I've pretty much guessed everything wrong this season. Big David won, and if I do say so myself, Little David looked relieved.
Though "winning" seems an almost superfluous designation. Virtually everybody gets a recording contract, and some may become bona fide stars. Others may simply join the Soul Patrol -- I hear there are openings.
I did know that the two-hour finale would be a hot tranny mess, and that was before I saw Noted Pervy Pothead George Michael was on board. Frankly, Michael alarmed me: He looked like the half-starved love-child of Bono and some Vegas lounge lizard. Did you dig how he was holding his fingers in the cheesy nightclub-crooner pose?
The other guests were another boomer dream-lineup: Bryan Adams, ZZ Top, Donna Summer, Graham Nash (Holy Woodtock, Batman!). The teen band I had to look up; so, that's a Jonas brother.
Oh, and "Midnight Train to Georgia" doesn't serve that smirking send-up, and especially by -- oh, the coincidence -- the three stars of an upcoming summer film. I guess it gets point for subtler movie promotion than the deeply unfunny stuff around The Love Guru. I am now officially dreading that film.
The show's highlight -- I fast-forwarded through all the dancing and Up-With-People numbers, so who knows what I missed? -- was Simon apologizing to simply "David," though, of course, he meant David Cook. Had it been a Clinton-New Hampshire-style bit of blowback? After Simon's Tuesday night smackdown of Cook, especially his "crime" of not reprising a tune," the blogosphere was hoppin' with folks energized to vote for Cook out of (mild) outrage.
The final voting results were "certified" by some foreign dude, but I guess we can trust them. Hail David Cook: Go forth, and while you're out there, get a new 'do.
Note: Due to finale week being more interesting than I thought, I'll post the clip-show round-up and mini-rant tomorrow. All other shows are backing up on the DVR, but the leaner summer days are on us soon.