I won't snark on the intent of this show, or on the good works that will surely be done with the money brought in, or on the work that needs to be done everywhere in the world. Most of us take our cushy lives for granted, and it hurts no one to be reminded occasionally that other people's lives can make deadline crunches and taxes not yet prepared seem pretty trivial.
But the road to Good Intentions is sometimes paved with boredom- and this was 2 1/2 hours of pure slog. I have two young granddaughters, so I already see, and hear, more of Miley Cyrus than I ever want to (the girl is like Sheryl Crow- a famous singer who can't), and I never want to think about Simon's nipples. It was nice of the Wilson Sisters to show all the rock wannabes (male and female) how it's really done, and I was fascinated to discover that Kobe Bryant is polka-dotted. Carrie Underwood is even more gorgeous than she was on the show, and Daughtry uses the Royal We. Fergie sings Gilbert and Sullivan while wearing leather leggings and a tutu, Eli and Peyton are still adorable, the appeal of Posh and Becks mystifies me totally, Annie Lennox is truly amazing, and Mariah has never been my cuppa, but she does have the pipes. Forget dancing, The Top 8 can't even sway properly.
And is anyone surprised that Terri Hatcher can't sing?
Fair warning: if AI is opposite The Office tomorrow night, I will probably switch over, and find out who gets the boot later, online.
Oh yeah, and I'll let The Fug Girls have the last word on Brooke's opening outfit: