Well done, America!
After ten trying weeks, we've finally given the boot to this nation's creepiest, growliest, Robert Downey, Jr. doppelgangeriest ghoulish widower -- that talentless hack known as Danny Gokey. From the very moment he charged our TV screens, awash in saccharine producer-driven sympathy packaging and hoisting photos of his late wife, there was something screamingly wrong about this worship leader from Wisconsin.
Maybe it was his tuneless axe jobs at popular American songs (he clearly did not get the memo that you're not supposed to understand the words in Earth, Wind and Fire's "September"). Maybe it was his self-indulgent "swagga" -- to borrow a phrase from Kara DioGuardi, this nation's worst invention since the Snuggie. Maybe it was the way he said "thank you" to the AI crowd after every performance, like this was the Atlanta leg of his 37-city tour, not Disco Week on a reality TV show. Maybe it was that dying cat note he tacked on the end of "Dream On." Whatever it was, he just didn't jibe with me.
His shtick robbed us of the bluesy grit of Alexis Grace, the sultry twang of Jesse Langseth, the clear, sure voice of Ricky Braddy, the drop-dead gorgeous that was Megan Joy Corkrey. He overstayed his welcome, and I'm glad he's gone.
Next week will be a finale for the ages. Kris and Adam both stand an equal shot of winning this thing, and both may be just about equally deserving. Who are you gunning for? I haven't picked my favorite yet, but I know I'll be refreshing DialIdol like a fiend next Tuesday. I'm an Idol worshipper. It's a curse.
