opening night for the guys...

After a snoozefest provided by the final 12 women, we're getting treated to what the final 12 guys have to offer.

I'm typing as I'm watching, thinking as I'm listening, so forgive the typos, ignore the poor punctuation and bear in mind that I always reserve the right to rewind, rewatch, reconsider and rearrange everything. But usually I don't. I'm stubborn that way.

The girls are, of course, sitting next to the stage in what I will now call the dollpound. We are given, as were we last night, a retrospective of the guys' journey to the eyeball stage. (Have you looked at that thing?) Well of course we are. They have two hours to fill up since they're determined to crush the poor little USA curling team in the ratings and have enough time to fit twelve performances in between advertisements.

Oy.

But here they are, as always from worst to first:

Bobby Bennett sings Copacabana for his grandma who made him promise. He's a very affable guy, in the Rickey Smith mode, and obviously enjoys performing for the audience, but his vocals don't quite measure up to the performance. Simon says it's a disaster and fears that Barry Manilow has just leapt from a Las Vegas hotel window.

David Radford smiles through Crazy Little Thing Called Love. And he wiggles. And he wiggles some more. His mom is smiling too. And she's screaming. I swear if she throws her panties I am so watching curling. Randy says he was terrible. The kid looks like his poodle just died. Paula anoints the women the kitty pound and gives him the Paula putdown. And Simon is probably the most diplomatic I've ever seen him. David is fortunate he has cash in the bank in the form of airtime.

Sway Penala, who has obviously been taking wardrobe hints from Vonzell's father, sings Earth, Wind and Fire, complete with white pants, shoes and hat. His falsetto is turned on overdrive, so much so that I don't recognize a single lyric beyond "oh yeahhhhh." I've not been impressed with Sway throughout the series and this performance just verifies. Randy and Paula ooooohs and ahhhhs and, just about the time I'm about to hurl, Simon calls it "pimpish" and "third rate." I call it ghastly.

Young Will Makar says he's having a great time and is going to sing I Want You Back because he thinks the normal Michael Jackson and he have the same voice. I'm not so sure. Randy says he's cute and the performance was pleasant. Paula compares him to Bobby Brady and warns Will that high school girls all over the planet are panting. Simon says he's cute but the performance was horribly average. I simply call it forgettable.

Patrick Hall admits he's nervous, that it's tough to be first and is clear that he wants the Clay Aiken comparisons to end even though he's wearing Clay's hair. He performs Come to my Window with the enthusiasm of a kid waiting for a vaccine. He tries hard, but he's not selling it, even though vocally he's very acceptable. The judges give him the eh, eh treatment and, for once, I agree with Paula that he needs to recognize and remember his niche. And that performance wasn't it.

Kevin Covais says age is nothing but a number and brags of his "special" relationship with Paula. (Please God, not again...) He wants people to see a different side of him, so he's going to sing One Last Cry. I think the only things more adorable than his lisp are probably his SAT scores. I simply adore this kid, but the song is more flat than on point, even though he obviously feels every word, which is more than I can say for many of the men.

Bucky Covington is going to do Skynryd's Simple Man, and it's the only time I can understand anything that he's saying. He seems nice enough, and the performance is not painful, but nothing memorable either. Randy says he should sing so hard. Bucky says he wanted to come out hard on the first song. Considering he may not have a second song, perhaps that wasn't a good move.

Gedeon McKinney, the IT boy, the one with the 1,000-watt smile is going to Shout, because he says it's a song he can not just sing, but really, really perform. And he really, really does. On a night of less than stellar performances, he shines, even though the lyrics aren't especially challenging. Randy and Paula gush; Simon calls him a Chippendale with a bothersome smile. I'm still trying to figure that one out.

I knew we couldn't get through a performance night without at least one Stevie Wonder song. Elliott Yamin is the guilty one with If You Really Love Me. I fully expect Idol contestants to destroy Stevie Wonder songs, but Elliott leaves the song intact with little damage. In fact, he's as good as I had hoped after the Hollywood rounds. Randy calls him da bomb, Paula does what Paula does, and Simon pisses off thousands of Claymates by telling Elliott he has the potential to become the greatest male contestant in the history of male contestants.

Ace Young says he's never performed George Michael's Father Figure, but has always loved the song. Ace has a really cute brother. Ace is a really cute guy. Randy celebrates the fact that Ace plays to the camera and can sing. Paula drools. Simon says Ace is an X, as in factor. Me? I'm trying to catch my breath.

Chris Daughtry says he hopes America will be singing with him as he performs Wanted Dead or Alive. And he is forced to sing it in front of the Burger King flame background or, I suppose, the dead in Hell background. He delivers, without equal thus far, the best, most intense, most confident performance of the evening. Simon says he has potential. I say any more potential and he won't need American Idol.

Taylor Hicks gets the sweet anchor spot and sings Elton John as well as Elton John, but without a harmonica. His joy in performing is contagious. And he leaves everyone else in the dust. Randy gushes. Paula gushes. Simon says he was wrong to doubt him. Me? I'm in love.

Thursday is execution night. Four bodies will be thrown in the heap. And all the fun starts at 8 p.m.