Brooke displayed the Final Six neatly organized in a linear arrangement on the stage. They looked proud, yet perplexed, and slightly abscessed, to be there, these Final Six. The NCAA has contacted the creators of the show warning them to not even think about getting close to using the term Final Four, should it come to that. Don’t even try to use Final Five, which is too close, or they’ll retract any fake credits Tlee earned on his going-to-college reality show. Tlee needs those college credits on his resume in order to get tenure. The producers have decided to go with Final Cubed Root of Three Hundred Forty-Three minus Three when only four rockers remain. The NCAA, since it is more concerned with sports and marketing than education, is incapable of doing the math, so Tlee is safe.
Already dressed for her video shoot with Twisted Sister for their re-remake of Leader of the Pack after this taping, Brooke informed us that they received the most votes ever. I voted once for Storm, which was the first vote I cast this season, so I can only presume I put us over the top. You’re welcome, Mark Burnett. Dilana looked delighted to hear the news, although I’m pretty sure they edited in her response to hearing there was free throat scrapings back stage after the show.
Next, we quietly celebrated with the rockers back at the mansion. All we learned here was that nobody was afraid of the big bad wolf that is the bottom three. Instead of quietly wasting our time, they could have showed us the Bugs Bunny episode where he pretends to be Little Red Riding Hood and torments the big bad wolf. We would have gotten the same idea, and we would have been much more entertained.
Dave declared this week’s performance episode the best in Rock Star history. Jason confirmed this by refering his scrapbook, but noted that last year’s episode where Andrew Farriss broke the Twinkie eating world record while Brandon sang Sweet Home Alabama was a close second. Dave asked Storm, who looked kinda sexy wearing her dad’s hat, why she seems so enthusiastic about possibly being in the bottom three. Storm explained that she is a master thespian and is merely…ACTING! When Dave badgered Dilana, she said she feels like part of the Addams family, being a cross between Lurch and Cousin It, and will cry if Uncle Fester gets voted off the show. Magni then took Dave out back and beat him like a race horse’s hindquarters for him mocking Magni’s super model style. Apparently, Magni is a little sensitive about the way his charisma translates to the still shot.
Enough of that, let’s rock, Jason. This week’s Suave Porn hit of the week is entitled, It’s On, which is a song about serving soup to enlisted personnel. Suave Porn chooses you, Lukas. As the Lukas lead Suave Porn geared up, Storm fluffed the audience with her best cheerleader antics. She actually formed a five-tier pyramid all by herself! Go Team SUAVE PORN! Lukas was more aware of the audience tonight and I know why. He is too shy to look at Suave Porn while he sings. They were behind him on stage, so he dared not look back. His options were to sing to the audience or put a bag on his head. I was rooting for the bag, but he opted for the audience. I don’t know if this song is any good. I was too distracted by Lukas’s slathering of the lyrics. It’s not that I need to understand the lyrics to like a song. His lingual expressionism interferes with my neural entertainment receptors sometimes. Does Gibly know how to crank out a monster solo, or is that too eighties for their cutting edge sound?
Breaking News: Some weird shut-in guy from Seattle won the Windows Space Live page sweepstakes. He will attend the final taping of Rock Star:Suave Porn if they can lure him out of the house with free Star Trek toys, put him in a cage and ship him to LA.
Since Gibly has written so many hits in his career, he told those rockers who would live to see Rock Star tomorrow that he would be helping them write hits for Suave Porn as part of the next clinic. Probably the other way around.
Highlights from Toby’s encore: He ran up to sing to the cheap seats, which irritated the camera operators because there is no lighting up there for camera shots and they’ll probably get blamed for being crummy camera operators. Then Toby drowned in a quagmire of hired whores on his way back to the stage. He didn’t seem to mind.
There is a shortage of pickled herring in Iceland because they are all partying, according to Tlee, over the fact that Magni was the only rocker not to beach themselves on Danger Island. Dave joked that Brooke must have instructed everyone with hair to stand up, as Magni is the only bald rocker and was the only one left sitting when Brooke announced the voting trends that were the result of global vote pouring, which is a by-product of global warming where people are too hot to go outside so they stay by their computers and vote on line. Magni took off his shirt and showed the world his sweater-like matted back hair. Dave took back what he said and apologized.
Why don’t you go first, Ryan? He chose to blow our minds with Baba O’Riley by The Who. To train for this performance, Ryan bought Jill’s vocal instructional tape, Screaming Your Way Off A Show. He was so over the top on this song, I mistook him for a truck driving Sylvester Stallone challenging everyone in the audience to arm wrestle in order to impress his estranged son. To help his chances for survival, he tried to get the audience drunk by squirting them with champagne. This plan was foiled when the other rockers absconded the bottle and proceeded to party like muppets being operated by spastic chimps in the Al Roker den. The look on Suave Porn’s faces at this point was one of “I don’t think these people are taking this contest seriously.” His next ploy was to demand that everybody jump. He seemed adamant about it, so I, too, began to jump at home, which caused me to trip on the dog and crash my head into my glass coffee table. I felt so Magni-fied. Although he was redlining the entire song, providing nothing more dynamic than full throttle, he kept pushing the limit of the realm of ridiculous. With the dexterity of an old lady climbing a folding chair in order to swat a moth, Ryan mounted the speaker cabinets behind Sasha. There he stood anticipating the roar of the throng, as they would ravish their rock and roll crusader with unending adulation. That never happened, so he hopped down, nearly spraining a knee. To finish us off, thank Xe, Ryan wooed a “Woooooo!” reminiscent of Wil Ferrel encouraging all to streak. So, I did that, too, and tripped over my other dog.
Luckily for Storm, she got to follow Ryan’s debacle as she popped her bottom three cherry with Helter Skelter by The Beatles. According to Storm, this was the first ever punk song. I can’t argue with her since she would probably beat me up. Knowing that Ryan set the over singing bar at Everest heights, Storm felt she could afford to push the limits a little herself. She over sang, too. If Ryan’s excessiveness was on top of the Empire State Building, Storm was sitting comfortably on the thirtieth floor, in the lobby of that one company that sells industrial insulation. You know the office – the one with two rows of Zagnut bars in their vending machine. Who needs two rows of Zagnut bars? Also like Ryan, she commanded the audience to jump. I wasn’t falling for that this time (what pun?). Once she got everybody preoccupied with jumping, she snuck around, unnoticed, to the Suave Porn Perch to give them a complimentary lap dance, since they had a coupon. She was quickly scared off by Tlee’s immediate and monstrous rigid response to her comeliness. As a shout out of approval to the recent retro movement, Storm Nestea-plunged herself onto the audience, who was polite enough not to splash on her.
Toby didn’t fall for Brooke’s joke. Dilana tried not to fall for it, as she paused when Brooke said her name, but it was no joke. Get your miniature South African ass on the stage and take what’s coming to you. What was coming to us was a strange and disturbing version of Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads. Dilana declared that this song would be her redemption (for all the bad press she created), and she dedicated the song to herself, because she didn’t want to insult any more people. She began with an a cappella intro because the band thought they were still at the commercial break. Once they kicked in, Dilana strapped on a Tigger tail and bounced about the stage. Boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing (this is fine literature here, folks) boing boing boing boing boing. After the first two elimination performances tonight, I thought Dilana’s would be a steak in the maniacal land of tofu. Nope. Just more tofu, and weirder tofu, at that. She sounded like a castrated Rockwell (I hate myself for having this reference in my brain) during the verses. Suave Porn looked confused, as they should have been. Dilana spent much of the time, ala Lukas, singing to the house band. It was so bad, I was almost hoping Sylvester Stallone would come back on stage for some more arm wrestling. I think she was up to something. Here’s my conspiracy theory. She’s already got the Suave Porn gig, but she doesn’t like the way she was dragged through the fishes when they portrayed her as a backstabbing, vindictive scrag. So, she discharged this deranged pageant of “what the f*ck” to throw a fork into their garbage disposal. This was the redemption of which she spoke. After her performance, Dilana collapsed to the stage. Storm picked her up and carried her to the front of the stage, just like Gerrit Graham’s character, Jeff, carried his dog in the movie Used Cars when the dog faked dead to trick the prospective car buyer into believing he had killed the dog so he would feel shame and buy the car (I like that this reference is in my brain, but it probably doesn’t fit too well in this paragraph, but I don’t feel like erasing it and coming up with something less obscure and more relevant).
Gibly tells us that Ryan has been on quite an adventure and has come so far and was great tonight (WHAT???), but questions if he is right for Suave Porn. Storm has been solid, but has not shown much growth (she didn’t need much growth, she’s seven feet tall, dude), but he liked the way she had the mic sticking out of her pants. Dilana’s performance was out of left field (from a baseball field on Saturn) and she seem lost (since she was coming from Saturn), but she has built up enough credit with the band, so far. Without further adieu, bring out the Tommyhawk.
Tlee saved us from slowly peeling the bottom three to expose the worst one, who happened to be Ryan, so good riddance to him. Suave Porn was proud of him for coming the farthest out of all the rockers, but I don’t think he has. He changed things up from week to week, for sure. It wasn’t a matter of him opening new doors within himself and showing his diverse talent. He was merely throwing sausages at the window to see what slipped to the floor for the rats to eat. It was as if he was at the haberdashery trying on hats for Suave Porn asking, “How’s this one look? How about this one? Do you think this one has too many feathers? How about this bonnet – too frilly? What if I wore it backward and tilted to the side?” Ultimately, he ended up where Jill was, screaming to feign intensity. And she was Tleehawked about three years ago. Ryan vowed to see Suave Porn on the record charts as a solo artist. That’s plain silly – Suave Porn won’t be on the charts, Ryan.
Good news. They plan to bring back one of the loser rockers, as voted upon by we the people, in order to form a more perfect Suave Porn, establish rockers, insure domestic mansioninity, provide for the vocal performance, promote the general applause, and secure the blessings of Dave to ourselves and our rockability, do ordain and establish this Suave Porn for the United States of the World, to perform an encore on the last show. This is a set up for my other conspiracy theory (are you listening, Mr. Navarro), where, in a surprise twist, Suave Porn will choose none of the remaining rockers, and will declare Matt the winner, who coincidentally would have won the return to the show vote, and they will deem themselves The New Duran Duran. But John Entwistle will return from the grave to tell them that their plan will go over like a bag of assholes, which will inspire them to change the name of the band to A Bag of Assholes. They will take over the world of rock.