People cashclub this? Shit, *I’m* Watching This!

 

On the other hand, William Hung? Deserves every moment of fame he managed to cashclub out of his AI experience. Thumbs up.)

Anyways, I digress.

*puts down firearms*

The show continues and the blond bonehead opens her mouth for the first time, and where I hope for a pittance, I am rewarded with riches. The girl is so lost she’d ask how many cans there are in a six-pack. She prides herself on being “immersed in the entertainment industry” and says it in such a perky Valleygirl dialect that I almost do a double take. “Did she just say Edu-tainment? Are we really allowing her near our nation’s kids?” I cackle with glee the more and more she talks, ready for the axe to fall when she walks in for her audition.

“Hi, i’m going to sing the Jackson 5 song, A-B-….. uh…. what comes after B?”

She walks in and is such a vapid twerp that Simon starts to go on the same investigative track I was on: hat her brain is actually a tape recorder.

“Can I ask about your suntan?”

“Yeah, my name is Crystal and-“

“No, your suntan!”

“OH! I’m sorry. I’m going to sing-“

“YOUR SUNTAN!”

“My what? Oh, my suntan.”

I’m laughing but my evening is almost ruined when I’ve totally underestimated her singing ability. She belts it. Not the best performance of the day, but she’s definitely not the worst. I frown when she ends, praying the same Gods of Karma who gave Matusow the nuts against the Sheik would bestow a big fat “NO” on the lips of Simon, Paula, and Randy.

Thankfully, they go along with my evil plan and even call her mother in to ask her where Crystal gets her inspiration. She walks in and they decided they don’t need to ask anymore.

Ah, satisfaction. The show continues. One loser down, two to go. Funny hat dude is a lock.

We get to Funny hate dude, and he’s intelligent and speaks well, which has been a lock so far on this show. If they interview you and you’re able to use words bigger than, say, “glove”, you’re going to Hollywood.

I’m looking past the outfit and giving him the thumbs up. Go in and sing, man. Show ’em how it’s done.

Aw man, he’s signing in a cryptic foreign language. Faaaaaaack. Simon tees it up and waits for the appropriate comedic beat.

“Catchy.”

Geekette laughs and starts getting excited. “That means the hyper guy is going to Hollywood!”

“What? No way. No effing way.”

“They said–“

“‘They?’ ‘They’ are the same people that gave Wanda Sykes a show.”

Oh shit, maybe I just ruined my own argument.

Mr. Hyper, whose name is David Hoover, is introduced to us before his introduction and we find out that not only is he barefoot and on some kind of amphetamine, but that animals talk to him in ‘cartoony voices’.

I brace myself for the audition in a way that resembles being excited for a multi-car pileup on the freeway.

David comes in and does something resembling an interpretive dance of the third act of In the Mouth of Madness.

Simon, immediately, says no. Actually, he says Never. Good call. Cover all the bases. Don’t let him show up for a second audition.

Randy says yes, mostly because it takes two judges to get to Hollywood and there’s no way that Paula says yes.

Paula can’t stop giggling though, and… “For reasons I can’t explain,” she squeaks, says YES. David bounds around screaming, grabs his Golden Wonka Ticket to Hollywood, and is still audible in the audition room after the door is shut.

Simon Cowell looks like he just found out Courtney Love is having his baby.

Somewhere, right now, some bookie is trying to work out odds on David Hoover to get past the next round, and I’m putting money down. It’s the Jesse effect.

Do you remember MTV’s “I wanna be a VJ?” It was the first ever reality show voted on American Idol-style. MTV execs sat horrified as the incredibly qualified and knowledgable Dave Holmes lost to Jesse Camp, a moron who didn’t answer a single musical trivia question during the entire contest. His usual answer? “Couch!” MTV’s core audience and its combined IQ of 12 decided that they wanted him to win, the way that the assholes in high school start voting drives for the biggest nerd in school to win Prom King.

Now, Look for David Hoover to be the Jesse Camp of our generation, and for Simon Cowell to kill himself in grand fashion. I’m putting money on it. And now, like any sporting event with money on the line, I’m forced to watch

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