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Last night the old Idol wagon train rolled into Los Angeles. And because that's where it lives, it felt more comfortable letting it all hang out, warts and all. I suppose that's good for them, but it's bad for us.

There's not much to remark on really. After two weeks of actually showing us good auditions, I guess they've earned the right to do a clunkers episode. But those episodes are so boring! I mean, they're boring at best. At worst they're depressing reminders of what's going on in certain lonely corners of America. We let a lot of sad, weird shit happen in this country. Nothing murderous, I mean, or depraved, though of course that does happen. But society allows these wells and dams of loneliness to fill up. Pools of delusion and tragic fantasy build up and swirl like eddies and usually you don't notice them, probably wouldn't recognize these people on the street in any way other than as just another traveler shuffling through the world. But then something like American Idol shows up with its cruel recording light and shines it on these burrows and mole holes and rain barrels full of knotted, anxious want and ambition that's begun to brown like an apple and it's so curious and sad and unsettling to look at. There are so many different souls in America! And they want so many things. Sometimes all they want is nothing more simple than for someone to just pay attention to them, to smile at them, to just once call them special, different, one of a kind, a valued individual. And I don't know how you make fun of that, really. I mean, I know how you do. But I don't really like to. Is that fair?

So anyway, that's my pretentious excuse for keeping the recap short today. The real reason is that I was on a plane for the better part of last night and I am tired. But you know what is amazing? I watched American Idol the same time as you on the East Coast did. Mmhmm. Because you could watch live TV on the aeroplane. I think that is pretty remarkable! Gosh technology moves fast. So there I was, flying miles above all the glowing orange spiderwebs of cities and towns, watching American Idol and the NBC comedy bloc, same time you were. With all the same commercials and everything. How about that for progress. Suck on it, Sputnik. We win forever. (Or maybe the Airbus corporation wins. Sigh.)

Um, hm. Who was good last night? Was anyone good? There was a belly-dancing sexpot whose mystical gyrations pleased the crooked old soot-witch in the corner. Oh, ha ha, there was this big doofus named Goofus, or maybe he was a goofus named Doofus, and he was very goofusy, and très doofusy, and he was apparently in love with Jennifer Lopez? He was all "I've had a crush on you since I was little," which is not a very nice thing to say someone? Why not just say "You are old" and then backhand them across the face. J. Lopes took it in stride and the dope sang his dopey song dopily and he went through. I guess he was kind of cute, if your teddy bear actually came to life one night and didn't murder you, as most teddy bears would if they came to life. He's cute in that way. But he's a Doofus Goofus from the planet Maloofus, for sure. (Malooooooof!)

Speaking of dweebs, geeks, and weirdos, the brightest and shiniest contestants to go through last night were the Gutierrez brothers, two lads in DayGlo outfits who sang a "Lean On Me" duet together, and were just... there was something very strange and off about them, was there not? Like, OK and this is SO GROSS, like maybe... maybe they kissed once at summer camp? YOU KNOW? Did you get that vibe at all? Something mysterious was going on with them and it distracted from their singing, which was indeed good. I look forward to seeing more of them in Hollywood Week, if only so we can further investigate the mystery.

Hollywood Week! I thought it would be starting on Wednesday, but I was wrong. There's one more audition city to go — the foggy wonder that is San Francisco, per Ryan's request probably — and then we're "starting" Hollywood Week. Yeah, which means it'll extend into the week after, which means we're that much further from when the real competish begins. Sigh. It's such a long slog, isn't it? But it's a fun slog! It is. Even for old Mother Courage Seacrest, packing up the wagon again, singing one of her Kurt Weill songs, moving through the war-torn expanses of the land.

Onward, Ryan! There's always a war somewhere! Always some desperate loner waiting to be noticed! Onward!