You know, this is getting almost exciting now. The top 12 acts will be knocked down to six tonight, and I find I actually care that a few of them make it through to next week. Not that much, mind you, but more than I care who will win the run-off for Public Advocate of New York City or whether Miley Cyrus contracted a yeast infection from swinging stark naked on that wrecking ball.
Whom do you want to be in the top six? I’m rooting for Kenichi Ebina and the KriStef Brothers. Yes, that’s only two, but I don’t find anybody else that exciting since Red Panda got ixnayed. If Innovative Force wins, they’ll be splitting that million bucks among all 54 or however many of them, so it’s community colleges all around.
Betuxed Nick takes it over live from Ryan Seacrest on Million Second Quiz. When did New York City become the live competition show capital of the country? The new Public Advocate should look into that.
Nick explains that the stakes last night weren’t just high, but sky-high. In the review segment, The Chicago Boy who messed up cries. Branden looks forlorn as he watches Forte perform. Everyone laughs believably as Taylor does his shtick. The make-up people powder Mel’s forehead. A crew member mops the stage floor. Jimmy Rose looks concerned while Cami sings. Five whole minutes are filled without paying the camera operators. And in the Orville Lounge, it’s like a Fellini movie without the subtitles.
Who won the coveted Snapple Viewing Party going on tonight? Some people named Hoffman in Lockport, NY! But they don’t look too happy about it. Snapple must have failed to provide any liquor with the peach iced tea. In any event, the Hoffmans want Kenichi to win, and, from the looks on their faces, emcee Tom Cotter to leave.
Now for some performing pups. If you want to know the meaning of joy, watch a bunch of fluffy dogs riding a scooter (or try refrigerating Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls). These canines are more talented performers than Innovative Force and the Chicago Boyz together, although I suspect their shampoo bills are higher.
Next, Nick ventures into Times Square to search out some talent, presumably other than the kind where you need to wear protection to enjoy it. Incredibly, there’s a comedian who is less funny than Taylor.
First result now. Chicago Boyz and Kenichi Ebina come forward. Kenichi gets it. Mel assures the Boyz that their errors last night did not prevent them from moving forward. No, it was just a lack of votes.
The second toss-up is between Innovative Force and Cami Bradley. It’s probably not a good night for giant groups of jumping youth. Indeed, Cami gets the spot. I predict breast implants within a year.
After a momentary visit back to the viewing party, where people Cotter describes as “so excited” look like a 19th-century photo portrait, we are mildly entertained by ventriloquist Terry Fator. His puppets resemble a Real Housewife who has clearly had ironing work done on her felt, and Jimmy Rose after an accident in the coal mine.
Next come more Hallmark-inspired montages of the remaining contestants as they discuss their feelings about being on the show, accompanied by tinkling piano music. If you were wondering, they are all thrilled and honored by their AGT experience.
Now the KriStefs and Taylor Williamson come forward. Howard thinks both acts should go through, and he’s not happy that one is going to be out. Taylor gets the spot, damn it. He assures awkward geeks everywhere that social maladroitness can pay off.
Now Forte and Branden James are up against each other. Forte wins the spot. No worry, Branden can co-star with Clay Aiken in a revival of something by Sondheim.
At the viewing party, no one is drinking any Snapple.
Next it’s D’Angelo and Amanda vs. Jimmy Rose. Well, Ruby will feel better now. Indeed, Jimmy scores the spot. He takes a moment to remind us that it’s 9-11 and everyone affected is in his heart and prayers. Aw, he’s such a nice small-town, coal-mining, country singing Marine veteran.
Finally, Catapult goes up against Collins Key. The kid lands it. Apparently, his supporters are called Key-pers. He still needs to improve his showmanship, lectures Howard, overlooking the importance of approving non-imbecilic fanbase names.
So until next week, when our final six will battle to the bitter end, where a check for a cool million waits, and the tax bill on it, too. Good night, people!
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