You know what's so nice about American Idol? It really respects our time. As a thank you to its loyal viewers, the show has gotten so efficient! Like, last night's broadcast was two hours, and we learned seven whole things.

Yes, seven things! Last night was the episode where everyone gets put in Rooms of Shame or Ecstasy and has to nervously wait for the four judges to come in and pretend to be sad. All the desperate singtestants are forced to sit on the floor, because they are not worthy of chairs, and then Kara comes in and does her best approximation of human facial expressions and tells them that their dreams are either over or going to be over very, very soon.

When I came trudging home in the ice from a friend's house, where I was watching Lorst and eating far too many Triscuits, I sat down to watch Idol and my lover, D.V. Arr, told me that there were two whole hours to watch before I could go to bed and let visions of sugarplum Weirs skate through my head. TWO HOURS. During the second week of Hollywood Week. So, I kind of expected a lot to happen, because I am too trusting and give away my heart too quickly. But, of course, Idol spent most of the time dicking around with needless recaps of last week and lots of Ryan talking about pressure cookers and corkers and all other manner of terms for stressful things. And in the end, we learned the identities of only seven of our 24 semifinalists. In two hours. Again, TWO HOURS. Seven people.

Oh, sure, we found out about some losers too. The girl with the damaged nerves in her face? Better luck next time. Simon muttered that it was the wrong decision, and she seemed pretty good in the singing clips they showed, so that's too bad. Maybe next year. Though why these people keep coming back after being shamed, I do not know. The heart wants what it wants, I suppose.

Um... who else didn't get in? Oh, yeah, the crazy girl in the video above. She was on last season and was wearing just normal clothes, a simple button-down and dungarees, at her audition and she seemed nice and humble. She seemed normal enough during this go-around too, staying nerdily in the background mostly, but when she was told that it was the end of the line? Plain Jane went nertz. She kept talking about how they had "no idea" what she could do. None whatsoever! It's not as if she'd just spent a week singing for them and had done similarly a year prior. No, the judges had absolutely no idea. See, she'd lost her voice during group day, so that's what it was. Her group totally f'ed her over by reaching their gnarled talons down her throat and stealing her voice, or something like that. Guys, you have no idea. No one has any idea. She has no idea what she can do. No idea. Not a clue.

I figure now she must be done with the show for good. I mean, can you really get into an awkward, sad yelling fit in front of Ellen DeGeneres and expect to have a good shot at the majors next season? I mean, sure, maybe you can. It's this show, after all. If you beat Charlie Rose at jai alai one time, you cannot expect to ever be a guest on his show ever again. If you throw Bonnie Hunt down a flight of stairs while taping an interview, that's pretty much it. Same goes for hurling a Brother sewing machine at Tim Gunn's head. But on Idol? Oh, you can just about do whatever you want and they'll take you back, mostly because you are crazy and interesting. Hey why not just up and stab Randy Jackson. He'll stand there chuckling, McDonald's parfait dribbling out of the wound, and say "Ha ha dawg, come back next year." So maybe the Nutty Nerd will be back. I suppose we'll just have to watch next year to find out. (None of us are watching next year, right?)

So who went through. Well, Michael Clarke Duncan from The Green Mile did, so good for him and his new beebee. Also good for some girl with curly blonde hair who will be smirked at with condescending horniness by Simon all season and will eventually do a sad segue into country music. She's basically Kelli Pickler, and Simon hopes to pickle her. We should all be very proud of your cousin Ricky, you know Aunt Cheryl's kid from upstate, who landed in the top 24 even though we'd never seen him before. Mostly he seemed like an awkward cross between Danny Gokey, Kris Allen, and a beetle. Same vaguely beardy puffy face features as Gokey, same easy-breezy troubadour stylings of Kris, same buggy skitteriness of the things that go scattering when you overturn a big rock. He seemed arrogant about his chances, but then in the sit-down they all said that he didn't seem confident, so who knows what the hell was up. The few singing clips we saw didn't really seem all that impressive, but I trust the judging and producing staff that gave the world Kevin Covais to only advance the best.

Speaking of Covais, yet another squirrely 'n nerdy young man has been offered up to America. I forget his name, but he's the one that sang "The Climb" at his initial audition. Do you know what "The Climb" is? It is a song by Milly Sirrus, and it was featured in her movie about Hannah Montana called The Hannah Montana Movie. In that movie, which is about Hannah Montana, Milly goes to a farm with her mom Billy Ray, played by the redoubtable Billie Jean King, and learns important lessons about being nice to old ladies and how to find hay-blonde farmboys attractive (this is a very hard thing to do!). Anyway, Hanna Montana sings this song at the end, to prove that she's learned so many lessons and come so far, and everyone cheers. (GUYS, I SAW THIS MOVIE.) So then a teenage boy went on a nationally-watched reality show and sang that song. Ha. Heh heh heh. Anyway, the kid is like twelve years old and I'm sure some swirly-girlies will eat that shit up ("He's so sensitive and stares at Ryan Seacrest almost as much as we do!!"). Unless those other teendreams, Shaggy and More Shaggy, get through. Then old Morty Cyrus over here is screwed.

Angela Martin, who I like and feel bad for, got through the Torment of Rooms, but we do not know her fate beyond that. Hopefully she will make it. That Raspy girl from last week who was all annoying and bossy was in the room that they doused with gasoline and lit ablaze, Kara wedging a chair under the door handle to keep everyone in. Too bad for her. I think she is 29, so that's the end of the line for her. Good thing all that bitching paid off!

That blonde girl who is basically Brooke White made it through, so good for her. Still no word on the fate of Yellow Teef, but dear god we saw her again, and her teef aren't even yellow. They are a russet potato brown. I feel like she's been drinking chicory or root juice or something. Is she Inman from Cold Mountain? I think she is Inman from Cold Mountain. Ellen is her Ada. Which makes Randy the guy Ethan Suplee played in the movie and Simon is Kathy Baker. That works. But whatever, she's a really good sanger and if she makes it through, hopefully someone will take her aside and tell her about teef bleaching. It's a fixable problem!

You know who's a funny story? That Shirtless Guy. You know, the one who Kara made strip at the audition? We all thought he was some dumb oaf-faced gimmick. But he's not! He's actually got singerly chops and now he's in the voting pool and I'm sure the ladies will vote for him alllll nite longgggg. And by "ladies" I mean Ryan Seacrest in a wig, guzzling Cavit pino grigio straight from the bottle, weeping and clutching his phone and saying "Iloveyou, Iloveyou, I loveyou..." in shuddering, wet spurts over and over again. "What'd you do last night," a staffer will ask him the next morning. "Not much, nothing, turned in early," he'll reply with practiced nonchalance. The staffer will frown in a pitying, concerned way. They'll lower their voice and say "Ryan, honey, you're still wearing your voting wig."

Did any of your favorites make it through? Does anyone have any favorites? Egghead Latino, who will get verrrryyyyy far, has not been asked to come to America's loneliest prom yet, but he will be tonight. You can take that to the bank. Oh, and, while you're at it, do you use TD Bank? Great, take this sack of loose change to that that coin machine and bring me back the cash. And by "sack of loose change" I mean Kara.

There's not much else to say. For two hours of Entertainment, that's all there was to talk about. Some tears, some cheers, some warm lonely beers, Ryan sitting on the roof, staring out at the goofy LA smog. He takes a pull and swallows it heavily, letting out a weary sigh-burp. "Oh Kevin," he says quietly. "Kevin Covais." A thick breeze sweeps up and turns his tie into a windsock, makes his unblinking eyes water. And he feels terribly sad, and terribly small. But then he hears a noise behind him, he turns, and it is Shirtless Guy, brandishing his guitar, humming something warm and familiar. Traffic roars, buildings breathe and bend. Ryan stares at Shirtless Guy and reaches his hand into his jacket pocket. He feels the synthetic honey-blonde curls of the voting wig. "Soon my friend," his whispers. "Soon."

But not soon enough.