his wacky antics last week finally won me over. He’s still a writhing mass of affectations and mental-case physical tics. But that’s the part I’ve decided I like. I hate it when he’s normal and boring. I like it when he spazzes it up. I need loony bar-band sax-solo insanity. I need contortions. I want him to always be the lusty wolf in an old Tex Avery cartoon, eyeballs popping out of his head and tongue unfurled to the floor. But I draw the line at that effing harmonica. If he whips that out again, it’s no deal. I’ll revert back to my old position. Really quickly. But for now, there it is. Now the people at GrayCharles.com can stop placing burning bags of dog poop at my front door.

Hicks sings “You Send Me.” All quiet and normal. WAIT A SECOND, MAN! I JUST SAID I WAS STARTING TO NOT WISH THAT YOU WOULD BE DEVOURED BY WOLVES! MAKE SOME CRAZY HAPPEN! But just when you think all is lost, he starts in with the hunching and bouncing and yelling. It’s almost like he forgot his signature moves until the middle and then made up for it in the last chunk by doing them all at once. I approve of this. After his big finish the crowd goes mental. The camera cuts to an enthusiastic delegation from BlackPeopleLoveUs.com.

It’s commercial time. A trailer for Poseidon, a remake of my all-time favorite movie, The Poseidon Adventure. I haven’t seen this commercial yet, so I’m kind of excited.

Oh, shit, it’s Fergie from Black-Eyed Peas. Why is Fergie from Black-Eyed Peas in this commercial? She can’t be in the movie, can she? Black-Eyed Peas is the worst hip-hop band ever. Don’t people understand this? 2 Live Jews were better than Black-Eyed Peas. And she’s the worst singer in the worst band ever. That makes her the double-worst. I’m freaking out now.

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