flipit
07-23-2007, 12:36 PM
The Next Best Thing – The Top 10!
Pachita
Going into The Next Best Thing, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Celebrity impersonators vying for $100,000 hardly sounds like a good way to spend a Wednesday night. Little did I know it was the finals! Drama! Passion! Intrigue! Maybe not, but impersonating to the max! It couldn’t
possibly get better than this!
My ebullience was short lived when the 50-foot woman attacked the stage. Oops, it’s just our host. Good thing I have slow reaction time or I would have already been out the door with my tranquilizer gun. Turns out this 15’
lass is none other than Michelle Berkin. Listen ABC, we are really getting off on the wrong foot here because that woman’s name sounds dangerously close to merkin, and I really don’t want to have to be... Oh. My. GOSH, her name actually IS Merkin! As in, ‘Hi, my name’s Michelle. Michelle CrotchWig. Nice to meet you.’ This should be an interesting
hour.
CrotchWig introduces us to our judges. First up we have Lisa Ann Walter, a famous comedian and actress (never heard of her). Oh wait, it’s Chessie from The Parent Trap (you know, that movie where Lindsay Lohan still had
her innocence?), I love her! Next we have Elon Gold, never heard of him for real. And last but not least we have Jeffrey Ross who is... not British? Wait just a second ABC, that is not following the performance reality show handbook. Rule number 3 very clearly states that at least one judge MUST
be British! I am soo not making this up. Okay, fine, I’ll stop, but I bet you he’s not nearly as sassy as Simon Cowell or Nigel Lithgow.
Our first Next Best Thing candidate tonight is Donnie Edwards as 50’s Elvis. I kind of wish they wouldn’t say the person’s actual name, it really takes away from me believing they’re who they’re pretending to be. Oh, who am I kidding, this man is no Elvis. He shakes things up a bit with Blue
Suede Shoes. The look is not half bad, and he sounds pretty good. But the dance is spazz-tastic and frankly, I am glad I am not on the receiving end of the thrashing his left hand is giving the air. I feel like I’m watching Shiloh all over again. After his routine they give us a close-up and his Elvis lip could use some work. It kind of looks like he just smelled something that’s been rotting in the sun for a few days.
The next NBT performer is Lucille Ball. With all the makeup on she does look the part, but is really just plain scary. That’s all I really can say about this woman. She stands behind a long table of telephones, all with different hotline names on them: Hiccup Helpers, Lonely & Desperate (as
in someone so lonely and desperate they have to do this show? Zing!), Tippity Toes Dance Tips, and Aunt Fran’s Fried Chicken. All the lines start ringing simultaneously. The Lonely & Desperate hotline rings with someone who is on the ledge and, in classic Lucy style, she gets the call mixed up with the Dance Tips line and tells the Lonely man to “hop, hop, jump!” Wah wah wah!! The judges loved her and I consider drinking heavily for the remainder of the hour.
CrotchWig takes a moment to introduce the show’s band, The Stand Ins. She then acknowledges the backup singers as the Standouts. Oh stop it, you’re killing me! Then I notice the stand-outs are all black. You dirty racist, now I’m glad your name is synonymous with syphilis patch.
George W. is up next and I anticipate a really painful bit. I mean COME ON, hasn’t George W. been done to death?? So he starts his piece and it’s actually pretty entertaining. From afar he does have the look, and the sound is spot on. He makes up the word nuclorific-strategery and I giggle.
Oh you! Then he starts to sing a song he wrote and I get angry. He loses the Bush voice entirely and sings a song that is maybe supposed to be funny but I can’t hear anything but buzzing and am seeing red. Ugh, Commander you suck. The judges loved it (again) and I dream of Sassy Brits setting hopeless people straight during the commercial.
Our next performer is Tina Turner. The real person tells us that she was trying to get a record deal and couldn’t because she sucked...er... sounded too much like Tina. Without seeing her perform I thought she looked more like a cracked out Whitney than Tina, but what do I know? She decided that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em (also known as settling) and here she is. She starts out slow as I try to figure out what died on her head. That is the worst Tina do I’ve ever seen, for serious. After a too-long intro she busts
out some Proud Mary. She has a good stage presence, but not quite as TinaTastic as I was hoping for. It seems like the Standouts are doing the most work. Chessie calls her sexalicious and says if she doesn’t win she’ll give her $50 for the legs. I’m not sure I’d be committing to that on air
Chess because I’m pretty sure fake Tina will sick her inner Ike on you in the parking lot if you don’t pay up.
Little Richard is up and says he hasn’t slept in 3 days. I think the creepiest part of the show is how they people tell us what they think the celeb would tell them if they were there right now and it’s played at the same time as
the person’s metamorphosis into their character. I don’t really know why but I am totally ooged right now. He takes the stage and starts in with some Tutti Frutti. Ahhh!!!! I typed that because I said it out loud, really really loudly. Boy-o-boy do I heart this man. Chessie and the NonBrit are
dancing in the aisles and I am rockin’ out so hard on my couch that I don’t even care if he sounds like him or not. Little Richard has totes got my vote. I don’t even care if I see the rest because this man is gold. The judges (of course) loved it and NonBrit says we should vote for the suit
alone because he looks like a pimp from Star Trek. <Sigh> NonBrit, a Star Trek joke does not a Simon make. What am I going to do with you?
Babs is up next. Oy. She gives us some info and says she has a bit of stage fright. So you became a celebrity impersonator? That makes sense. They show her in all her makeup and she does a little “Oy vey, I’m nervous (pronounced noy-vus)!” Ugh, your accent is overdone and I hate you. Sorry chicky, but I don’t like the real Babs, and I really don’t like the fake one. She starts her song – Somewhere, Somehow – and I don’t know it, but am pretty sure I recognize it from Feivel Goes West. Now for those
of you who don’t know me, I am a huge nerd and love love love 90% of all animated features. I may even have made up dances to the songs when I was younger. Could Babs have begun the thawing process of my icy heart? No. Absolutely not. Because OY. FUCKING. VEY. Her voice
cracks so badly when she hits her first high that the cat leaves the room and a dog down the street starts barking. I am still cringing just thinking about it. Fake Babs is just painful. She finishes up without any more catastrophes and I give a standing ovation to both myself for sitting
through it and her for finally getting off the stage.
Considering someone this horrible made it to the top ten, I’m actually really sorry I missed the early rounds. I’ll bet there was even a Leonid the Magnificent impersonator on there (who was probably the real Leonid thinking he was
impersonating himself, that poor soul is the craziest crazy I’ve ever seen).
Oh come the crap on, the judges loved her! What the shit is going on here?! The rage induces an aneurism and I pop a few pills. It seems I’ll need them for who’s coming up next. Two words: Paris. Hilton.
Alright, first off, Fake Paris says something about being really busy since all the publicity surrounding Paris going to jail and how it’s really furthered her career. Here’s a brainteaser for you; how in gods name do you make a career out of impersonating someone who doesn’t even have
a career herself? Who would pay to see a Paris Hilton impersonator? I can’t even think about it, I’m already raging. Shh… its okay Pach, take some more pills. They show Paris in full makeup and the drugs make me giggle. Turns out fake Paris looks less like Simple Life Paris and more like just-been-incarcerated-in-gen.pop-and-undergone-severe-beatings-Oz-style Paris. If a good impersonation of someone is as simple as saying things the person says and having the same color hair, than this girl’s got it. She does not look like Paris, does not sound like Paris, and may even
be dumber than Paris (I know, I know, its hard to believe. I’m probably exaggerating there). She does an awful magic trick and I hate her with the fire of a thousand suns. The judges make some sex tape jokes but actually… no… I don’t believe it. I won’t even say it. They actually liked
her.
It is then that I realize they were all taking shots with CrotchWig before the show. I mean that’s the only real explanation. I suppose if I were high and drunk and tripping, I too would maybe enjoy this.
Our next performer is another Elvis. This time we’re looking at Heartbreak Hotel Elvis – apparently post-plastic surgery. This one looks a little more like Elvis and OMG I totally have that same black leather catsuit! He starts in with Heartbreak Hotel, does some major swiveling of
the hips, and I wonder how his crotchal area is feeling. I mean that thing is tight with a capital T. Nevertheless, he rocks the house and the crowd goes nuts. If you look closely, you can even see panties flying around. Chessie’s were there too, I know because when it came time for the
judges opinions she said “I think I’m pregnant again!” Yow! NonBrit says “I’m not even (openly) gay, I could kiss you right now!” Elon loved him as well and wowy-zowy, if this guy doesn’t win Vegas is sure going to have a B-class performer coming its way once the votes are cast!
Robin Williams is up next. He kind of looks like him if you look quickly… and squint your eyes. Does he have the sound? Negatron. How’s his bit? Well, from what I’ve heard of Robin Williams’ stand-up, the man’s got one helluva dirty mouth. Fake Robin Williams’ popped an Orbitz and cleaned it
up (get it?! I slay me.) The act was not good and consisted of Fake Robin Williams doing impressions of other celebs. So… he really isn’t a Robin Williams impersonator so much as a general impersonator. Honestly, his Robin was the worst of all. The Christopher Walkin wasn’t too shabby
though. And I do like me some Christopher Walkin! NonBrit calls him a master impressionist and tells him to get some deodorant (eew). Chessie says he’s got more ADD than her 6-year old twins put together, “but you don’t spill things so I love you!” Umm, can we get child services on the
phone? Chessie basically just admitted to not-loving her children and beating them when they spill things. Next thing you know she’ll be sending her husband out for candy while she disposes of them a la Craig Stebic. Too soon?
Last but not least we have Frank Sinatra. Now let me just say, I LOOOOOOVE me some Frank Sinatra in a major way, so this guy better bring it. He doesn’t really look all that much like Frankie, and Luck Be A Lady wouldn’t have been my first choice, but he is such a little critter man and come on people its Frank Sinatra! I turn off the sound and sing Fly Me To The Moon out loud while he dances around stage. Awww, he sang my favorite song! I think I even heard him say “this one’s for you, Pach.” Swoon!
The judges love him (of course!) but I can’t reallyconcentrate on what they’re saying because SyphilisPatch is a full foot taller than this man. My goodness, is she Swedish? A giant? Part Bigfoot? Time to put my Nancy Drew detective kit to work! And with that, the phone lines open and the
top ten anxiously await America’s decision. Who will be The Next Best
Thing?
Pachita
Going into The Next Best Thing, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Celebrity impersonators vying for $100,000 hardly sounds like a good way to spend a Wednesday night. Little did I know it was the finals! Drama! Passion! Intrigue! Maybe not, but impersonating to the max! It couldn’t
possibly get better than this!
My ebullience was short lived when the 50-foot woman attacked the stage. Oops, it’s just our host. Good thing I have slow reaction time or I would have already been out the door with my tranquilizer gun. Turns out this 15’
lass is none other than Michelle Berkin. Listen ABC, we are really getting off on the wrong foot here because that woman’s name sounds dangerously close to merkin, and I really don’t want to have to be... Oh. My. GOSH, her name actually IS Merkin! As in, ‘Hi, my name’s Michelle. Michelle CrotchWig. Nice to meet you.’ This should be an interesting
hour.
CrotchWig introduces us to our judges. First up we have Lisa Ann Walter, a famous comedian and actress (never heard of her). Oh wait, it’s Chessie from The Parent Trap (you know, that movie where Lindsay Lohan still had
her innocence?), I love her! Next we have Elon Gold, never heard of him for real. And last but not least we have Jeffrey Ross who is... not British? Wait just a second ABC, that is not following the performance reality show handbook. Rule number 3 very clearly states that at least one judge MUST
be British! I am soo not making this up. Okay, fine, I’ll stop, but I bet you he’s not nearly as sassy as Simon Cowell or Nigel Lithgow.
Our first Next Best Thing candidate tonight is Donnie Edwards as 50’s Elvis. I kind of wish they wouldn’t say the person’s actual name, it really takes away from me believing they’re who they’re pretending to be. Oh, who am I kidding, this man is no Elvis. He shakes things up a bit with Blue
Suede Shoes. The look is not half bad, and he sounds pretty good. But the dance is spazz-tastic and frankly, I am glad I am not on the receiving end of the thrashing his left hand is giving the air. I feel like I’m watching Shiloh all over again. After his routine they give us a close-up and his Elvis lip could use some work. It kind of looks like he just smelled something that’s been rotting in the sun for a few days.
The next NBT performer is Lucille Ball. With all the makeup on she does look the part, but is really just plain scary. That’s all I really can say about this woman. She stands behind a long table of telephones, all with different hotline names on them: Hiccup Helpers, Lonely & Desperate (as
in someone so lonely and desperate they have to do this show? Zing!), Tippity Toes Dance Tips, and Aunt Fran’s Fried Chicken. All the lines start ringing simultaneously. The Lonely & Desperate hotline rings with someone who is on the ledge and, in classic Lucy style, she gets the call mixed up with the Dance Tips line and tells the Lonely man to “hop, hop, jump!” Wah wah wah!! The judges loved her and I consider drinking heavily for the remainder of the hour.
CrotchWig takes a moment to introduce the show’s band, The Stand Ins. She then acknowledges the backup singers as the Standouts. Oh stop it, you’re killing me! Then I notice the stand-outs are all black. You dirty racist, now I’m glad your name is synonymous with syphilis patch.
George W. is up next and I anticipate a really painful bit. I mean COME ON, hasn’t George W. been done to death?? So he starts his piece and it’s actually pretty entertaining. From afar he does have the look, and the sound is spot on. He makes up the word nuclorific-strategery and I giggle.
Oh you! Then he starts to sing a song he wrote and I get angry. He loses the Bush voice entirely and sings a song that is maybe supposed to be funny but I can’t hear anything but buzzing and am seeing red. Ugh, Commander you suck. The judges loved it (again) and I dream of Sassy Brits setting hopeless people straight during the commercial.
Our next performer is Tina Turner. The real person tells us that she was trying to get a record deal and couldn’t because she sucked...er... sounded too much like Tina. Without seeing her perform I thought she looked more like a cracked out Whitney than Tina, but what do I know? She decided that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em (also known as settling) and here she is. She starts out slow as I try to figure out what died on her head. That is the worst Tina do I’ve ever seen, for serious. After a too-long intro she busts
out some Proud Mary. She has a good stage presence, but not quite as TinaTastic as I was hoping for. It seems like the Standouts are doing the most work. Chessie calls her sexalicious and says if she doesn’t win she’ll give her $50 for the legs. I’m not sure I’d be committing to that on air
Chess because I’m pretty sure fake Tina will sick her inner Ike on you in the parking lot if you don’t pay up.
Little Richard is up and says he hasn’t slept in 3 days. I think the creepiest part of the show is how they people tell us what they think the celeb would tell them if they were there right now and it’s played at the same time as
the person’s metamorphosis into their character. I don’t really know why but I am totally ooged right now. He takes the stage and starts in with some Tutti Frutti. Ahhh!!!! I typed that because I said it out loud, really really loudly. Boy-o-boy do I heart this man. Chessie and the NonBrit are
dancing in the aisles and I am rockin’ out so hard on my couch that I don’t even care if he sounds like him or not. Little Richard has totes got my vote. I don’t even care if I see the rest because this man is gold. The judges (of course) loved it and NonBrit says we should vote for the suit
alone because he looks like a pimp from Star Trek. <Sigh> NonBrit, a Star Trek joke does not a Simon make. What am I going to do with you?
Babs is up next. Oy. She gives us some info and says she has a bit of stage fright. So you became a celebrity impersonator? That makes sense. They show her in all her makeup and she does a little “Oy vey, I’m nervous (pronounced noy-vus)!” Ugh, your accent is overdone and I hate you. Sorry chicky, but I don’t like the real Babs, and I really don’t like the fake one. She starts her song – Somewhere, Somehow – and I don’t know it, but am pretty sure I recognize it from Feivel Goes West. Now for those
of you who don’t know me, I am a huge nerd and love love love 90% of all animated features. I may even have made up dances to the songs when I was younger. Could Babs have begun the thawing process of my icy heart? No. Absolutely not. Because OY. FUCKING. VEY. Her voice
cracks so badly when she hits her first high that the cat leaves the room and a dog down the street starts barking. I am still cringing just thinking about it. Fake Babs is just painful. She finishes up without any more catastrophes and I give a standing ovation to both myself for sitting
through it and her for finally getting off the stage.
Considering someone this horrible made it to the top ten, I’m actually really sorry I missed the early rounds. I’ll bet there was even a Leonid the Magnificent impersonator on there (who was probably the real Leonid thinking he was
impersonating himself, that poor soul is the craziest crazy I’ve ever seen).
Oh come the crap on, the judges loved her! What the shit is going on here?! The rage induces an aneurism and I pop a few pills. It seems I’ll need them for who’s coming up next. Two words: Paris. Hilton.
Alright, first off, Fake Paris says something about being really busy since all the publicity surrounding Paris going to jail and how it’s really furthered her career. Here’s a brainteaser for you; how in gods name do you make a career out of impersonating someone who doesn’t even have
a career herself? Who would pay to see a Paris Hilton impersonator? I can’t even think about it, I’m already raging. Shh… its okay Pach, take some more pills. They show Paris in full makeup and the drugs make me giggle. Turns out fake Paris looks less like Simple Life Paris and more like just-been-incarcerated-in-gen.pop-and-undergone-severe-beatings-Oz-style Paris. If a good impersonation of someone is as simple as saying things the person says and having the same color hair, than this girl’s got it. She does not look like Paris, does not sound like Paris, and may even
be dumber than Paris (I know, I know, its hard to believe. I’m probably exaggerating there). She does an awful magic trick and I hate her with the fire of a thousand suns. The judges make some sex tape jokes but actually… no… I don’t believe it. I won’t even say it. They actually liked
her.
It is then that I realize they were all taking shots with CrotchWig before the show. I mean that’s the only real explanation. I suppose if I were high and drunk and tripping, I too would maybe enjoy this.
Our next performer is another Elvis. This time we’re looking at Heartbreak Hotel Elvis – apparently post-plastic surgery. This one looks a little more like Elvis and OMG I totally have that same black leather catsuit! He starts in with Heartbreak Hotel, does some major swiveling of
the hips, and I wonder how his crotchal area is feeling. I mean that thing is tight with a capital T. Nevertheless, he rocks the house and the crowd goes nuts. If you look closely, you can even see panties flying around. Chessie’s were there too, I know because when it came time for the
judges opinions she said “I think I’m pregnant again!” Yow! NonBrit says “I’m not even (openly) gay, I could kiss you right now!” Elon loved him as well and wowy-zowy, if this guy doesn’t win Vegas is sure going to have a B-class performer coming its way once the votes are cast!
Robin Williams is up next. He kind of looks like him if you look quickly… and squint your eyes. Does he have the sound? Negatron. How’s his bit? Well, from what I’ve heard of Robin Williams’ stand-up, the man’s got one helluva dirty mouth. Fake Robin Williams’ popped an Orbitz and cleaned it
up (get it?! I slay me.) The act was not good and consisted of Fake Robin Williams doing impressions of other celebs. So… he really isn’t a Robin Williams impersonator so much as a general impersonator. Honestly, his Robin was the worst of all. The Christopher Walkin wasn’t too shabby
though. And I do like me some Christopher Walkin! NonBrit calls him a master impressionist and tells him to get some deodorant (eew). Chessie says he’s got more ADD than her 6-year old twins put together, “but you don’t spill things so I love you!” Umm, can we get child services on the
phone? Chessie basically just admitted to not-loving her children and beating them when they spill things. Next thing you know she’ll be sending her husband out for candy while she disposes of them a la Craig Stebic. Too soon?
Last but not least we have Frank Sinatra. Now let me just say, I LOOOOOOVE me some Frank Sinatra in a major way, so this guy better bring it. He doesn’t really look all that much like Frankie, and Luck Be A Lady wouldn’t have been my first choice, but he is such a little critter man and come on people its Frank Sinatra! I turn off the sound and sing Fly Me To The Moon out loud while he dances around stage. Awww, he sang my favorite song! I think I even heard him say “this one’s for you, Pach.” Swoon!
The judges love him (of course!) but I can’t reallyconcentrate on what they’re saying because SyphilisPatch is a full foot taller than this man. My goodness, is she Swedish? A giant? Part Bigfoot? Time to put my Nancy Drew detective kit to work! And with that, the phone lines open and the
top ten anxiously await America’s decision. Who will be The Next Best
Thing?