Ok, I’m confused about a few of the things I saw on last night’s finale of American Idol. Not the fact that Taylor won; Sweet Sweet Lovin’ simply slobberknockered Kat on Tuesday night. What I’m confused about are some other things from the show.

Before I get to the confusion, though, let me say that you’ve got to feel for poor Katharine McPhee.

One, she got the worst original “song” to sing during her final at bat on Tuesday, the utterly putrescent “My Destiny”.

Two, she seems to be unable to connect emotionally with anything she sings. Who sings the lyric “Because I’m evil, my middle name is misery” while smiling sweetly? Besides Katharine, I mean.

Finally, the third reason to feel for Ms. McPhee: she had to sing a duet with that sweaty blob of a bowling alley manager, Meatloaf. To top that injustice, she was inclined to take his hand and hankie - a nasty damp red hankie - at the end of the song. Mr. Loaf, I implore you, is this anyway to treat the gorgeous and boobtastic Ms. McPhee?

Now, for the confusing bits:

Was that a transvestite impersonating Toni Braxton? “She” mumbled her way unintelligibly through a duet with Taylor – and in a lower register than the grey-haired champion. Time for your estrogen pills, Mr. Braxton.

Why was David Hasselhoff crying? Was it over his shipwrecked career? Did it have something to do with a talking car? Or record sales in Germany? Does he know there is no crying on Baywatch?

Back to Meatloaf for a moment. What a disturbing performance. I thought he sounded like Tiny Tim. Mr. Stiglicz wrote, “What is up with his weird vibrato?????” Bernard Coles thought someone was tickling him. Whichever, it was a disaster.

And who else thought the segment with the ditzy audition-reject and Clay Aiken was hysterical? And kind of cool?

Lastly, a note for Chris:

Dear Chris, your cold, soulless performance with that dreck-band Live revealed tonight why you were voted off the island before the finals. Please, inject a little fun into what you’re doing and let some of it shine through to the audience. And stop singing with irrelevant, has-been bands like Live. This includes Fuel. You’ve got pipes, man. Don’t blow this chance.

So that’s it for this season. Have any comments about the final show? Or how it all turned out? Click the Comments link below and speak your mind!

Click here to see what Taylor Sweet Sweet Lovin’ did to Katharine McPhee in last night’s finale on American Idol. I got nothing else to add.

This post brought to you by the letter B, as in British Virgin Islands, Beach, and “Boy, is it hot here!”

Remember those old Nightmare on Elm Street movies? Where Freddy Krueger stalked teenage kids and killed them by sticking their heads into television sets or turning them into pizza toppings? Well, somewhere in the shadowy corners of the AI set, far away from the eyes of decent folk, Taylor Sweet Sweet Lovin’ lurked Freddy Krueger-like in ambush for the Elliott Yamin Velvet Express and, one week after Elliott’s breakthrough set sent Chris The Walking Aneurism home in search of levity and throat lozenges, the Express was derailed and Taylor stole away to the finals with Katharine McPhee.

Although I think it’s a foregone conclusion that Sweet Sweet Lovin’ will win it all next week, I’ll still watch this week’s finale because I’m hooked, addicted like that homeless guy standing in the last parking spot on South Capitol who says he’ll “watch” your car for ten bucks. But what in the name of Kurt Cobain’s gun collection is going on here? How did Taylor make it to the finale? Are we witnessing a sea change in American pop culture? Where a performer more aligned with an adult contemporary audience becomes the darling of the brace-face set? Is real R&B on its way back? Should I get out my old Stax 45s and my Dick Clark jukebox and tell my cousin he can pull that Dianna Ross dress, the one with the sequins and the elbow-length gloves, out of mothballs?

There are some known factors going into this Tuesday’s finale: it’s a given that Katharine will oversing, smile during the sad parts of her songs, and be stunned by the judges milquetoast critiques of her performances; it’s also a given that Taylor will twitch his way to orgasm, be compared to a drunk uncle at a wedding and shout “Soul Patrol” seventy-five times. What the discerning eye should watch for, though, are Katharine’s next wardrobe malfunction – it’s just a matter of time before the double-sided tape gives way – and Taylor spraining his ankle/face/abdomen while simultaneously herniating himself onstage. It should be a good night!

The Debra stomped into the bedroom after American Idol finished and declared, “I wish we had some cookies!”

That, folks, is as dramatic as Tuesday May 16 got. Talk about lazy – today we defined it.

On November 1st 1938, five year old Seabiscuit, a knock-kneed over-achieving five year old stallion from California, walked toward the start line at Pimlico alongside War Admiral, a coal-black stallion of royal lineage and incredible power. 40,000 people packed the stands to watch the race and another 40 million, roughly 1 in every 3 Americans, hung on the radio broadcast. It was the height of the Depression and a desperate America longed for a winner it could identify with, an underdog who had traveled the hard roads and knew the bum luck of the common man. At Pimlico, that underdog was Seabiscuit.

But the style of race favored War Admiral – fast starters usually won head-to-head match-races – and oddsmakers had War Admiral as a 1-4 favorite to win. The four year old stallion was a powerful force out of the gate who destroyed his challengers. Son of the great Man O’ War, War Admiral was a Triple Crown champion and Horse of the Year in 1937. But this was not 1937. On that November day at Pimlico, in one of the most anticipated events in American sporting history, Seabiscuit blew the doors off War Admiral.

Fast-forward to the American Idol stage. You had to imagine that when Chris Daughtry, the odds-on favorite to win it all, found himself standing beside Katharine McPhee he must have thought himself safe. Ms. McPheever sung wretchedly on Elvis night and had previously spent time among the bottom vote-getters. Chris had a rabid fan base, a rich, evocative voice, and was a good looking dude. He’d only spent one night among the bottom three and had certainly done nothing calamitous to get himself booted. Surely this was the night that Katharine was heading home.

And then the hammer fell. “Chris Daughtry is leaving the show.”

Shellshocked, Chris watched his “American Idol journey” on the theater big screen, never once cracking a smile. He sang Suspicious Minds to a stunned audience as the credits rolled and then, as he made his way toward the remaining contestants, Fox went to a commercial and ninja-poof that was it. Chris was gone.

Of course the first thing that crossed my mind was, “Well, there goes my shot at the True North AI pool. Daddy’s not getting a new pair of shoes today.”

But I digress.

So check this out: Kat lives to sing another night. Taylor Sweet Sweet Lovin’ survived to prance, thrash, gyrate and mug his way through another Tuesday evening. And who is that coming up on the inside rail from the middle of the pack, bobbing and weaving and staggering toward the front as we round into the homestretch…it’s…Mister Tumnus! Elliott Yamin, bad grill in place and against all odds, put the smack-down on the consensus favorite tonight and, in doing so, may have positioned himself as the unexpected favorite in a race suddenly without its dominant horse.

So tell me what you think. Were you shocked by Chris’ sudden departure? Do you think it should have been Katharine? Do you think Mister Tumnus has a snowball’s chance in Narnia to win the whole shebang? Will Taylor drool onto an exposed wire and electrocute himself? Will we even notice the difference? Leave a comment and speak your mind!

Now I know y’all have this perception of ol’ El Raymundo as a turbo-charged-dual-overhead-fuel-injected muscle car of a man seething with testosterone and hell’s unbridled fury, but I do have my softer side, and I tend to get all squishy this time of year. Not only has it been a long time since I kicked back on the couch and enjoyed a couple of glasses of cognac with a pipe full of tobacco and a pepperoni pizza, but it’s also been a long time since I posted something about my most skeletal of closet residents: American Idol. So here goes.

Ah, but wait, before I get too far into things, did anyone else see the commercial for Sarah Jessica Parker’s new perfume, Lovely? Is it just me, or did it look like her face was put together out of wet putty?

Ok, image indelibly burned in on the frontal lobe? Excellent! Onward!

Pity poor Katharine McPhee. Not only was she at a disadvantage because it was Elvis night, but she turned in two of her weaker performances on a night in which the guys, all three of them, put it into high gear. It’s going to make for a very interesting voting-off-the-island session tomorrow night. While I think it’s unlikely that all three guys will make the final cut, the possibility does exist due to Katharine’s stumble.

Taylor kicked things off with his standard Goofball Song and Dance. While he turned in an energetic version of Jailhouse Rock, I couldn’t help but pity any woman who has had to gaze longingly up at Taylor while he’s deliverin’ the sweet sweet lovin’ – those facial expressions would be enough to send the strongest of women not only screaming into the night, but clear across into the next county. Lord, help me! Can I have an amen? Testify!

Mr. Hicks turned in a soulful rendition of In the Ghetto for his second performance, but the moment was ruined for me as all I could think of was the South Park version of the same song (warning: sound will play). Quite frankly, that sort of took the pathos out of it for me.

Chris, as usual, turned in a technically sound but emotionally chilled set. He’ll survive the cut, I’m sure, but man, all I could think was “where is Bo Bice when you really need him?” I dig Chris’ voice, but dude, lighten up!

Elliott, who has spent time among the cellar-dwellers the past few weeks, is probably going home. He simply hasn’t built up the fan base Taylor and Chris have and, since Katharine is the only woman left standing after Ms. Bennett was booty-tossed off the stage last week, I doubt he makes it through. Which would be a shame. Elliott easily outshone the others tonight. He took a chance on If I Can Dream, a song which no one but Elvis and his mom knew, and rocked it. Then he got down with the crawlin’ king snakes and got his mojo goin’ with Trouble. Astonishingly, Elliott almost seemed like a junkyard dawg from the South Side of Chicago and not a good Jewish kid from Virginia. Here’s to hoping it was enough, because the kid earned it tonight.

And then there’s dear, sweet, bootytastic Katharine, the last standing AI hottie. Apologies to those who have a bad case of the McPheever, but this could be it. Only a malfunctioning strip of boob-tape would have saved her tonight as she was clearly outmatched on both songs. Whether awkwardly shaking the junk in the trunk while impersonating Elvis’ knock-kneed moves or wading through a Hound Dog/All Shook Up mash-up like an infantryman from the 29th Division in the first wave at Omaha Beach, Katharine struggled – and struggled mightily. It’s a real shame she had to sing a song by Elvis and couldn’t sing a song about Elvis – she would have rocked Alannah Myles’ Black Velvet. Instead, she swam and sank and may wind up on the outside looking in tomorrow night. My gut says Elliott will save her, though.

So who do you think will go home tomorrow? Click the Comments link below and let the El Mundo del Raymundo know where you stand!

How come my favorite American Idol contestant had to be voted off on the first night? C’mon America, why Becky and not this nasty bee-otch? Now I’ve gotta find a new hottie on the show.

I’ll miss ya Becky. You and your Babeasaurus Rex twin sister. Who knows, maybe Playboy has them both on speed dial.

And I’ll stop right there before I get myself into trouble.

Genghis Khan has spoken and he has said, “Come to Central Asia.”

Yes indeed, The Debra and I are investigating trekking trips in and around Kyrgyzstan, one of many lands conquered by Genghis which became grazing lands for his horses. By all accounts, the country is safe and free from whack-jobs bundled in dynamite corsets and the country sports some of the highest and most beautiful mountains in the world, the Tien Shan (the Celestial Mountains).

Some of the peaks in the Tien Shan, which delineate the border between Kyrgyzstan and western China, are over 7000 meters high; a pass through the southern reaches leads across the border into China and the ancient Silk Road city of Kashgar. From there one can take the Karakoram Highway, a four day road trip past K2 into Islamabad, Pakistan. How cool would that be??? Unfortunately, the Karakoram Highway is reputedly infested with gentlemen wielding hand grenades and shoulder-mounted rocket launchers sold to them by the Republicans and it might not be wise to travel that route right now. Anyway, we’re looking into taking a walk through the mountains and cities of the Silk Road this summer. More to come!

I wish The Debra would bake some cookies this weekend.

We got a little snow last week. Didn’t last long, of course, but it sure was pretty while it lasted.