I'd like to buy the world a coke

(Capitalization, or lack thereof, is intentional; in my home state of California, every soda is a coke.)

Well, the Lady has all sorts of catching up to do, does she not? First and foremost, in this week of being ostentatiously loving and giving, I apologize to Miss Martina McBride, whom I mildly dissed in my conga ditty of yesteryear. I have nothing against this very nice woman, and I enjoyed her singing, coaching, and glossy hair very much. Rather, it was the fear and loathing I feel at the words "country theme" that brought on my attack of bile, albeit in a clever rhyme. Yes, I am clever even whilst bilious. 'Tis a gift.

Second–well, that would be Country Night itself, and again I prepared to eat (country-fried) crow, as first Phil was outstanding beyond all reasonable expectations, and then Jordin was outstanding in that way that Jordin is outstanding every week, and yet it always feels so fresh! so new! and I was a born-again convert at the altar of Kenny Rogers and Dottie West—but then they let somebody else sing, it doesn't even matter who, and it was all over, and I went back to flogging my Garth Brooks action figure, and no, I don't mean in the "if you know what I mean" nudge nudge, wink wink way. I am not a country fan, I am simply a fan of good singing and entertaining entertainment, and there was precious little of either to be found that night.

(Brunie said that Melinda had her bawling, but I just missed it.)

So then Sanjaya went home, and I thought his three-hour Kiki embrace was very dear.

Fast-forward to Idol Cares Ever So Much Tuesday, and I know what Brunie means about being cynical in the face of what is clearly a good cause—you somehow can't help it, and yet you feel a bit soiled. I want to help the poor and hungry, really! Just . . . with a little less fanfare and self-congratulation and Teri Hatcher, maybe.

(All this talk of the MOST IMPORTANT NIGHT IN IDOL HISTORY reminded me of a MadTV sketch about the debut of Felicity and its resultant over-hyping, which culminated in these words: "If your children don't watch Felicity . . . KILL THEM.")

I realized that I wanted Ryan and Simon to tell me that they personally were donating every bit of money they're making this week. Instead, they looked smug while telling me how much Ford is donating . . . which just didn't do it for me.

But oh well. Wherever it came from, the money's going to excellent causes, and I tried to do my own part by voting for Jordin 25 times and Phil 15 times and Melinda 5 times, and Blake once (for Li'l Martini, who loves him), and that was a lot of busy-signal endurance, believe me.

I don't have much to say about the performances, except that Blake is kinda over for me. I don't see him growing past where he is now, and his "slower" performances just aren't so fun. Phil, in contrast, is getting better all the time.

My one question about last night's big drama (which brought Mimosa to tears, she hearts Jordin in a big ol' way): Does this mean that Jordin in fact got the lowest number of votes, or did Ryan/TPTB simply set it up this way for maximum drama? (Frankly, if they'd told me early on that Melinda and Jordin were both safe, I might not have watched any further.) They're not morons, they must know that Jordin has already been cast as America's Singing Prom Queen, with Melinda as her equally talented Consort. I wonder if we'll ever know?

And with that, I bid you good day.

Lady Chardonnay OUT.