Big Pimpin’ in OKC: American Idol 12 Final Audition Episode
Decisions, decisions. The season finale of 30 Rock? Do I watch it first? Do I watch it before tonight’s American Idol. Hollywood Week is coming soon, right? Hollywood Week is always the bestest part of the entire season. We have this same conversation (or I have this same talk with myself) every year around this time, the time when one starts feeling the itch for Hollywood Week.
Hogwash and Poppycock! Snowicane White Lady Named Like Dorva Or Something! THIS IS THE LAST AUDITION EPISODE BEFORE HOLIDAY WEEK!!
Knowing it might sound cruel, we should still admit there are a lot of ugly people loitering around the auditions in Oklahoma City. But hey, I wasn’t the producer on this, I didn’t edit it. Yet none of this compares to the ABSOLUTE STUPIDITY OF A LOCAL AFFILIATE REPORTER.
Nikki! Nikki! Who’s the next American Idol?
Nikki looks at the moron incredulously, asking how should she know. For real. THEY ARE STILL AUDITIONING. Naturally, Seacrest takes the time to remind us OMG CARRIE UNDERWOOD is from Oklahoma City and how this year has been a “small-town tour” across the nation. Snort. Bang. Wiz. I am thrilled to see you’ve come to terms with your audience. Someone loves Mariah Carey. Mariah loves them. Oh, sweet, special little lamb.
As a person who knows a bunch of useless information about the Olympics and as the girlfriend of a former rower, part of me feels as if I should have known Oklahoma City boasts the Devon Boathouse, an Olympic-class rowing facility. But then again, why would I know that? Anyway, the Devon Boathouse was where the auditions on this final leg of Idol’s small-town tour of America were held. Probably because it has more windows and picturesque scenery than the home of the OKC Thunder.
Completely unrelated. The Insane Clown Posse has covered Jump Around. In the video, they are drinking the ARTISAN (cane sugar + glass bottles + retro branding) FAYGO.
The Joplin, MO resident (What? No Tornado Sob Story? Surely he can’t get a Golden Ticket.) might be most, albeit briefly, remembered as the guy who wanted to prove gingers have soul, but I will file him away as Ginger Richard Marx because he has Richard Marx Face. (And if you’re not already doing so, follow Richard Marx on Twitter because you’re seriously missing out.)
Karl reminds me of my old co-worker, Terry. And not just because he’s ginger. Turns out, Karl actually does have soul. His James Brown connects a bit more than his original, guitar-laden track. When Keith Urban asks him who he wants to be as an artist — oh Keith, don’t make me hate you because you insist on asking this EVERY DAMN TIME — he says he wants to be incomparable. Randy wants him to be the Idol mascot. Nikki wants him to be the new Seacrest. Yawn. In any case, Karl gets a free trip to Hollywood so that’s cool. Go Joplin! Go pizza chefs! Go little ginger dudes who have no problem loving women bigger than them!
PARADE OF PEOPLE WHO SUCK
The girl with the major weave sounded like she was hemmoraging. Another girl does some really bad Nikki Minaj. Nice, jubilent Hispanic guy in a brown hooded jacket is nice and jubilent. It was an uneventful parade.
CUTE TOKEN ASIAN TEACHES SIGN LANGUAGE BECAUSE HE HAS DEAF PARENTS and sings Stevie Wonder’s For Once In My Life with clear-toned serviceability and some pleasant glory notes. Mariah and Nikki like his voice, the latter also being taken with his overall demeanor. Randy cuts in. Randy says he’s unassuming because he came in with a tie and looked like he was going to do his taxes or something, or maybe he was a doctor, or a lawyer.
Listen up, Jackson. If he was anything else but an Asian dude, you would not have called him UNASSUMING. You racist, dawg, you racist! Not all stereotypes are negative, but even a positive one, like ALL ASIANS ARE GOOD AT MATH, is harmful to society.
Stuffed Dog Named OSCAR manned by suspect pageant type named Halie Hilburn
Sure, she’s a comely ventriloquist, and her husband is cute in a Texas kind of way, but Halie possesses the giddiness one can only be described as SUSPECT. Anyway, typical country gal voice. I sort of want to forget about her immediately since we are led to believe that upon judges’ orders, she not only left Oscar at home, but then he was forced to panhandle before finally chucking it all and ending his life in a dumpster. All while My Heart Will Go On played. Halie Hilburn is a total bitch who let’s go of a promise. And if it was all for show, Oscar better have been thoroughly cleaned after being shoved in a dumpster.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh at me. I love dark humor but never when it involves a real or stuffed pet named OSCAR/OSKAR. And Idol never really grasped black comedy, hell, unless you count Gokey.
YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL NIGHT FOR THIS AKA ZOANETTE JOHNSON
I heard all about Zoanette via my Twitter feed last night, before I even got home from my Fighter FIT class because I was too much of a pussy to take a 10 minute walk home in the “sudden” cold, so I killed time eating a mediocre burrito while waiting for the bus that takes me closer to my home — the Boloco at Berklee College is also the PERFECT environment to get into the mood for snarking about a reality singing competition. It’s like a goddamn episode of Glee in that place. I was also kind of moving slowly after all those damn pushups and squats. In any case, the Idol portion of my Twitter feed blew up. A star had been born.
When we meet 19-year-old Zoanette, she is unapologetically in our faces. She is unapologetically shaking her ass. She does not care if you can see her panty lines, hell, she doesn’t care if we can see the entire panty. Zoanette decides to sing The Star-Spangled Banner and it is a towering heap of melisma. It is the Colon Blow of melisma. It’s messy and ridiculous, yet it never veers unequivocally into absolute trainwreck. There is something there, underneath the melisma. We’re not sure what, but there is something there, even though it has no idea what octave it might be on.
Zoanette, and all those before her and all those who will come after, exist mainly because of Mariah Carey. And Whitney Houston, of course, but no one more than Mariah Carey fostered the notion of judging a singer’s ability by how high they can wail. And now Zoanette is standing in front of Mariah. Standing, pointing, feeling out the imaginary scale with her hand just like she’s seen Mariah do. THIS IS WHAT YOU CREATED, MARIAH. (But we can blame Tommy Mottola, ok?)
Zoanette doesn’t need to know the words to the National Anthem. Zoanette is a child of reality TV. Zoanette wants Obama to invite her to the White House. Zonette is obsessed with herself. Zoanette was Honey Boo Boo before Alana Thompson was born. The judges send her through to Hollywood. Unanimously.
THE SAD MONTAGE WHERE THEY SHOW THE PEOPLE WHO ARE PROBABLY ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD YET GOT DENIED
Set to the strains of Mariah’s You’ve Got Me Feeling Emotion—which is probably a contractual thing. Moving on…isn’t it sob story time? I need to go to work.