American Idol: Guy Next Door vs. Guyliner

Oh Ryan, you master of the turn of phrase. Clever little frosted minx. I'm gonna miss you when they pack you back up into your E! radio locker and I don't get any of you until next January. Sigh. The last competition night of the year! It was... just aight.

There were definitely some box-blowin', roof-rattlin' performances last night. But on the whole it all just felt a little... staid. And, heck, America agrees with me. Maybe it was that Nigel Lythgoe (or whoever chose their second songs) chose kind of uninterestingly. Or maybe it was that neither Paula's nor Kara's heads popped off and sailed into the light-stained rafters of the American Idol Thunderdome. Whatever it was, I hope tonight is more of a blockbuster. A fingerbang. A brouhaha. A Scotsman's Sundae. A Chinaman's Vacation. You know. A Happening.

The Good
Lillian Kristina Allen wins the night with "Ain't No Sunshine", what with its dizzying escalator trills upward, its Splash Mountain doo-hoo's downward, and its cool as a cucumber wearing sunglasses at a Miles Davis concert in Patagonia simmering in the chewy middle. I knew Boyzone could sing, but dag, Ricky! Fool can blow! And I mean, come on guys. Just look at him. Just look. at. him. He's like if Rene Russo and Tab Hunter were on the same time-travel sex tourism trip and one crazy thing led to another and a baby got made. That sly devilish smirk coupled with those perky, Dan DeCarlo-esque, boy-next-door inkblot eyes. He's a stack of posters just waiting to be sold! How can he not win? Sure, "Brother, Brother" or whatever

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