Mack The Knife
American Idol 2: Episode 19


Eeeeee! We're down to Three, and what a week this is. First Bomani Jones writes a lengthy piece on Salon calling American Idol 2 racist because she's sure Kewpie is winning it all. Okay, she has some valid points regarding racism on TV, but I wonder what alternate universe she is living in to believe that there is a heavier Kewpie pimping over Ruben. Ruben is... everywhere. If Ruben loses this one, it's because Kewpinities have faster fingers, bigger autodialers, bigger modems, and bigger fanaticism - the canonization of Kewpie is their new jihad after all. The media has been relentless in pimping Ruben, and if they are to believed, apparently everyone from God to the cats in the alley love Ruben, "America's Velvet Teddy Bear". The fact that we're talking about a morbidly obese wheezing smiling bobble-headed bowling ball who has yet to utter a complete sentence in the last five weeks - too busy is he wheezing and trying to catch his breath after going through a laborious eighty seconds song routine - apparently we don't care because he does a decent cruise ship impersonation of Peabo Bryson. We don't care that his voice is already going, we don't care that show business will really kill this guy (first stop: Project Ethiopia). We don't care about Burger Queen.

This is what the Kewpies are coming out from their holes in the ground braying and moaning on every single message board this week. They are crying foul. They resent the fact that Ruben is being pimped everywhere. Among the many ridiculous conspiracy theories I've encountered, some are amusing: the show deliberately forced Kewpie to sing Vincent, apparently a "gay love song", to make him come off gay (because Kewpie is straight according to these idiot girlies, and the fact that Sleazebag himself announced that Vincent is a song about Vincent Van Gogh flies over their head - all songs, to idiot Kewpinite teenyboppers, are love songs, so there) and that they made Kewpie sing an extra verse in the last minute, that's why he forgot the words to the song (there are always Kewpinities who will swear under oath that Kewpie told his "friend" Amanda after the show that the show producers made him add a verse - as opposed to Kewpie merely forgetting the words, because we all know Kewpie is God of their overheated nether regions and he will never ever forget the words to a song).

And then they wonder why nobody cares about what they are saying and why people are actually openly ridiculing their fears. Kewpie is the second most pimped sideshow on American Idol 2, we are talking about a guy who has been crowned the Top Two since the first day he appeared on the show. We endure countless idiotic tongue baths over Ruben and Kewpie even when they do nothing better than to come on stage and squeal. We support other contestants who have to practically point a gun at the judges just to get half of their due. So when the Kewpinites come out and start crying foul just because their idol is getting less than a smidgeon of tongue-bathing they feel that Kewpie is entitled to, forgive us if we really don't give a damn. Forgive me if I have seen Trenyce going through ten times worse the uphill fight Kewpie got and to see that the media is more concerned that Ruben is safe when they interview her in the press. Because compared to Trenyce and her cohorts like Creepy Rickey and Livvy Oliverie, Kewpie has had it very easy.

Then there are the Rubenites rightly concerned about a Ruben backlash. They too have their conspiracy theories: they believe that the show is pimping Ruben so heavily because they want a rating killer event of the "underdog" Kewpie winning over Ruben. Some believe that Kewpie commands a higher number of votes each week than Ruben, and the show is deliberately setting Ruben up for a fall for the Sweeps.

And where does the Burger Queen, Kewpie's Beard and the long forgotten third member of the Three, factor in this? Nobody cares. Therefore it is appropriate that she performs her best night ever on this show and then be quietly eliminated as the media trumpet the battle of Goldilocks versus Goliath next week. Burger Queen has been Trenyced.

Anyway, on to this show. I keep reminding myself that there is only one week more to go before we can close to the door on the saga of bad fillers, horrible medleys, corny celebrity judges that are slightly more useful than a third pinkie, and the farce of a show where the winner is crowned ten weeks before the actual Finals. Also, this week sees Charmaine Miss Paula and King Tut really getting creepy in their huggy-wuggy, ticky-feely, "Let's be like Moonlighting antics. Guys, King Tut sniping at Miss Paula's acid-induced pink bubble bunny talkies and Miss Paula answering that she's speaking American so of course King Tut doesn't understand - this is really getting old. Who are they trying to fool? King Tut is in love with Ryan Sleazebag. That's why King Tut is wearing those tight pants pulled up to his armpits - he's trying to look like Sleazebag's favorite tube of hair gel. It's a LA courting ritual we mere humans will never understand, but it's so obvious, duh.

Today Ryan "I'm more expensive than Abercrombie and Fitch" Sleazebag is wearing a greyish jacket over an orange suit. Like this show, his fashion sense is stuck in a rut. As he runs out and stands there on the stage grinning like an idiot, the camera pans around at the signs the members of the audience painstakingly create in brilliant spurts of creativity that sends nursery art teachers all over the planet into seizures. I especially love "Vote for Kim Locke, Go Kilo!" Oops, wait a minute, it's K-Lo, not Kilo. My bad.

Sleazebag proclaims that we have endured 120 weeks, 874 hours of results, 15,972 "right after the break"s, 654,876 horrible Ambiguously Gay Jokes, 1,987,432,006 incoherent mumblings from Miss Paula, 3,444,774,874 brain cell deaths, and 67,894,343,321,000,996 "dawggerals" from Randy Randy. So, he announces, next week we will know who the new American Idol will be. Yay, I'm so excited. Next week, he adds, will be the special three hour finale. I really can't wait for the rubbish filler moments they will throw at my face. And before you ask, no, I am not watching Monday's special one-hour filler where everybody sings the same old crock and What The World Needs Now Is Love and God Bless The USA for the zillionth time. I have my limits. The three hour finale is enough.

Sleazebag reminds everybody that this is a singing competition, not a popularity contest. Technically, that means everybody shouldn't vote for Ruben, right, since he's the most popular? Never mind, I'm confusing myself there.

Miss Paula, the leprechauns are on the line. They want their hat back, thanks.

Randy Randy impersonates an overripe strawberry and Sleazebag calls him "incomprehensible".

Everyone attempts to create a sitcom moment involving King Tut getting a lap dance from Robbie Williams while Katie Cowrack is watching on some stupid TV show, but it's obvious nobody's heart is in it, so that is thankfully abandoned for the show. Well, that's American Idol 2 for you - 10% actually content, 90% filler, and 100% product placement.

The first of three rounds sees our Three reaching into a bowl to pull out the song title they will be performing. This is a "Random" round. And apparently several zealous Burger Brigade members must have sneaked in and replaced all the cards in the bowl with Band Of Gold, that or "Random" is a synonym for "Rigged", because that's what happened: Burger Queen is "randomly" given Band Of Gold, the song she performed with Frenchie in the Glendale auditions.

And mama mia, Burger Queen really kills the song tonight with a huge dose of glamorous and extra helping of fabulous for good measure. This one isn't as good as the duet she did with Frenchie - which is really, really good - go download it if you haven't heard that one yet. Still, her voice is in tip top condition, the notes are on pitch, and Burger Queen is simply fabulous. She has struck gold with this "Random" song. Of course, it's about time she gets the brand of "random" that Kewpie and Ruben often get on this show, so you go, Kilo the Burger Queen! Of course, a sentimental part of me imagines that the background vocalist is Frenchie, because my ideal Final Three will be Burger Queen, Trenyce, and Frenchie.

Well, no point on dwelling on could-have-beens, as Burger Queen gets her just tongue bath from the judges. Camera pans on a scary woman looking like Ignuanita Barber and E Coli's love child shrieking wordlessly on the camera to Go Kilo. Randy Randy says that Burger Queen is the most improved this season. Miss Paula babble babble petunia purple tulips babble babble babble. King Tut comments that Miss Paula's outfit is "Al Capone". He tells Burger Queen that last week, she was at her worst. Audience booes. King Tut tells them shut up and then continue anyway when they don't. He says that this week Burger Queen is "sensational".

Ruben is "randomly" assigned Signed, Sealed, And Delivered, just how like this show's victory and recording contract is handed to him from 19E. I wish someone - Debra Byrd, please? - will sit him down and force some of Trenyce's olive oil down his throat because he sounds as if his voice has been shot down to hell via sixteen packs of Extra-Tabacco Camel Jumbo Packs. He is a little more active than usual - by this I mean very little left-right-steps and a few punches in the air - and he looks wasted from the effort. This one is nothing special, and it sort of breaks my heart to see his admittedly nice voice getting shot down like this.

Tongue bath.

Camera pans on a sign in the audience: "Ruben, you make my cheer stix bang". I will go bang too if he sits on me. Subliminal cameraman message: vote for Ruben.

Kewpie makes his drama queen "Oh bugger me, Nelly, I'm your humble cherry YMCA shower room lover" faces as he reaches his hand into the bowl and gets Vincent, one Don McLean's more popular obscurely worded rubbishy overlong anthems. Someone must have heard the Julio Iglesias karaoke cover and deem this song perfect for the conference room muzak supplier in Kewpie. Now, anyone who have heard the original version of this song can testify that the song is long, long, long and worse, repetitious as hell. Imagine the song done in an eighty second format. Man oh man, Kewpie just sits there, forgets the words, and tries to bluff his way through by going "St-AAAHHH-ree st-AAAAHH-ree... la-da-da... *pause to look down dramatically for effect*... n-AAAYYYYY-YEEEE-ight!" This is hilarious to watch, and I laugh so hard until I am pounding my heels on the floor because this is Really Really Awful. The audience is so quiet, you can hear Kewpie's mega turd-bombing all the way to Ulan Bator. The show lighting tries to replicate the Solitaire halo effect for him ("Starry, starry night", get it?), but it only makes him take on a radioactive yellow glow around him, further adding to my perverse hilarity.

Randy Randy says that it is boring and not Kewpie's performance. Miss Paula assures Kewpie that it is okay, even the best performers forget "a little" of their lyrics. (King Tut snorts and asks Miss Paula, "A little?") Oh please, Kewpie hasn't earned his dues to be considered a "best performer" yet. King Tut says flat out that it was a terrible performance.

Kewpie, may I suggest that you don't use the trowel to slap on that layer of clown make-up, please? It's scaring me. You're making Liza Minelli's Cabaret character look authentically male by comparison. And lay off the hair gel - not everyone is secure enough in his queendom like Sleazebag to pull off the effect. You're not cute enough to kiss Sleazebag's bum, much less pull a Single White Effemme on him.

Round One's over, and now we're on to Round Two, where the Three will each sing songs selected by the judges especially for them.

Randy Randy chooses Anyone Who Had A Heart for Burger Queen because he believes that the song will be great for her voice. He hates her. Kelly Cluckson did an amazing performance of this very same song last time, and now he wants Burger Queen to step up the game? Unfortunately, Burger Queen can't. She starts out really breathy and too low, as usual. She never recovered from that missed starting note, and spends the rest of the song singing through her nostrils.

Of course Randy Randy will say she did good. Who wants to announce on TV, "Yo dawg, I screwed up dawg, but I ain't mad, I ain't mad, dawg"? Miss Paula babbles about how Sarah Hughes came and stole her fruity pills away, and King Tut rightfully asks her what the heck she is talking. He tells Burger Queen that he is not blown away - the performance is safe, good, and there's one more song to go.

King Tut chooses Smile for Ruben. For a man who once wanted Ruben to step away from the Barry White routine, he's not helping Ruben here. He says that Smile is a happy song for Ruben, so obviously King Tut hasn't actually studied the lyrics to the song. Ruben probably did, he doesn't smile that much as he sleepwalks through this song. Or maybe he's just hungry. And his voice is really hard to hear because he was so good, now he's just rough and husky and missing all the notes.

What the heck. Judges, tongues at attention, get set, go. Miss Paula says that Ruben's dimples are his "money shot". Pass the bong, hon, now I really need it bad.

Sleazebag points out Quentin Tarantino in the audience. Tarantino loves Ruben! Covert message: vote for Ruben. Supposedly punk-ass Tarantino is on the AI set. He is now officially sitting at the bottom of the barrel when his credibility and desperate camera ho-dom are concerned. What next? Samuel L Jackson wanting to duet with Kewpie?

Miss Paula chooses the lounge anthem Mack The Knife for Kewpie because she wants Kewpie to prove that he's not a lounge singer. I doubt Miss Paula knows that she has openly said on TV that she wants Kewpie to screw up the song really badly to make her point. Because Kewpie is a lounge singer, and this overwrought overdramatic Power Note overdose proves that. It's a song about a lady killer, but Kewpie sings it as if it's the new McDonald's commercial theme song. "Get your Happy Meal/One medium fries/Medium sized Coke/And baby, yummy Big Maaaaaaaacs!"

This is just not Kewpie's night, is it?

Tongue bath. Kewpie makes bashful faces that are creepy and anything but humble.

Now we go on to Round Three, where the Three get to choose their own songs to sing.

Burger Queen chooses Inseparable because she finds the lyrics meaningful, yadda yadda yadda. Still, she absolutely nails this one. Everything comes together nicely, and watching her, listening to her, I can easily imagine paying good money to have her perform in those intimate small venues where hubby and I can cuddle and sigh at how romantic life is. I sincerely believe that this is her best performance ever, and she even comes alive at this particular performance. So of course, since this is her best night ever, she'll be booted tomorrow. That's the way this sucky show operates. Talent is for ugly people. Yay for mediocrity!

Randy Randy comments her - "Good job" - and says she's really trying to win this. Duh, of course she is, you twit. Miss Paula yippie chippie dancing hippos floating red bubbles yippie yippie. After his scripted swipe at Miss Paula, King Tut turns to Burger Queen and says that this is the first time they have three really good contestants in the Final Three. Nugget McKibblet from last year, listening to this, must really burn inside - first they are sitting on her record deal, preventing her from signing up with another label to do the music she wants (she wants to do rock, 19E wants her to do country), now King Tut is openly sniffing at her on TV. Nugget isn't good, but compared to Josh Don't Tell and Carmurp, she rocks by comparison. This season's finals are better than last season's - the latter may as well be called A Million Gay Jays And Only Three People Who Can Halfway Sing - but King Tut is overstating how good this season is, really. After all, we've only two American Idol seasons, not enough to make credible "first time" statements.

King Tut suggests that Burger Queen may win this. Now that is cruel. Everybody knows that Kilo the Burger Queen has no chance in hell in winning this, so stop stringing her, you jerk.

Sleazebag announces that it's now time to watch "very influential short films": tampon sales pitch, insurance commercials, and promos for How My Stage Mommy and Pedophile Stage Managers Ruin My Life: The Kimborlee Caldwell Story AKA Junior American Idol.

Back to the show, Ruben chooses Peabo Bryson's If Ever You're In My Arms Again. So much for raising the bar. As usual, he's back to his routine, grabbing hamburgers, only this time his voice is wretched to listen to. The botched Power Note towards the end is particularly bad. He had a nice voice, but even the act of hitting a high note fatigues him.

Tongue bath.

Sleazebag uses his hand to wipe the sweat off Ruben's forehead and calls for a towel. And an ambulance, but hey, that's just me.

Kewpie loves his mother and his mother loves Unchained Melody. So he sings Unchained Melody. If he unzips his pants and pulls himself off on stage, it can't be any worse than this farce of a performance that sees Kewpie wailing hysterically to reach unnecessarily high notes, distorting this song into nothing more than a jumble of overenunciated but incoherent high notes soaring out to shatter eardrums and sanity everywhere. "Eye YEEEEEEEEED yuh LoOOOOooooOOOOO-OHHH-OFFFVE!" he goes, and my hubby declares there and then that Kewpie, not Carmurp nor Josh Don't Tell, is the real antichrist of manufactured pop pap.

Tongue bath. King Tut suggests that they vote off Sleazebag this week instead of any of the Three. Sleazebag tells King Tut that he wants to pay his mortgage.

Sleazebag shows Kewpie a poster featuring Kewpie's portrait and the words under it, "Clay is my AmerAIKEN Idol". Obviously someone can draw and paint but she is using her skills for evil. Kewpie points out that one can see his brain through the nostrils in that portrait. Way to go, Mr Booger-for-Brains Oh-So-Humble.

Sleazebag points to some inconsequential TV brunette bimbo and says that Kewpie makes her melt. Subliminal message: vote for Kewpie, are you happy now, Kewpinites, so stop flooding our inbox with your stupid badly misspelled "Ruben s fat n gross n ugli Clay is the best u all sux u jelus!!!" emails.

The show is almost over. We see Sleazebag shooes away the camera crew in some silly attempt to look spontaneous, talks to the Three about how the Finals will be held at a bigger venue, the bigger the better to put a giant Vanila Coke bottle monolith thrust upwards like a mighty phallus from the center of the stage so that Kewpie can cavort around it to make happy lil' innocent Kewpinities happy.

Oh, and Sleazebag points out that Burger Queen's fly was undone during her performance.

Crickets chirp. Nobody cares, because it's just Burger Queen after all.



Yay, a one-hour results show. Time for garbage TV. Sleazebag shows up in a somewhat-loose blue shirt, pulls the ponytail of a blonde chit who holds the sign "Ryan pull my ponytail". Rumor has it that it was King Tut who tried to sneak in and hold a sign saying "Ryan pull my pony" but lucky enough for Decent TV Everywhere, they caught him in time and make him sit back down at the judge row. They use today's modern computer technology to put a blondie there in King Tut's place, because we all know you need blondes to keep up your illusion of heterosexuality. That is, until you run out of blondes, and then you stick to the Burger Queen. Ain't that right, Kewpie?

No, King Tut, we mean blonde females. You're pathetic. Settle down, don't get too excited. Are you saying that Sleazebag is a natural blond?

(I hope my fillers are far more entertaining than the actual fillers they put on this crap show.)

Sleazebag assures us that tonight will be fun. Tamyra and Justin Gurgling are coming. How amusing that they never invited the second runner-up Nugget to perform on this show even once.

Sleazebag calls King Tut "Mr Manboobs". Sleazebag, stop stealing my schtick, you unimaginative son of a Brylcreem, or I will sue your lipo'ed ass. King Tut asks "What?" and laughs when Miss Paula repeats what Sleazebag just called him. He really has a nice smile. No, I didn't say that.

Sleazebag says that "we" love Randy Randy but "we" don't let him sleep in the house because he's a "dawg". He also says that Miss Paula has a new man in her life. I hear that this man's name is Bobby Tauret, but I'm just repeating unsubstantiated and definitely untrue rumors.

Sleazebag then proceeds to recap last night's "drama" (he says this word with an exaggerated expression on his face and an even more exaggerated little shudder), reminding people that Ruben is the best (vote for Ruben), Kewpie screws up but bounds back, Ruben is good, everyone loves Ruben and oh yeah, Kewpie, and Ruben Ruben Ruben. Oh, and there's someone called Burger Queen who sang last night too, whatever. Vote for Ruben.

Then Sleazebag announces "the musical threesome" of the, well, Three. Since we don't really have a theme this week, the Three end up doing a medley of songs that mostly allow Kewpie to derail his tonsils and screech like an overwrought hard-up banshee. The first song is Up Where We Belong, where Kewpie drowns out Burger Queen's decent opening line with his entry. I actually think Nicole Kidman sang better in her Moulin Rouge movie. The song then segues to an equally dull version of Reunited, where Kewpie and Ruben get real solos and not just one-liners. Kewpie then single-handedly ruins Solid As A Rock as they all run down to the audience for the now predictable synchronized mingling with the hoi palloi thing. And that's it.

Just when things can't get any worse, Sleazebag reminds everybody that Tamyra is in Boston Public (conveniently omitting the phrase "recurring role"), as if that's actually a good thing. Then comes the lady herself, with her Beyonce Austin Powers hair and all, and proceeds to stretch Somewhere Over The Rainbow for, like, eight years. So this is how they intend to drag this show to an hour! "Some... ... ... ... where... ... ... o... ... ... ver... ... the... ..." I think I must have fallen asleep, because I dream that Trenyce and Burger Queen are in the Final Two "... ... ra... ... ... in... ... bow... ..." Trenyce or Burger Queen? I don't care who wins, I'm so happy for the both of them "... ... way... up... ... ... ... ... high!" Zzzzzzzz.

The judges' standing ovation wakes me up from my lovely, lovely dream, and I hate life all over again. They're probably relieved that the rigor mortis is over.

Sleazebag embraces her and calls her "class act" and "beautiful". Then his sleeve button gets tangled up in her hair, they all laugh, and I yawn and look at the clock.

Then she's gone. Why is she here anyway? She's not having a CD out soon or anything, is she?

Now we have a "funny" clip which sees Burger Queen shopping in a red Corvette. Then we see Ruben ironing Kewpie's hair and blocking Kewpie from the mirror (hidden message: Ruben owns Kewpie) as they both get dressed up for their big date with Burger Queen. Burger Queen grows an extra set of arms - yes, you read that right - so that she can curl her hair and apply her lipstick at the same time. She then wears a really unflattering evening gown, drives to this splendid posh theatre, pushes Kewpie and Ruben aside, and selects Sleazebag instead. From Kewpie to Sleazebag - our professional beard is moving up the ranks fast.

Then Justin Gurling's performance is announced, with Sleazebag inviting the ladies in the audience to throw their G-strings while telling Randy Randy to put his down ("It's a little awkward"). Thanks for the image, Sleazebag, you owe me a new set of eyeballs. Of course, we are reminded that Justin's CD is coming out on June 10, the movie From Justin To Kelly Straight To Video So God Help Us All is coming out just as soon, and no, Justin and Kelly aren't getting it on, they're just playing characters in love, hee-hee, whose names just happen to the same as their real names! So here's the deal: they want teenyboppers to project their adolescent "Justin+Kelly 4eva!" fantasies onto the show while asking critics and tabloids to understand that the movie isn't a projection of the teenybopper Shipper fantasies. And here's the deal, losers: you all suck, the movie suck, so please head back to obscurity as soon as possible, thanks very much.

Justin sings Unchained Melody, and see, this is another reason to dislike Kewpie: he makes Gurgling Fuzzpick here sound really, really good in comparison. He shows Kewpie how the song should be sung by androgynous sexually-unthreatening centerfolds with bad hair for prepubescent teenyboppers. While Kewpie blasts out the song with all the subtlety of a power drill, at least Gurgling is more understated and listenable. Even if Gurgling sounds as if he's gasping the sound out in between throes of a Randy Randy induced orgasm. I'll stick to the Righteous Brothers' version, no thanks to these Twinkies With Bad Hair here.

Sleazebag shakes Gurgling's hand once the performance is over. No hugging. American Idols are supposed to be straight. Only the host and the judges are allowed to get it on.

Finally, we are down to the results. But as Sleazebag focuses on each contestant, first we see a clip of each contestant's recent hometown tour. Burger Queen's clip is the most watchable of all, because she comes off the most normal, for the want of a better word. Ruben's all about Representin' Uh The 205 thing, with everyone cheering and declaring that they love Ruben, so they all finish Ruben's sentences or they speak on his behalf. Having the Velvet Cholesterol Bear talk, walk, shake hands, and sign autographs for longer than eighty seconds? He'll die and then we will have to make Burger Queen the American Idol. Oh, the unthinkable horror that will result in! Kewpie, oh Kewpie. The moment he steps down from the helicopter, he lifts his hand to wave hi - and the very swift helicopter pilot pulls his hand down just in time to avoid a Dr Romano of ER scene that will scar those prepubescent girlies for life. He visits the YMCA where he spends five seconds "working once more with my special ed students" - the emphasis being on "special ed", of course. He throws a baseball like a complete sissy. He's obviously a catcher as opposed to being a pitcher, something I'm sure those sailors, soldiers, cops, Native Americans, and construction workers dorming at the YMCA are aware of. They also thoughtfully show the infamous ruining of the American national anthem by Kewpie who wails off-key like a broken siren. The Kewpinites are as always fast to defend him by saying that nobody sings the American national anthem without going off-key. Yo, Dubby, can we charge all of these idiot girls for treason or something that will see them sent to some concentration camps in Quebec for life?

Kewpie's face is convulsing in its usual melodrama one-man show when Sleazebag announces a break. Idiots in the audience scream, "Don't worrt, Kewpie", and Kewpie quickly slams shut the closet door, scared to venture outside to this world where insane virginal prepubescents are clawing each other for a chance to listen to Kewpie's Ultimate Power "Oh Oh Oh" Note when he finally deflowers them one by one. Please stand in line, girls, and take a number.

Back from the break. Sleazebag calls Burger Queen down. He calls Kewpie too. These two hug, quickly reiterating that they are the best of friends forever, friendship never dies, Hello Kitty tumblers are cute, and Care Bears Eternal. Ruben sits on the bench, staring ahead vacantly, until Sleazebag calls him down too. He waddles down to the Seats of Shame and stares blankly ahead at the camera: "Want... hamburgers". He absently hugs the other two, and everybody pats each other, congratulating each other on being so magnanimous with his or her friendship, on his or her talent, on himself or herself for being so brilliant and sensitive in light of the threat of ouster. So much love in the house today, isn't it wonderful?

King Tut says he is proud of all three of them. "You served us well," he tells the three future slaves to the 19E entertainment machinery like an overlord who can afford to be generous to his slaves who pleased him for now.

Sleazebag announces that they have 19 million votes last night, and the difference in the number of votes between each contestant is only 2%. Burger Queen will personally hunt down all you 4% who didn't vote for her after she gets booted to shove down Golden Whoppers down your throats, so quickly grab your Ronald McDonald holy symbol now, people. She walks away after the other two walk away, but Sleazebag calls her back to watch her eulogy video. She says in the video that she's glad this show is not all about image - never mind her playing Kewpie's beard or straightening her hair and losing weight and the judges deigning to notice her only after she did all this, what image? This show is all about talent, Burger Queen has spoken, all you people better believe it, hmmmph! Kewpie cries. Ruben hugs Burger Queen, smiling stupidly, probably having taken a few hits in the bathroom before this show because he seems completely zoned out. Burger Queen sings Inseparable, and then they quietly hustle her out of the scene, reminding everybody that next week, Ruben and Kewpie will be duking it out in the Most Anticlimatic Clash Of The Boring Goliath Versus Overdramatic Goldilocks. I'll just be sitting at the sidelines, not really giving a damn, just glad that there's just three more hours to endure.

Who should win, you ask? Um... Bert and Ernie should win. Yeah, that's my choice. Go Bert, go Ernie!


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