Not enough heaven

Barry Gibb Barry Gibb ohmygosh Barry Gibb! was my first reaction on hearing of this week's guest judge.

Alas, as Barrys go, Mr. Gibb is no Mr. Manilow. His "coaching" was beyond lame: "I was shocked that she chose that song! It was written for a man! And she's a lady!" Time to move on, falsetto boy.

I did like the music. I own Best of the Bee Gees. "How Deep Is Your Love?" is my all-time hottest slow-dance song, as its gentle driving beat requires just a little bit of . . . friction. Love it. And Barry was of course my favorite Bee Gee. But age has not been so kind to our friend, and he just didn't wow me at all.

And neither did the Idolettes, who were basically . . . fine. I thought Blake was the worst and Jordin was the best, but nobody did anything to write home about.

And yet, the fans, they clamor for a blog entry. Blessings on Brunie, who found much more to say than I'm able to!

I realized, before Chris was booted last week, that if Jordin gets cut, I'm basically done with this show for the year. It's Fantasia vs. Diana vs. Jasmine all over again, and I could not give a rat's patootie. (Though the current Top Three is more talented than that Top Three, I hasten to add. Season 3—Idol's nadir.)

So, bye-bye LaKisha. We'll miss your big ol' voice and great rack. Blake goes next, and then we have a real battle—Polished Leading Lady vs. Bubbly Ingenue—and it's anyone's guess who'll be left standing.

Unless I'm totally wrong, and Blake wins it all. Gah.

Lady Chardonnay, a bit weary (young girls, they do get weary) and OUT.