One hour of America’s Got Talent is a lot. Two hours is pushing the limit. But three hours of crazy acts and Howie Mandel’s grating personality? NBC is in direct violation of the Geneva Convention for this one.
Vegas Callbacks Recap: 31 of the Top 48 Acts Revealed>>
That’s what Tuesday night brings, and before the two hours of Las Vegas callbacks, we start with the last auditions of the season. Nick Cannon is dressed is his best plum velour suit, which is from his Grimace Formalwear collection.
Avery and the Calico Hearts: A group of painfully adorable little girls who sing a Justin Bieber song, they’re actually better than I thought they’d be and sound like the female version of Alvin and the Chipmunks (The Chipettes), but they also put me into a diabetic coma. It’s the kind of sugary act where I understand why people might love it, but I’m a cynical and grumpy old man, so it makes me want to turn a My Little Pony into glue.
Kevin Shelley: The guy breaks boards with his head. That’s it. He makes it through to Vegas, which officially sets the bar on this show so low that an ant couldn’t crawl under it.
He’s followed by a trio of acts that also go to Vegas, including singer Dezmond Meeks (who should be on American Idol or The Voice or one of the million other reality shows for singers), Thomas John who plays a xylophone by shooting a ping pong ball out of his mouth (yawn) and the girl group 4Play, who perfectly illustrate Barney Stinson’s Cheerleader Effect (a group of women seems sexier as a whole than they are if looked at individually).
J. Chris Newberg: He’s one of those really annoying comedians who plays a guitar and sings joke songs. He’s lame, but Sharon Osbourne and Howie Mandel like lame comedy.
King Diamond: He’s a crazy old man who can’t sing at all and who has crazy eyes. The judges display a rare moment of intellect when they buzz him quickly. Instead of letting him go away quietly, Nick Cannon comes out and makes us suffer through it again, which officially makes me hate Nick Cannon.
Chicago’s Ultimate Tumblers: It’s one of those inspirational, inner city triumph-over-adversity stories with a group of gymnasts, and it’s nice, expect for when they have an accident and crash into each other. I agree with Howie Mandel for once that it’s not that polished or refined, which is a bad thing, but Piers Morgan likes that. Um, so is he saying that he likes people who screw up? Because I’m sure if a juggler dropped a ball or two during an audition, Piers wouldn’t think it’s so raw and fun.
Manchego: He’s a dirty flasher who wears a bathrobe and exposes his increasingly skimpier underwear. I’m no lawyer, but I’m 95 percent certain he now qualifies as a registered sex offender after flashing his junk to an auditorium full of people.
He’s followed by a trio of awful acts hardly worth mentioning, like a crappy opera singer, a balloon artist and a singer who looks like a poor man’s Charo, or maybe what Shakira would look like if you left her in the sun too long and her face melted.
Meet Me at Fairfax and 3rd: The complete opposite of the opening act, this is a musical act from two old men, one 67 and the other 81. One guy sings and plays the piano while the other balances upside down on a chair. It’s one of the stupidest and most pointless things ever, and if they weren’t cute old men, they would’ve been booed off the stage,
(Image courtesy of NBC)