They provided us some insight to the Rockers’ thoughts and feelings about being in the final three during dinner. Their discussion seemed forced, as if a producer told them to talk about it (would that really happen on a reality show?). Somehow, I get the feeling this is not how they would have interacted had the cameras not been there, and they were sitting in JD’s basement shooting the shit. Yes, I mean lying down underneath his car. I think it would have gone more like this:
Marty: I can’t believe you live here.
JD: It’s not so bad.
MiG: Why can’t we go upstairs into the front seat?
JD: My mom is entertaining a friend.
Marty: I thought being in the final three would be a little more glamorous than lying here in the street underneath your car.
MiG: There is a rat gnawing on my foot. But, it’s OK, he must be hungry.
JD: You guys want to try to make sparks with rocks on the gas tank?
MiG: Somebody is peeing down the curb.
JD: My mom must be finished. Let’s go upstairs.
Marty declared that this is a big deal, but he was more concerned with the fact that there were no more chicks in the house. This man has priorities. MiG feels he cheated the system to have survived this long. No, MiG, you played right into the system - the system of garnering foreign ratings. You are nothing but a marble in the Ker-Plunk of international marketing. JD is lying like a lamb in the weeds hoping to pounce on the lion that is INXS (he’s never been very good at metaphors). Marty feigns concern that MiG might actually pose a threat. Maybe in a pose off, but not in this competition.
OK, who left the front door unlocked? How the hell did Dave get in here again? "I’ve been living in Deanna’s room sniffing her sheets since she left." Dave announced to them that they will be challenged in a new clinic - the Infomercial Clinic, in which the goal would be for them to sell as many Honda Civics, Gibson and Baldwin musical instruments, Levi’s clothing and Dell DJ Dipshits as possible. After that, the three wise Rockers would help Andrew write a song. Dave gave them each a DJ Diddley-Doo containing the music Andrew had created. Immediately, Marty and MiG began to prepare. JD decided to coordinate his underwear drawer. He’s been meaning to do this since the third week. MiG reprimanded him, because he wants JD to be the best Marine he can be. JD retorted, "Dude, rock lives in the holes, dude." "Dude." "Duuuude!" You can’t prepare for holes, just like you can’t prepare for the stuff missing from those holes, nor potentially what may yet again reside in those holes. I don’t know what he, nor I, was talking about.
The next morning, the site of three brand new black Honda Civics flabbergasted the three adversaries as if nobody (Dave) had told them they’d be driving their new cars to Gibson-Baldwin warehouse. Before JD got into his car, he scratched his name with his key into the paint so that he would know which one was his. He misspelled it. A musical warehouse seems like an odd place to have a collaboration session. They probably didn’t have enough room left at the mansion now that only three people are living there. It’s not easy for struggling musicians - you have to take any kind of rehearsal/collaboration space you can get. Those Gibson people are so generous.
Marty sat with Andrew first. He didn’t want to be unprepared. Andrew beamed that Marty "virtually" paralleled his own thoughts on how the song should be. It’s a good thing Marty used those holographic lyrics. The session went well as it seemed these two had been writing together for nearly an hour, until Marty questioned why all of Andrew’s new songs are about Twinkies. Andrew screamed, "GET OUT! Get out right now and get me another box!" Marty followed orders, returned with not one, but two boxes of Twinkies, and they finished the song. Andrew was stunned and praised Marty for both his preparation and delivery skills.
MiG joined Andrew next and gave him a taste of his efforts. Andrew was pleasantly surprised. He said, "I didn’t know you were James Taylor. You look taller on TV. Is that a wig?" Although Andrew gave kudos to MiG’s work, he did say that MiG likes to take the sweet road in the melodies and harmonies. To help MiG get over this hurdle, Andrew suggested he try to mix in the word "whore" into the lyrics, as "whore" has a lot of corresponding rhyming words: bore, boar, core, door, Eeyore, floor...Zorro (almost) and Twinkie. (OK, no more Twinkies, I promise). Andrew ended by lauding MiG’s strong sense of song writing identity, which is a MiG way (as irony would have it) of saying he’s good at writing shit for himself, but not us, the INXS.
Finally, an intern woke JD, who was sleeping on a Les Paul. JD entered the room and started flapping his wings. I can’t bust him for his improvisational style of preparation. I conduct my life in a similar manner. Why prepare when you can wing it? JD presented a revolutionary concept to Andrew; let’s write about love and war - it’s never been done. Beyond that, JD showed Andrew his notebook where he detailed which articles would be used in the lyrics, but demanded that "an" would only be used before a vowel and not before any "h" words, because that’s pretentious. He asked Andrew what "pretentious" means. Andrew said it means TWINKIE! (I lied.) Then he told JD that was a good start and asked what else he had. What do you mean "what else", what do you have? Me? This was your task, not mine. Why is Marty allowed to meet you half way and I have to do ALL the work? Even though Andrew was frustrated with JD, he did admit he likes the way JD works outside the square (they’re only two dimensional in Australia, we work outside the three dimensional box here in America). But, he needs some of Marty’s discipline and a breath mint.
The Rockers returned to the mansion for their last supper, which consisted of salad, bread and wine (being the last night in the house, the "help" took most of the food home). They longed for the hot women that used to live with them. Too bad their new found fame will preclude them from having any other women ever showing interest. On to the billiard room for their final challenge. There was a single envelope hanging on the wall. Marty read the letter from the INXS, since JD has difficulty with the big words and MiG only speaks Australian. "Dear Fellas, We cannot decide who to choose. Please remove your shirts and fight to the death. The survivor will be our new singer." JD, quick as a frog, pulled out a sharpened screwdriver from the back of his collar and promptly pierced the jugular veins of the other two. He picked up the letter, which continued, "Just kidding, mates!" Oops. The INXS asked each remaining Rocker to choose one of the songs from the library of songs that had already been performed on the show. Marty proclaimed it the real test, since the song they choose will reveal their true identity to the INXS. JD asked the others for permission to perform You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Nobody gives a rat’s ass, JD. As it turns out, JD has it in his will that this song should be played at his funeral. Is he drawing a connection between the finale and his funeral? The bigger question is, do you need a will to junk your car after you die? What the hell else did he have to bequeath (prior to this show)?
MiG swayed on whether or not to perform Bohemian Rhapsody. His rationalization was that, even though he has made his living as a performer in a Queen musical, doing this song will show the INXS that he has moved on. Marty agreed, "Yeah, that’s what they’ll think, dumb shit." MiG obliviously sunk into mental grandeur at the thought of him winning the hearts of the INXS with this song. Marty snickered to himself. JD ate a Snicker’s.
I believe Marty chose Pretty Vegas as one of his possible songs. I wasn’t sure - it happened quickly and they didn’t dwell on it. They didn’t reveal which song Marty ultimately chose. I hope he does sing that song. He could use it to make a mockery of this entire show. Although, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t do that. But if he did, he would win me over as a fan for sure, and I’d put another poster of him in my room. He could also use it, by whaling on it and making everybody forget about the JD versions of it, to impart his dominance as Alpha Rocker. Willow - pick your own finger. That’s what Billy Barty wants you to do. Then, do the disappearing pig trick.
They ended the last mansion show by showing the boys packing their bags in preparation to depart. Marty dumped his drawers into his bag. JD packed up his guitar. MiG had nothing to pack since he had ripped apart all of his clothes on stage. The three amigos stood at the deep end in the pool, reflecting upon their journey together. I was disappointed, expecting some cross-streams of micturition to froth the pool. Instead, they cut to the guys dumping the patio furniture into the pool. I guess that’s rock ‘n roll enough for the INXS. But, not for me.