Ho hum. Another week, another BORING IDOL!!! I hope this is not a trend. Look, I'm not the biggest fan of country music, but if this doesn't put another nail in the country music coffin for me, I don't know what will. I can't remember a two week stretch of Idol that was this consistently awful. It's really sad that the only thing you need to do to stand out is to sing on-key. There was definitely an air of, “why the hell do I have to sing this f'ing song?” throughout the night, and this is one theme night that should be banished forever – I mean, the country music fans have Nashville Star already. I would rather they sing funeral dirges than this. And I hope everyone appreciates what a great job Barry Manilow did a few weeks ago. Because Kenny Rogers did jack shit tonight other than to creep out the millions of people who did not realize that he had been competing with Joan Rivers to see who could have more plastic surgeries. Man, his eyelids are so messed up from repeated procedures that he looks like he’s blind or something.

Taylor – It felt like the longest 90 seconds of my life. Taylor didn't want to be there, I didn't want to be there, John Denver (God rest his soul) was lucky he wasn't there or he would have died of boredom. Who knows – maybe there was a rip in the space-time continuum in the cabin of John Denver’s plane and he saw Taylor singing Country Roads through the wormhole and then promptly fell asleep at the controls. Look, you can't prove I'm wrong about this, FAA be damned. This is quantum physics we’re talking about! It was so perfunctory and lifeless that it reminded me of one of those novelty Singing Bass wall hanging thingamajigs that are so popular in trailers parks everywhere. Where was the Soul Patrol tonight?

Mandisa – Another contestant who just wasn't comfortable being there. My wife thought she sang this too fast for no good reason, and I just thought she was off-key all over the place. And while having her top hide her hips improved on last week's travesty, the pattern was just too busy. She looked like she was wearing one of those Magic Eye posters, and quite frankly, Mandisa is too 3-D as it is.

Elliott – I thought it was boring. My wife loved his soulful take on the song and grooved with it. I had no idea what song it was. I… uh… that’s all I got.

Paris – I liked this performance better than last week’s, but it had all sorts of pitch problems and she didn’t really bring it tonight. There were parts that were right on, like the last chorus part, where she changed key and just attacked the notes like she was devouring a Gray’s Papaya hot dog. Mmmm… Gray’s Papaya hot dog. Man, I could eat, like a dozen of those bad boys. One time, I bought six dogs and a papaya juice, and as I was walking back to my car, I carelessly took the papaya juice out from the bag which caused one of the hot dogs to fall out onto the street. This homeless guy who had asked me for a quarter on my way in said, “now you GOT to let me have that one”. I obliged him because, hey, it was on the street, you know? I’m not saying I’m Mother Theresa or anything, but I could have stepped on it and smashed into the pavement with my heel and replied, “lick it up, loser,” you know, if I were a real bastard, so it says something sorta nice about me. And I guess that I what I thought about Paris’ performance – it wasn’t awesome, but it wasn’t bad, it was sorta nice. Wait, did that make sense? BTW, that was hands down her best outfit and hair combo of the season.

Ace – Blaaaggghhh. Is that a word? If it's not, then here's my definition – it's the feeling I get when I watch Ace perform – sort of boredom mixed with nausea and sprinkled with the urge to punch the performer in the face. Blaaaggghhh is also how I feel about Justin Timberlake. Ace’s voice is so thin and so reedy that it's like listening to a clarinet recital by a 12 year old. Like, a regular 12 year old, not one of those prodigies who ends up on the Tonight Show and is so über-precocious you want to punch them in the face. BTW, did you notice how many “Marry Me Ace” sings there were tonight? That’s right, ONE. I've also noticed that all the people who told me he was a “really truly good singer if I just closed my eyes and it isn't just his looks” have all recanted. He's got about two weeks left if that.

Kellie – Two weeks ago, Kellie asked, “What’s a ballsy?” Well, it’s this fricken’ song, and apparently, she still doesn’t know what it means. Because this song should have been sung with balls and attitude with a touch of melancholy, but she just strolled into it through the front door and got out the other side without incident. Your typically uninspired Pickler performance. If I told you it was a defiant song about a girl sold into prostitution by her mother would you believe me? Because Kellie sang it like it was about a girl who ate p’sghetti at her local diner.

Chris – Hmm… still sounds like a goat to me. I think people were surprised that he was able to tackle a country song without needing to reinterpret it as a hard rock cover (of someone’s else’s invention *ahem*), but I was pretty bored by the whole thing. It appears Simon’s still mad at Chris, since he could have leveled his charge of boring song picks to just about anyone, but saved it for baldy. I didn’t think it was that great either, but jeez – such aggression.

Katherine – I don’t want to appear fixated on Katherine’s mommy to be status (whether true or not), but when she walked out in that outfit, I thought she was wearing one of those maternity jeans with the fabric tummy panel to let the belly hang out. Then my wife pointed out that she was wearing a shirt pulled over her hips with a short jacket on top. Also, I realized that I had starting yelling about maternity jeans, and even I understand that’s weird. Anyway, I didn’t know the song, so I thought she was singing, “bringing up the evers in me”. I know that doesn’t make sense, but I just went with it. Maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention, but to me, her performance sounded like, “mumble mumble WAIL WAIL mumble mumble WAIL WAIL”. Zzzzzzzzzz. Will the country catch Katherine McBottom-Threever and make her stand uncomfortably with the other two losers again? Eh, probably not, but I thought of that nickname after last week’s results show and I wanted to use it this week. Hmm… it was funnier in my head. Maybe if I repeated it? Katherine McBottom-Three? No? Still not working? Katherine McBottom-Three. Did the italics make a difference? Nope? Okay, I’ll move on.

Bucky – C’mon Bucky – here’s your night to shine and you pick the most boring country song in the world? Because there were probably a dozen entertaining songs he could have done that I frankly cannot name off the top of my head because I know precious little about country music, but my wife does and she confirmed that in fact he totally screwed the pooch on this one. My wife had to translate the lyrics for me tonight, because as mush-mouthed as he’s been, Bucky was in rare freakin’ form tonight, slurring so badly that it sounded like one long, continuous sound broken up with the occasional yodel.

BTW, did you know Bucky was married? Because I sure as hell didn’t – it was one of those weird revelations that turns reality on its ear. Maybe that explains the lack of “Marry Me Bucky” signs. And I just thought it was because he looks like a cross between David Spade and Cletus the Slack Jawed Yokel. Take a step back ladies – this train has left the station. Whoo whoo!