This . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . is American Idol.

The only remarkable thing about AI last night was that Ryan Seacrest, for the first time ever I think, didn't insert a transatlantic-size pause between "This" and "is American Idol." I've heard that the producers are talking of ways to buoy the show's dismal ratings. So maybe RS, in his own little way, was trying to change it up a bit. Rumor has it that producers are considering bagging Randy and Paula (paper or plastic?). I wouldn't miss Randy one iota. He's awful, but totally predictable in his awfulness. Paula, on the other hand, keeps things fresh—you never know what hallucinations she might be having from week to week.

Now that Idol is down to three capable singers, it has lost its horror factor (although Sayesha's faux-sexy dancing is mildly scary). I miss the Nanny and The Stoner. I even miss Chikezie, who raised the element of surprise to an art form. Ahh, those were ................. the days.