Do images of people freefalling with failed parachutes make you giggle? Do you like to watch actual train wrecks? Are you completely void of any sense of shame? Then you will probably enjoy watching this show.
If you aren’t one of us, then this summary is being provided to you so that you get some of the entertainment filling with none of the dirty aftertaste.
That will be $1.50, please.
Previously on America’s Got Talent...
We saw what New York had to offer: cool cloggers, a Disney-inspired stripper, a man who could balance appliances on his face and Leonid the Magnificent, the unofficial ambassador for this show.
We’re in Chicago. Everybody knows that there is very little talent in Chicago. But, of course, we’re not really interested in talent on this show. We want to see people do really, really funky things that don’t make a bit of sense unless you’re three drinks past unconscious. So, Chicago is actually a pretty good fit for this show.
Regis comes out with a Mohawk to show that he’s getting into the spirit of things. He admits on stage that this show blows and his already plummeting popularity is going to take a big hit from association with this crap-fest. Then he reminds us that the people in the audience are hopeful contestants who are waiting to have their names called to come up on stage. Stealing a page right out of The Price is Right’s playbook. Except, of course, Philbin is nowhere near as sexy as Bob Barker. Maybe it’s the phallic microphone that Bob Barker had. Did anyone else see that episode of Price years ago when they opened the set too early and old Bob was caught groping one of the showgirls? I know I didn’t dream this. I guess we’ll get back to the summary now, but I have a feeling that the few who watched this show don’t really give a flip what I write, do you? For the rest of you - the digressions in this summary are going to be every bit as entertaining as the show itself. Yes, the show is that bad.
Oh yeah, there are judges on this show. Well, “judges” is a bit presumptive. They are more aptly named “the minor celebrity guest panel”. Previous episodes have proven that they don’t do much judging. We have “Big” Hasselhof, Brandy, and Piers Morgan. They play around with big red X’s when they don’t like an act.
In the preview of the contestants we get glimpses of a pair of little girls in the throes of demonic possession, a hop scotching granny, a woman with feathers coming out of every pore in her body (she seems to be happy about it), and oodles of stage mothers who need to just back off before they do a JonBenet on their kid.
The first act we are forced to deal with is the Chicago Matadors. Here’s the skinny on their performance: ten fat men shake their money-makers for the crowd to the tune of “You Can‘t Touch This”. Gotta admit - they were pretty much in time to the music and they had decent choreography for men of their limited mobility. But y’know, all that wiggling lard just makes you sick (unless it involves the immortal Chris Farley). The three judges say no and the Chicago Matadors go slaughter a small cow and eat it. Ohmigawd! I just realized that the producers took my advice from last week! This calls for another drink.
Next up is The Passing Zone. How many of you thought this would be some sort of musical farting? Well, it turns out that they are jugglers. Kind of funny, actually. Best line of the night: “We are risking our lives for your entertainment.” Hey, that’s all we ask. We don’t want something that’s going to take our collective breaths away. We don’t want to see something that we’ve never seen before. We don’t care if you’re cute. We just want you to do something so amazingly stupid that you could actually die while we watch. Is that so wrong? Well, these guys don’t die. They simply juggle flaming torches while doing a little human totem pole on a balancing ball. Piers says that he wants to see them come back in little school girl outfits, but Hasselhof does not want to see them come back at all. He’s an idiot. Someone please ask David Hasselhof to come on this site and defend his stupidity. Brandy, luckily, wants these guys to come back. Maybe next week one of them will die. I can’t wait!
The Millers are up next. The Millers? Boooooring. What happened to all of the snazzy stage names that we saw in LA? Should have called themselves “The Wild Shaggers”. That has appeal to it, don’t you think? The younger brother blows a mean harmonica but their vocals are atrocious. Somehow, the judges unanimously vote to send them on the next round. This is inexcusable. Piers even said that the older brother can’t sing. But the Brit votes them through anyway. Pathetic.
Lilia Stepanova is a contortionist. And an archer. With one leg bent from behind her back until her foot comes under her chin, she hit’s a bullseye with an arrow. Then, my friends, she does something that I consider just amazing - she does a handstand and, using just her feet, she shoots another bullseye. We paused the tape and went frame by frame to make sure it wasn’t some magician's trick where the arrow or knife snaps out of the target itself to make it look like a hit was made. This little woman actually sent an arrow flying across the stage into the target while she was doing a handstand. The judges send her through.
Then we are cruelly brought back to reality with some typical fare for this program. Shawn Crump’s singing causes the audience to cross their arms. Either they’re reenacting that one scene from Pink Floyd’s The Wall or they are asking the judges to hit their buzzers. The judges take it as a cue to put up their own X’s and Shawn takes the hint to get the hell out of Chicago.
Following this fiasco is Mark “the Knife” Faje. In Mark’s confessional, he says, “I think it’s a little more thrilling to watch someone who does something that could possibly kill them or hurt them.” My faith in television has been completely restored. Thank you, Simon Cowell, for bringing exactly this sort of macabre entertainment directly into my home for free. I will never doubt your genius again. Mark calls himself the World’s Most Dangerous Comic. Not sure why and it doesn‘t matter. He kicks a flaming, knife-imbedded bowling ball onto his face while carrying a live scorpion in his pants. Let me repeat that. He kicks a flaming, knife-imbedded bowling ball onto his face while carrying a live scorpion in his pants. I don’t know what kind of insurance the producers have for this program, but it’s not enough. He tells the judges that if they let him come back next round he will perform the act that has gotten him banned in 3 countries. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would be able to vote for a guy who could kill himself three different ways with the same trick. We should do presidential elections this way. Piers, Brandy and Hasselhof all encourage him to “top that”. Maybe they can put him on the stage at the same time as Leonid the Magnificent - sort of an elimination round.
Regis reminds us that he’s still breathing. Sharon Kissane has a confessional. She talks to birds. They talk back to her. She’s nuts and she goes on stage to prove it. For once, Piers and David rip on a bad contestant. About time. Brandy, meanwhile, is pretty dumb. The bird lady is sent back to the asylum.
Taylor Ware yodels. If you like yodeling, she does fine. If yodeling causes you to thrash about on the ground, come over to my house when she comes back so I can watch you while listening to her. I want to maximize my entertainment minutes.
The next confessional we get is from some chubby fella who calls himself Buster Balloon. Who would have thought we would get more than one balloon act? I swear - if they find another “snappist”, me and Bobby Badfingers are going to sue somebody. Anyway, Buster attempts to symbolically reverse the birthing process by climbing into a large balloon. The balloon bursts. Somewhere, his mother winces. Then Buster brings out another balloon and successfully pushes himself into it. Somewhere, his mother winces. He does a poor imitation of the dancing cow from episode one and the judges tell him to go home and get some psychiatric help to deal with that enormous Freudian fantasy he just exhibited on national television.
Flippy the Magnificent comes onstage with a blow-up doll. Piers X’s him before Flippy even begins. Apparently, Piers thinks he’s seen all there is to see with a blow-up doll. Flippy takes his doll and…. Forget it. You’d have to see it. The two male judges say no and Brandy is silent, again.
We have a group confessional from The Players Club. That sounds kinky, but it’s not. All they do is say that they hope their dance moves sweep the nation. Not gonna happen. Their dance moves involve a lot of waving arms, stomping feet and clapping hands. Second graders can do that much. Hasselhof and Brandy like them enough to give them another chance in the next round.
They start scraping the bottom of the barrel when The Laughing Yogi comes on. He’s not funny at all. He gets sent home.
Finally, we have “Quick Change Artists”. Don’t blame me - that’s how they’re billed. They’re fun to watch for a few minutes but then the effect wears off. You can change outfits quickly. We get it. Where’s the talent in that? If my alarm doesn’t go off on time, I can change pretty damned quick myself. The judges are impressed and vote them through.
In the preview for next week, Piers promises to get tougher and we get snips of performers they passed along without showing us what they actually do.
Get your votes in order. Starting next week, we have a say in who wins a million dollars! Aw, c’mon. The least you can do is pretend to care.