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American Idol is for sissies

But the most compelling narrative so far this entire season has been the freaked-out tension of semi-talented and nuts vs somewhat-more-talented and opportunistic, as the producers force-feed us Danny Gokey and Tatiana Del Toro. Obviously it's way more fun to watch Tatiana push the drama into overdrive anytime the camera's pointed anywhere near her, to make a drinking game out of how she never stops fussing with her messy, oversexed hair, to enjoy her repeatedly shilling for new additions to her collection of the glittery, Lisa Frank-inspired, Abdul jewelry line, to hear her Puerto Rican accent come and go whenever the mood strikes. There's not one ounce of her that isn't entertainment on a stick. She could only be better if she were deep-fried and served at a State Fair. So naturally they had to lower the boom on her good times. She's out -- with a last-minute flourish that suggested little more than the show yelling "EAT IT, CRAZY GIRL!" right in her face -- and I'm a little more sad today than yesterday because of it.

Gokey (along with Sarver and that blonde girl whose name I refuse to learn until she's at least in the Top 5) is in. And you're obligated to love him. Look, you ARE. Just give in now. And you're going to love him even if they have to show you picture after picture of his recently deceased wife to guilt you into it. And yes, it's awful that he lost her a month before auditions. And yes, he's not responsible for other people holding up pictures of her to the camera while he sings Mariah Carey's "Hero." But damn, AI! Take your foot off my neck!


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Noah Michelson