Kids, Kangaroo Fuckers, and Kinky Attractions

Last night Idol gave the top 12 guys their first chance to perform. Last night, I realized that I'm an old lady. I'm an old lady because I can't help it, I think David Archuleta is adorable. There. I said it. I'm out with it, and unless he really fucks up, I'll probably be sticking to that for quite a long portion of the season because I imagine he's going to sweep the grandma vote.

There won't be much suspense from the boys as we move into the top 12, because, barring some unforeseen calamity/curiosity such as stigmatic bleeding onstage, I think it's safe to say that Michael Johns, David A, Robbie Carrico and Jason Castro will be moving on.

As for the other two slots, I'd like to see Danny Noriega squish his hot little, head wagging self through. He will absolutely infuriate Simon. Though I did feel a little bad for him having to stand there and take the "grotesque" comment repeatedly. He seemed to hold his comportment when Simon slammed him with that critique. He seemed shocked, as was I, when Seacrest just kept on fucking repeating the word. Ryan was like one of Skinner's pigeons, pressing the food pellet lever, unable to stop himself with his nearly tourettish repetion. "Grotesque. Grotesque! How do you feel about being called grotesque?" The fuck?

And I know I'd previously mentioned David Hernandez, but I've come to realize I had an instant affinity for him because somewhere in my own lustful lizard-brain I was primarily happy to be taking another trip to Oz and was thrilled to see Alvarez out of solitary.

Anyhow, Hernandez may squeak through, because I really don't think that Luke Menard will. Speaking of Oz and lookalikes, is this guy the lovechild of Luke Perry and Orlando Bloom or what? He's cute and he seems to not be flaunty about it, but he knows he is. He was stunned to find out that he's boring. And it was that dimwitted, milquetoasty-pretty reaction, too. Like he wasn't defiant about it. Just in his worldview, he's unable to compute the idea that attractive doesn't automatically equate to interesting. But, boring he is. (Funny thing though, as boring as he was, at least I recall enough about him to write this. Boring leapt to somnifacient lows with everyone I'm not talking about.) And poor Luke, he's also not really pretty enough to bother propelling him forward.

Pretty with personality is Jason Castro. What can I say? He works the dreads. There's a bit of a Shannon Hoon vibe about him, and I've run across about 500 guys just like him fifteen years back at Dead shows. But, you know, I enjoyed my youth and those were good times and I like to reminisce, so that actually makes me like his neo-stoner vibe. The familiarity, for him, is working for me. Maybe for disco night he'll bust out some vintage Dead and do "Shakedown Street" and get himself a whole slew of patchouli-scented votes.

Robbie C will get through, though I don't really have any comment on him yet. Simon isn't sold on his "authenticity." In other words, Simon doesn't want him to really steal any thunder from the man from down under. So let's talk about that guy.

Michael Johns. Since everyone looks like someone else to me today, this guy is Tim Daly with Guy Pearce's mouth. Fitting, because in Guy's second-best role in Memento (his best being, of course, Ed Exley) he kept repeating the same shit over and over. Michael Johns is here on AI, vying for a recording contract. He's been there before, when he went by the name of Michael Lee, and he landed the contract with Maverick and then apparently crapped out.

It's a whole sordid story, but I don't even hold those allegations against him, as it seems his former band doesn't, and I completely understand how with youth and the offer of fame and fortune, it's easy to make a few moves that can come across as douchey to an outsider if you don't cut some slack. Nevertheless, you know when he starts to truly irritate me, I'll be bringing up that spotty past and crucifying him with it, so that even if we don't have stigmatic bleeding onstage, I can draw blood on my blog.

I know. Truly, I know. Right now, everyone's in love with him. He's hot. He can sing. He doesn't have "authenticity" problems. There's nothing obvious right now to peg him as an asshole. There's the slightly affected Morrison-esque slither to him. The thing that always cracks me up about that act is this. Jim Morrison, whom I do adore, moved the way he moved because he was fucked up, man. He wasn't being sexy. He was stone-ass wasted and staggering as he was trying to be sexy. And I'm reasonably certain that Mr. Johns wasn't dropping five hits of windowpane while polishing off a fifth of Bushmills before he took the stage for American Idol. If anyone has the capacity to go that route, I'd put my money on Jason Castro, not Johns. (Or, perhaps, if his fanbase goes all fantard Claymatish, after about five more years and some rollicking success followed by chart-bottoming crass Christmas CDs, David Archuleta may have some mild-to-severe prescription dependencies.) And, of course, last night already had Pauler on display in this wasted mode, to the point that when things got too heavy, she had to rest her head on the table and even Simon slapping her leg couldn't revive her. Now that's a pop-star, baby.

But I digress. My point is this. Michael's assholery is not yet blatantly evident. But I think I see glimmers of it. Between his toothy smile and carefully messed hair and douchey hipster scarf and calculated hip shimmies, it's there. Dormant, but festering. And for fuck's sake, they already gave him the pimp spot and the Burger King flames.

It's written all over this show. They're hoping he'll be their lucky number seven, the male winner they've always wanted to crown. Most likely, like Daughtry, he'll crap out at number two or three, because as Guy taught us, history has a way of repeating if we aren't paying close enough attention.

But I also have a feeling that no matter what, as long as he's around, I'll be loving this season. Luke Menard, meet "not boring," and his name is Michael Johns. Michael Johns, welcome to AI 7. I wish you a long and lusty run.