Multiple Personality

Now that Chicken Legs is out, perhaps the Parade of Mediocrity can bump things up a notch. And maybe monkeys will fly outta my butt. (Too pessimistic?) All the “stars” are doing a 15-second solo in the midst of things. Is it evil of me to wish Susan Lucci were still around for that?

Cody Montana is up first, and he’s still dancing with Natasha Fatale instead of Blondus Hospitalus. The Summer of ‘42 couple did a respectable, albeit vanilla, Foxtrot. I did like the lifts and the leg-over-the-shoulder thing. But really, the most interesting thing was trying to figure out what was going on with the ass portion of Edyta’s dress. Was that a buttcrack slit, or what?

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Everybody looks kinda punchy tonight, especially that Samantha girl who tries to host the thing when her tongue is cooperating with her. And there’s gonna be team dancing…the Jets are gonna have their way…toni-i-ight.

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I was watching The View this morning…not because I expected to get any worthwhile commentary out of it (that expired the day Rosie O’Donnell walked off), but because Cloris Leachman would be the latest Bad Dance Show castoff featured. Seemed like it’d be good for a few Blücher laughs.

“Hot Topics” began, and Vast-Right-Wing-Conspiracy-Tool Elizabeth Hasslesplat (or whatever) started in on her exhausting, automaton, hate-attack on Obama. I’d yawn if it weren’t so annoying. Can one be bored and annoyed simultaneously? In any event, they began the show by plugging Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” And li’l Elizabeth — in the midst of the adulation over the “Thriller” video — suggested that perhaps that was the origin of the line dance.

Yes, Elizabeth. Forget about Texas Two-Step or the Disco Hustle. Or the Minuet or the Gavotte. Or the Bunny Hop. The “Thriller” video was the very first line dance known to Man. Ever. Now get back to your closed-minded but hopelessly open-mouthed rant against anything that isn’t Republican.

It’s impressive to see someone whose lack of intelligence and insight is not restricted to just one area.

There’s gonna be a group Hip Hop dance tonight…be still, my gag reflex. Other than that, maybe this week will be less weak than usual; the Lord of the Dance is substituting for the Old Brit judge tonight (well…that’s still in the barf-in-my-mouth category), and most of the dead weight has been eliminated from the contestant horde…except for Chicken Legs, but she’s ERICA KANE, so deal with it.

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Now that Kim has been bootied off (get it?) and Rocco is table scraps, there aren’t that many loathesome contestants left. Chicken-Legs Lucci and Disco Maurice are still here — and Refrigerator Warren will confirm a spot on my shit list tonight or redeem himself. And Cody Montana needs to have something scandalous, like a gay porn past, be revealed for him to be interesting enough. The others I can tolerate. I guess that’s a better percentage than digging for a pony (do you know that joke? Trust that it’s scatological.).

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I would’ve been happier without the clips from A Chorus Line: The Horrible Movie, but it’s still pretty damn great. Let’s dance.

So Rocco would have been eliminated last week, if the show hadn’t been a big tool and ended the show with no elimination to keep this fine program on for every week possible. (In case of a contestant injury, aren’t they supposed to bring Comfort back? Just askin’.)

I’m just warning you right now: If the producers have decided they like this non-elimination thing and foresee keeping the show on into the spring, I’m outta here; I believe I have just enough cheese-tolerance to make it through the prescribed number of weeks without self-enacting the wood chipper scene from Fargo. (How much scorn and derision can one man have for a humble little television program, I ask you?)

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Misty the Olympian is out, and the costume designer apparently went with her; it looked pretty Halloweeny as the remainders tramped down that staircase. This motley crew is doing either the Jive or the Viennese Waltz. I think Cloris is doing a Jive, from the looks of that hot pink thing she’s wearing. The Jive. Egad.

Susan Lucci started things off with the Jive. I fear for the Jive. Sure enough, she pretty much destroyed the thing, and not in a good way. The woman needs to eat a powerbar before she comes out; there is just no energy coming out of that perfect little 60-year-old body. I’m hearing she had an injury. Poor Erica. But I yawn.

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Longtime commenter/reader Margot ventured forth into a new career, that of Addiction Promotion Specialist (aka, “Pusher”) for This Blogger. Aware of This Blogger’s lurid infatuation with So You Think You Can Dance? dancer-smiler-dreamboat Thayne — Thayyyynnnnnne — our Margot detailed the situation to said Thayne and snapped the following photo after their tour performance. In Fresno.

Hats off to Margot. I’ll be in rehab, if anybody needs me.

(Thayne: They have phones in rehab. Call.)

Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t going to watch the results show. And I didn’t. (I just looked online and found out who was eliminated.)

Hee hee hee.

You know I’m happy about this. I’m gonna go cook myself a nice puttanesca sauce in tribute.

I believe the right person got bootied off — I mean, bootie off — I mean . . .