Tonight is results night with guests Brad Paisley and Robin Thicke. At least I know who they are, or in once case, who his father is. Last night’s 12 performers must wait nervously for nearly the entire hour in the Orville Redenbacher Lounge or the Jiffy Pop Room or wherever the hell it is to learn which four of them have made it to the next round. The rest of us can enjoy snacks and check Facebook in the Living Room.
In the previous hour, there’s an on-screen countdown to the live show, since they know everyone is getting disgusted watching a repeat of something they just saw 24 hours ago. There are two minutes and change to go by the time our eardrums are sustaining a second assault by Tone the Chiefrocca.
Live from RCMH, Nick is in various shades of blue. There’s the typical lightning-fast review of the acts, as well as scenes of the judges bickering, people crying, the audience cheering, performers variously expressing concern for their chances and confidence in their achievements. Also close-ups of Mel’s cleavage.
Nick questions Howard about whether he was in a bad mood last night, as several viewers have asked on Twitter. No, his face always looks like that.
In the Snapple All-Natural Talent Suite, where not a single item making up the decor comes from the earth, Nick discusses his debacle of a song performance with Marty Brown. The response consists of tobacco juice-spitting and “shucks, ya reckon, sho nuff, varmints.” Asked his opinion of his own performance, Tone the Chiefrocca simply yells a lot.
Robin Thicke sings next in a shiny jacket and clown shoes. Scantily clad girls shimmy suggestively alongside him. Obama ought to look into how they manage to create so many jobs for scantily clad girls in the music business.
Next a clip of Howie disguised as a tour guide, a feat which requires merely a wig. He shows a bunch of tourists around the AGT set. As you can imagine, it’s not at all funny, but it kills a few minutes and they didn’t have to pay any new actors.
First result time! Innovative Force, Struck Boyz (what does that name even mean?), and Aquanuts step forward. Why do the young, nubile swimmers get to wear their robes at this point when the matronly escape artist had to showcase her thighs in her bathing suit? Going into the semi-finals is. . .Innovative Force. America, I’m disappointed in you. Then again, you also liked Cassadee Pope.
Now Brad Byers, Kid the Wiz, and Dave Shirley hear their fates. None of them made it through. Shirley’s kids will have to go to a state university.
Before we learn more results, Brad Paisley appears to further humiliate Marty Brown. His guitar work doesn’t seem very country, but neither do his blindingly white veneers and manicured fingernails. People in Moldavia have to work 17.3 years to afford a single pedicure, you know.
Now up step Marty Brown, Alexandr Magala, and Ciana Pelekai. Only one is going through. Mel reports that despite his poor performance, which incited cattle stampedes across the nation, Marty has a great deal of soup-pawed on Twitter. Indeed, he gets the spot. The sad fact is, Americans don’t like foreigners, even those from Hawaii.
Finally, Forte, Angela Hoover, and T the C line up. Forte is the winner, obviously because everyone loves a show tune even when I get the name of it wrong in the blog.
The last spot is still open, though, to be decided by the judges. Will the terrible comedian or the terrible rapper get their approval?
First, though, a preview of next week, which will include singers, comedians, dancers, a dog act, and an illusionist. Also the guy with the balloon-biting cobra. I wonder if the snake ever injures himself during practice and can’t swallow any rodents whole for two days.
Reviewing the remaining talent, Heidi thinks Angela sucked. Mel likes both of them, which, judging by the size of her chest, is a decision she makes often. Howie says Angela’s material was weak, but that Tone has no material at all. Still, he’s going for the BOOTY. Just like a man. Howard thinks Tone has given us all he has to give, while Angela has potential–but she needs to step up her game. It’s 10:00, Howard, pick already.
So they’re tied. It comes down to the votes from America, so the semi-final goer-to is. . . Angela Hoover. Let’s see if they come up with a better crowd next week. See you then!
