Last night's singing blitzkrieg brought the final six to Nashville by way of the Canadian wilds, as a singer who hasn't done anything interesting in years (or ever?) was the featured catalog artist/mentor.

Yes, it was Shania Twain night on American Idol yesterday and no one was sure why. Randy scratched his head and said a quiet, questioning "Dawg...?" Ellen was shaken awake by her DJ and she said "Hunh? Wuh? Oh... it was good," and then put her head back down on the desk and dreamed a dream of Mr. Wrong 2: Wrong and Wronger. Kara looked up from writing a sexually lurid mash note to Casey and said in a cokey blare "All right! Bring it on! I love Shanice!" And Simon just scratched another line on the wall, counting down the days until his precious, precious freedom. No one really cared, because it was an entirely bizarre choice.

Twain hasn't really done much in the past four or five years, has she? According to her biography, Http://En.Wikipedia.Org/Wiki/Shania_Twain by John Wiki, she plans to have a talk show on Oprah's new TV network called Why Not? With Shania Twain, and that's about it. I'm really hoping that Why Not? will feature Twain talking to a different group of people each week, everyday Americans and Canadians and Swiss, and suggesting that they do things. "Why not... eat these nachos I found in the green room?" "Why not... take an extension course at Phoenix University?" "Why not... sing 'Man! I Feel Like a Woman!', Aaron Kelly?" Oh how I wish that last one had actually happened. Oh how I wish it.

But anyway, the point is that Shania Twain is a thickly accented Canadian recluse who lives in a Swiss château and a 42,000 acre "sheep station" in New Zealand. Somehow this makes her an ideal candidate to be the featured artist on American Idol in 2010. Plus there are still boys, a majority of boys!, on the show, so what were they gonna do, sing "That Don't Impress Me Much"? Sadly, no. Sadly they sang other things. Other, terrible things.

The Good
 Um... I...

Pffft. I guess Cousin Phil Dweezy did well. I don't know. I was thinking (and Tweeeeeeting!) about it last night, and it just is sort of a shame how Idol can turn a nice fellow like your Cousin Phil Dweezy — who I call your cousin because he was basically everyone's schlumpy-cute, sorta aimless cousin from Allentown or somewhere similar — into the smirking fuhgeddaboudit he was last night. Kara was all shiver-me-shits about him smiling! she likes it when he smiles!, but I don't know. It didn't seem so much like genial smiling as much as it did "Oh yeahhh, I'm rocking this bitch out, I'm Phil f'ing Dweezy." He picked that "Still the one I blah blah..." song from a million years ago that was just so obvious. When they announced the theme and had all her song titles laid out on a table I'm sure there was a mad scramble for that song and — despite his Camel Light windedness, his ratty Vans, his baggy carpenter jeans — Phil managed to get there first. So he got to perform what Randy hilariously called "one of the greatest songs ever written." Really Randy? "Still the One" is a better song than, oh I don't know, "All Star" by seminal rock group Smashmouth? Is it better than Gabrielle's "Dreams Can Come True"? I don't think so. A bit of an overstatement there, Rando. I think someone has a little crush on Shania.

But anyway, Phil. Other than my fears that we are losing him to the dark lights of fame, he did sound pretty decent and he sounded what the French call "radio ready." Which is more than you can say for, oh, pretty much everyone else.

The Bad
 When Simon said "wet," did you know what he meant? Oh I'm not asking you, Dolores Creepmeister with your big wall of Simon posters and your "Cowell towel." I don't want to know if you knew what he meant. I mean everyone else, us normals here, foaming at the mouths while we talk about American Idol in the middle of a damn workday. When Simon described Michael Lynche's performance as "wet," he meant that it was pretty soggy and thickly applied, it was heavy and squishy. Anyone with any sort of creative mind could put that together. But Randy didn't care. Randy just wanted to stir up some hooting business so he was just like "Wet? Wet? What do you mean wet?" and Simon just sort of acted cagey and everyone stood around awkwardly, Ellen's soft snores drifting into the nearest mic. Finally Simon relented and said that it was "girly." Which isn't what you meant Simon!! I, we (not you, Dolores), know what you meant! Why'd you have to go and gender norm that shit, man. We were picking up what you were laying down and then you started laying down something else and we were like, "No, we don't want to pick that up." Sigh.

But yeah, Big Mike stinks so bad it hurts. He's a good singer, yes. But he's just such an obnoxious performer and so far from "contemporary" he makes Brahms look like Beck. Big Mike has a great cruise ship career ahead of him, until the generation that appreciates his music dies out, and then he will just be singing on an empty ghost ship. (Have you guys ever seen that movie? Isn't the beginning fucked the fuck up?) So enjoy it while you can, Big Mike. Smugly, smirkingly enjoy it while you can.

Siobhan Magnus looked and sounded pretty good last night for someone who had just been tossed out of a semi at high speeds and rolled in a dusty ditch for a while. But if you don't take her pre-show activities into account, she's just such an increasingly terrible presence. I wish I could figure out a way to type the way that she sort of Hunnnh-hunhhhh sings with that Vick's Vapo-Rub voice of hers, but I can't. So I'll just say that it's like there's a waterfall in the back of her throat that very little sound can pass through, so whatever we hear is just whatever noise exists in her mouth. It's reedy and hollow and just really unpleasant and sad to listen to. Sad like singing alone in the music room hoping that Mr. Stimson will notice you and take you in his old Volvo to live in his house sad. Sad like eating a baloney sandwich on the bleachers by yourself because your one friend, Delia, is now dating Sam Dunderman so she sits with him and Matt Dewberry at lunch now, so you don't have anyone to sit with, so you sing Hunnhh-hunnnhhh to yourself on the bleachers and dream about Hollywood sad. That kind of sad. I don't like watching Siobhan because she is in some ways the theater/music kid in all of us. She is a document of the past that suddenly thinks it's cool and edgy and punk, but it is really not. It is really still eating Cape Cod potato chips and seeing a movie with its mom. It is waiting in the car in the Shaw's parking lot rather than going in. It is wishing it was warmer or colder, it can't quite tell which. Siobhan. Shudder.

Crystal Floomerflox didn't ace it last night, no siree she did not. Not that there was anything wrong with her singing. There's rarely, if ever, anything wrong with her singing. It's just that she picked a really boring, slight song that didn't register with anyone. Sure it was nice to see her bring all of Jake-Zeke's Kaibab Quintet up on stage with her, but other than that, I wasn't digging it. You know what I was digging? Crystal's boyfriend. How in the eff did she land that dude? He looked like the cool, nice camp counselor that everyone loves! (But has a secret darkness that the campers don't know about — drinks a little too much, has a volatile relationship with fellow counselor Amber, maybe slept with drama instructor Trisha on Friday night after Zach Cohen's party, doesn't really want to go to Dartmouth in the fall, doesn't really want to do anything.) Good for you, Blunderbox! Didn't know you had it in ya. Hope you're safe tonight, so we can see more of Adam. (His name is totally Adam, right? That or Jake. Adam or Jake. Beaver Country Day Camp counselor, 1990-1992?)

American Idol: Looks Like We Made It
This image was lost some time after publication.

Where Did You Go?
 It's unbelievable how much I miss Tim Urban. I can't really articulate what joy he brought to this season — our ridiculous, badly singing sunflower; our boy that Siobhan totally has a crush on but would never admit she has a crush on because he's like so Abercrombie or whatever — but just know that from here on out the whole show is going to be pretty lacking. Sigh.

And then there's Aaron Kelly, poor Aaron Kelly. I feel like he and Tim were kindred spirits. Both were vague cannon fodder for the girls & moms (Tim more for the girls, Aaron for the moms). Aaron is a little bit like Lucas in that movie Lucas, only way less charming. And yes we were all hoping he'd sing "Man! I Feel Like a Woman!" last night, but of course he didn't. He sang something else that I don't remember and it was, to quote Randiah, in his wheelhouse, so he did just fine. But he's just such an awkward little pretwink, isn't he? I just want to put him back in the oven and say "No, child, you are not done yet." He's still doing that wide powerstance thing that is just mortifying and he is still wearing puka shell necklaces and gel-spiked hair. And then of course Kara had to mention Aaron and "making love" in the same sentence, even going so far as to speculate about whether or not Aaron Kelly is Making Love, and the whole world's eyeballs fell out and Simon stood up and said "I'm just gonna go now, if that's cool with everyone." And we all knew what he meant.

Anyone Else?
 Nope, I don't think there's anyone else in this competition.

How's It Gonna Be?
 When you don't know me... How's it gonna be, when you're sure I'm not there... [Randy Note: That is a better song than "Still the One," just FYI] Who is going to go home? Who will be in the Bottom Three? My guess:

Crystal (!!), Aaron, Casey.

Casey will go, I think. BUT WHO KNOWS.

OK, your turn. Talk to me.