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!