It’s the last night of auditions, starting at 9 EST/8 CST (there was a repeat of Chicago at 8 PM, for those of you who couldn’t get enough of sword swallowers, child dancers, and people who wear baggy blue jeans and flannel to make their debut on national television). What an emotional moment. Thank you for spending this special time with me, especially since we only have to last through another hour of it.
I can’t wait to see what spectacular performers they saved for last. Surely they cannot top the adorable little moppet who sings like an angel, or the humble Southern guy who sings like an angel. Pick whichever of the five dozen of those you liked best.
ALL. GOOD. THINGS. MUST. COME. TO. AN. END. Yells the Impact font at the show’s start. Then we realize there’s going to be a little kid in a sombrero performing tonight, so I think they’ve come to an end before this episode has begun. The l’il fellow, age 3, is part of a mariachi dancing group, called Mestizo Ballet Folklorico, with two older kids. They dance with machetes, which seems awfully similar to running with scissors. The kids appear to be sharpening the knives as they prance around being adorable, so if this doesn’t work out, there’s always Next Food Network Star.
After some synchronized swimmers who wear high heels in the water–another fundamental rule of safe behavior exploded–comes a comedian the judges like, even though we hear only one joke (about peeing in a pool, so at least a good segue). Then we are treated to two buff guys performing a homoerotic hoop-spinning acrobatic act. Only in America, kids. Although I think maybe also in certain parts of Turkey.
Timber Brown is an acrobatic entertainer. His mom was a drug addict and his dad was an alcoholic. I hope his grandparents were only gamblers. When he appears on stage, Mel cries out that she knows him and everyone gasps, thinking she’ll file another paternity suit. But no, they just did a show together in Vegas, which means she can’t vote this round. Timber proceeds to climb a large pole and balance on his hands on a hoop at the top. Then he hangs horizontally off the pole and momentarily fondles it before wrapping his torso around its girth and suddenly sliding down the whole length. Look at that, I just wrote another sequel to 50 Shades of Grey. But Timber feels this was not his best performance. Maybe he failed to help the entire audience achieve orgasm. Kris Allen’s Live Like We’re Dying plays in the background – MJ
Next comes our first angsty-young-girl-with-guitar of the evening. Skilyr Hicks, the spelling of whose first name makes me weep for the future of our nation, is 14. She tearfully tells the story of her father’s tragic premature death, earning PR points as easily as frequent flyer miles from a trip to China. She will perform a song she wrote herself, because nothing written previously could possibly capture her unique viewpoint on life, captured by lyrics including “hope,” “sorrow” (to rhyme with “a better tomorrow”), “tears that keep on coming,” “a brand new day,” and “everything will be okay.”
Dr. Bob Baker, a gastroenterologist, appears next in his scrubs and carrying his black bag. Is he going to treat someone’s ulcer on stage? Howard explains that he’s his doctor and therefore has given him a colonoscopy. Possibly as a result of the trauma of seeing Howard’s bare behind, the doctor has taken up ventriloquism. He produces a large intestine puppet, for which you really have to give credit to the puppet-maker, who probably thought he had seen it all before that, and leads with a “talking out your ass” joke. I bet watching the live video of Howard’s colon was more entertaining.
After passing on a hula-hooper who belches and a grubby guy who claims he can teach anyone to score a basket, they see a woman who does dirty spoken-word poetry. I think that’s what it was.
Another country singer is next, just the 57,849th on AGT. He puts up power lines for a living. Unfortunately for this guy, he won’t give Jimmy Rose much competition, since coal mining is riskier and more closely associated with the Heartland and workers being trapped underground for days so there can be candlelight vigils and relief telethons. Also, Milton Patton is a name more suited to a CPA than a country singer. Most damaging of all, he’s wearing puka beads. But he does have a nice voice, which counts for approximately 15 percent of a performer’s score on this show.
Finally, we’re introduced the teased potential Susan Boyle Moment person. A big Howard Stern fan–she even looks like him–she’s 63-year-old Linda Ostrowsky, who goes by the name Jetta. Since she’s going to sing Hot Stuff, I guess she is not actually Susan Boyle 2.0, or even Donna Summer 7.5. In fact, she turns out to be Screech Owl with Bronchitis 1.0. At least give the poor woman a make-over; no one deserves to go through life looking like Howard.
And so the auditions end. See you in Vegas next week, when all these non-entities will give it another shot. Personally, I’m rooting for Kicks Bowls Onto Her Head While Riding A Unicycle Lady. G’night!