[The newly minted top 12 contestants on this weird show that no one watches American Idol out celebrating last night; image via Bauer-Griffin]

It's now official: We are in the midst of another Golden Era of Idol. You can toss it all at us—the gay stripper-boogers, the teen Mormon prodigies, the butch nurse-rockers (with male fiancés—DVR replay does not lie!), the off-duty drag queens with moms that look like Divine—but without a completely incoherent, equilibrium-challenged Paula Abdul, it really amounts to a whole lot of nothing.

Realizing the truth about his gay-stripping past had finally hit the mainstream media, American Idol finalist David Hernandez pulled one of the savviest moves in the competitive karaoke play book last night: He deflected the growing outrage with a booger-colored smokescreen. So repulsive was the tale of the flaky, walnut-sized (or was it pea-sized? It'll be the size of a wide-mouthed bass the next time he tells it!) snot-pellet plainly visible in the Celine Dion-interpreter's headshots, any connection in the minds of the American public between Hernandez and the notion of physical desirability was instantly nullified, offering him a clean slate with which to move into further rounds of competition.

The producers of American Idol offer their official reaction to GayStripperGate, in which it was revealed that contestant David Hernandez used to make a living at Phoenix-area men's burlesque Dick's Cabaret (Where Even the Dicks Give You Jazz Hands!™). From a TVGuide.com interview with Idol producer Ken Warwick:

We've expressed some frustration that American Idol hasn't yet given us more to work with by way of controversies, but we're happy to say that today brings some solid progress in that department. For starters, we have official confirmation via AP report that dark horse contestant David Hernandez once made a living giving dark horsey rides:

We're still holding out for the American Idol scandal motherload, but so far, we've had to settle for underwhelming pseudo-dirt regarding the wig-wearing, gay-stripping skeletons hiding inside some of the male contestants' closets. Even that Idol scandal mainstay—the racy photo—is a little bit of a letdown this season. Where last year brought us Antonella Barba peeing, this year, we get this rather humdrum shot of Ramiele Malubay grabbing a handful of sushi-slinging co-worker boob. Wake us up when it's revealed that puppy-eyed front runner David Archuleta is actually a 52-year-old woman with a song in her heart and a growth-deficiency in her DNA.

On last night's American Idol results show, two of this year's nine virtually identical blondes—cloned at Fremantle Laboratories off a Season One contestant who's been kept in a veal stall and fed on a diet of protein-boosted Jamba Juice and easy-listening favorites—were at risk of elimination. Only one was cut however, and that was (checking the website again just to be certain) Alaina Whitaker.

Regular Defamer readers might recall an unusual tip left to us by an alleged maid who had stumbled upon a vial of miracle ball-stench-neutralizing ointment while tidying up around Simon Cowell's home. (The item got quite a bit of traction, particularly from the Nodoro-sponsored Howard Stern Show.) Now, another mildly suspicious e-mail arrived bearing the accompanying Nodoro ad. We can't verify its authenticity, but we can say that the Idol judge has been grumpier than usual this season; perhaps it might have something to do with having developed a tolerance to the genital deodorant's active ingredients.

It simply has to be said: holy shit Lost last night was completely insane. American Idol (dying a quick death) was not.

We should probably preface this by saying that we have nothing against Joplinian (Janis, not Scott) American Idol contestant Amanda Overmeyer. For starters, she's like this bull-dykey, hog-riding, hard-rocking nurse. That's kind of awesome. When she was told she made it to the final 24, she did not dissolve into a weepy puddle of gratitude. Her "thing America doesn't know about me" is that she enjoys the activity of reading (i.e., not communicating with the other mongoloid contestants). And she chose a freaking Kansas song for last night's top ten girls' competition. Watching this performance, however, we couldn't help thinking that Overmeyer was one of those Angel of Death nurses, the song was the patient, and her interpretation was the fatal amount of morphine slipped surreptitiously into an I.V. when no one is looking. R.I.P., "Carry On Wayward Son."

The revisiting of gladiatorial TV trends championed by '80s-plundering perfect exec storm Ben Silverman has proven to be a non-risk worth taking for NBC. Now, with news that a British edition will be following suit, American Idol sourpuss Simon Cowell has announced plans to produce his own version of the arena bloodsport. While details are still under wraps, industry insiders predict Simon Cowell's Gladiators will veer from the original in several key regards:
· Cowell and his co-judges can emerge from behind their desk at any moment and bludgeon a contestant to death with a Coca Cola-branded baseball bat.

Week Two of American Idol competition trotted out the boy competitors once more before the Randy/Paula/Simon firing squad, with the ascendancy of teen idol prodigy David Archuleta a seemingly foregone conclusion: Producers left his interpretation of "Imagine" to the end of the broadcast, knowing no one in their right minds would tune out before hearing him sing. He nailed it, and probably the entire season while he was at it, sending a blubbery Paula Abdul on a fruitless quest for the words to express how this 17-year-old wunderkind had restored her faith in humanity. (It came off as something about wanting to rip his head off and hang the bloody trophy from her rear view mirror, though we think her heart was in the right place.) To keep things interesting, however, we thought we'd focus instead on the minor scandals erupting around some of the other contestants. Last year around this time, Antonella Barba toilet photos rocked a nation. This year, so far, the scandals are relegated to the men:

If you aren't yet familiar with magical Mormon munchkin David Archuleta, chances are you will be soon. Already dubbed the Chosen One by the LAT, the 17-year-old singing wunderkind seems as though he were literally fashioned out of plasticine by disconcertingly bedentured Idol producer Nigel Lythgoe, ready out-of-the-box for mass tween consumption. And while his aw-shucks humility has served him well thus far in the competition (his reaction to the judge's gushing and Ryan Seacrest's mild flirtation after his first performance was something akin to tickling a five-year-old mercilessly), Archuleta, in keeping with the theme of this year's vet-heavy Idol, is no stranger to high-stakes performing.

After witnessing the multi-hued splendor of Tuesday's boys' night, last night's all-girl competition on American Idol was something of a letdown, each contestant virtually indistinguishable from the pageant-ready hopeful who came before her. Even Carly Smithson, the focus of some controversy for having already released a major-label album only to see it flop spectacularly, failed to impress an even-ornerier-than-usual Simon Cowell, who diverged from his two articulation-challenged co-judges to (rightfully) observe, "there's so much hype about you...so much expectation...there's a buzz about you...everything about it for me was a letdown."

At long last, the American Idol chaff has been removed (farewell, STG. Farewell, fan-waving hippie. Farewell, toe-tapping girl—or, rather, hello to Defamer's newest celebrity commenter), and we can focus on the unpolished kernels of wheat vying for karaoke's ultimate crown. Only watching the top 12 boys compete last night, we were instantly struck by something: These are some of the gayest wheat-kernels we've ever laid our eyes on!

As many do for the Super Bowl, I find the ads on American Idol more interesting than the show. It's among the priciest prime-time real estate around. Last year, ads cost $600,000 per 30-second spot. So it raised my eyebrows to see Apple purchasing multiple spots for the MacBook Air in tonight's broadcast. I counted two in just the last half-hour. Did Apple shell out more than $1 million for a couple of ads?

While American Idol is still a ratings powerhouse and one of the strongest franchises on television, there is no denying that the brand has taken more than its fair share of lumps since Jordin Sparks was crowned the winner of the show's sixth season. In addition to stillborn debuts from last season's two finalists (Blake Lewis and the aforementioned Miss Sparks), past winners like Taylor Hicks and Ruben Studdard were both recently unceremoniously dropped from their recording deals. So when confronted with waning ratings during this season's tiresome pre-series run of "Hey, Look At That Jackass" moments, it seems that Idol producers turned to a tride and true gimmick in order to get people talking about their show once again. They created a controversy.

· In an uncomfortable marriage pitting one of the coolest brands on the planet with, um, a lesser-cool brand, Apple has become a signature sponsor of American Idol. What does this mean for you, the Apple/Idol fan? iTunes carries show downloads, the iPod becomes the show's "official digital music player," and the company's next top-secret product launch, the iPaula, will perform all the functions of the iPhone, but with improved wasted and weepy functionality. [Variety]
· Toshiba concedes defeat in the high-def war, giving Blu-ray the official win, and relegating HD-DVD to the obsolete technology junkpile. (Attention unnamed dance-punk bands: Blu-Ray Or HD-DVD is up for grabs!) [Variety]

Just when you thought that it was finally safe not to watch American Idol anymore, another (curiously well-timed) Idol scandal is beginning to break, one that will surely pique everyone's interest in the show once again. Seems that one of Idol's final 24 contestents, Carly Smithson, is a professional singer who recorded an album that was released by a major label back in 2001. With that being the case, you must be curious as to why you've never heard of her. Well, that's because her debut album was recorded under her maiden name (Carly Hennessy) and was a colossal flop! Still, she was a professional, people, which means we have an Official Scandal on our hands. However, if Fox's latest attempt to goose ratings fails to catch on, we're fairly confident that it's only a matter of days before the network begins leaking photos of a wet t-shirt clad Simon Cowell frolicking about in a water fountain to an adoring public. That'll get 'em. [Reuters]

Now that we've entered the Hollywood phase of American Idol's tireless search for the Next Big Thing Who Will Be Dropped By A Record Label Within A Year, the tin-eared Small Town Gays and tone-deaf, razor-taloned hippies have all been culled from the competition, leaving us with precious few opportunities to enjoy the kind of ear-diddling disasters that are at the heart Idol's early-season bloodsport.