"I'd like to thank Simon Cowell for rescuing me from a life of unimaginable horror having to work for a living..." (Image by Getty Images North America via Daylife)

Rabid Crystal Bowersox fans (and, admittedly, I lead that pack) better brace yourself:

“American Idol” has picked its winner — and it’s not the MamaSox of our dreams.

If last night’s “Idol” had one clear message for us (other than that the producers desperately want Casey James to lose) it’s this… and it was unmistakable in its clarity. “Idol” is going to do everything it can to make sure Lee Dewyze takes home the crown.

The evidence was stark:

1. In picking songs for the remaining three contestants, the judges (particularly Ellen Degeneres) saddled Crystal with “Maybe I’m Amazed,” a very nice but somewhat slight song from Vegetarian-in-Chief and former Wings frontman Sir Paul McCartney. MamaSox sang the hell out of it, and it was nice to see her stepping out of her mic-stand-and-strumming-guitar milieu to focus completely on showcasing her voice — which is even more elastic than I’d realized. But, like I said, it’s a nice song… but not a showstopper. Crystal did everything she could with it, but ultimately, you can’t build a lasting cathedral out of Play-Doh.

2. And while Crystal walked the stage alone, Lee was given a somber chorus of black-clad background singers who emerged dramatically from a blinding tunnel of white light behind him halfway through his version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” So, beyond even the show’s producers setting him up with an arresting bit of stagecraft and choreography, judge Simon Cowell gave him a drama-drenched song to sing — one that is usually the Hail Mary last resort of contestants who know they’re just a few votes away from slipping back into obscurity. To his credit, Lee made the most of it — no doubt he’s got talent — but it just seemed like Simon and the producers were giving him every tool he needed to close the show in stunning fashion.

3. It’s become clear whose backstory the show’s producers have glommed on to. Lee’s victory in two weeks would be the fitting culmination to a Hollywood rags-to-riches story to rival that of Lana Turner having a Coke at the counter at Schwab’s (which, Wikipedia tells me, isn’t even completely true! We’ve all been living a lie!)

How many times last night — and in previous weeks — has host Ryan Seacrest referred to Lee as “the paint salesman from Chicago”? Yes, Lee was an hourly employee in a paint store before he tried out for “Idol,” and, yes, his music career was… nascent, to be charitable. But the way the show repeatedly recites his humble beginnings before, with Solomon-like wisdom and Buffett-like foresight, the judges plucked him from the depths of soul-crushing obscurity and imbued him with power and confidence and be-knighted him on a pedestal of national TV fame, you’d think they’re just polishing up the story for the eventual press-releases they’ll put out rather than simply introducing a guitar player.

I half-expect next week Seacrest, his face cast in mysterious shadows, to solemnly intone, “Ladies and gentlemen… he was once a poor street urchin from the wrong side of the tracks, scratching out a feral existence based solely on whatever monetary crumbs he could steal from a subsistence living as (shudder) a lowly clerk in a retail service industry… a downtrodden and empty vessel of a schlub on whom life and Chicago had turned their backs… a friendless schnook who had to build his own guitar out of the broken pieces of used primer brushes and ate his meals from whatever leftover condiments he could slap together and stuff into an unhygienic, broke-down paint mixer… his clothes crudely stitched togther from worn out drop clothes thrown at him by angry, violent customers demanding a pound of his flesh and store credit… let’s welcome Lee Dewyze!”

Can Crystal compete with that?

There must have been something in the water yesterday, or maybe fumes from that Gulf Coast oil slick are starting to addle some brains, but in TV studios on both sides of the country, two daytime TV hosts offered bizarre on-air apologies.

In New York, we had Elizabeth Hasselbeck turning on the waterworks and begging ESPN reporter (and quasi-reality-dancing-superstar) Erin Andrews for forgiveness for breaking the bonds of sisterhood.

Andrews, you’ll remember, was the victim of a peeping tom/stalker who videotaped her naked in hotel rooms and posted the videos on the internet. That man has been convicted, but Andrews has since endured bizarre death threats while she’s appeared on ABC’s reality hit “Dancing With the Stars.”

On Tuesday, Hasselbeck, whose intellectual weak spot has always been a moving target, decided it was time to blame the victim and noted that Andrews, who dons the same style of sexy, flashy dancing costumes that every other woman on the show wears, is just asking for trouble by prancing about in those costumes and really should be dressing more like… well, like Elizabeth Hasselbeck, I guess:

“In light of what happened and as illegal and as inexcusable as it was for that horrific guy to go in and try to peep on her in her hotel room… I mean, in some way if I’m him, I’m like, ‘Man! I just could’ve waited 12 weeks and seen this – a little bit less – without the prison time!’”

I don’t have a PhD in Women’s Studies — but I don’t think you need one to know how idiotic that is.

Twenty-four hours later, Hasselbeck offered this tear-stained apology, prompted by her 5-year-old daughter and moral compass, Grace:

The scary part of Hasselbeck’s mea culpa (beyond the look-at-me nature of it, guaranteed to ensure that a stupid, but fleeting, moment on “The View” garnared a second-day story and more press attention for a woman who revels in political victimhood) is Sherri Shepard’s comment at the end: that the ladies of “The View” should compile a blooper clip of their biggest gaffes. Let’s see… there was the time Hasselbeck asked Stanley Tucci what his wife thought of his acting a few months after she died… the time Whoopi Goldberg asked Sir Ian McKellan when the next Harry Potter movie was coming out even though he’s never been in a Harry Potter movie… the time they all laughed when Sofia Vergara joked about being raped… The list goes on and on…

Over on the West Coast, Ellen Degeneres, who still hosts a daytime talk show — you remember it? it’s the one where she’s allowed to talk and be funny instead of just sitting mute and idle — was forced to apologize to America’s corporate ant overlords.

Earlier in the week, she created a spoof commercial for the iPhone. Her ingenious comic conceit? That typing on the iPhone’s small virtual keyboard can sometimes be complicated for people — you know, just like every tech reviewer in the country has written for the last three years.

So, apparently, Apple wasn’t happy and complained… to somebody… and Ellen felt compelled to beg for forgiveness:

Here’s the scary part: apologize for what? For teasing a multi-billion dollar corporation? For saying what everyone’s been saying for three years? Since when do comedians have to beg forgiveness for teasing corporations?

All around… a weird day on daytime TV. I’ll stick to my “King of Queens” reruns, thanks.

Can we crown Harry Connick Jr. the new "American Idol"? (Image by Getty Images via Daylife)

TV critics, music fans and, apparently, a bored-looking Rob Reiner have been crowing since January that there’s something wrong with “American Idol” this season…

Tonight we found out just what the show’s been missing: Harry Connick Jr.

Finally! Somebody added some life to a season that’s always been dancing precariously close to the the precipice of sleeper cliff.

As this week’s mentor for the Idols (it was Sinatra week, natch), Connick didn’t settle for serving up the usual empty gestures of other “Idol” mentors: a few bland platitudes about “being yourself” and “really making the song your own” while making sure to look into the right camera while you hawk your latest unlistenable CD (looking at you, you ungrateful little Usher). Instead, Connick coached the contestants, composed new song arrangements for each of them, performed on stage with each singer, led the band, joshed around with the judges, cracked wise a few times, busted Casey James’ chops, called out Shania Twain for being lazy and even introduced the show.

If anybody “won” tonight’s show, it was the crooner from New Orleans, who, once again, proved himself to be among the funniest, most versatile, amiable and likable guys in entertainment.

It’s too bad the contestants had to go and ruin it.

Well, that’s not entirely true (except for Casey James, who was excruciatingly bad)… it was just that nobody really seemed at home swinging to a Sinatra beat.

Lee Dewyze came closest, ambling his fashionably wrinkled voice through a “That’s Life” that seemed genuine and enjoyable for him. His has been an amazing transformation this season, from deer-in-the-headlights scared to potential winner right before our eyes. While I normally pooh-pooh theme weeks such as this — ones that force the contestants to go so far outside their comfort zone of mainstream music that it seems unlikely anybody can really excel — it’s performances like Lee’s that make me rethink that position; he adapted and stretched himself and came out strong.

Crystal Bowersox was very nearly his equal tonight, bringing a jazzy “Summer Wind” to the stage that started off quiet and interpretive and leaning a bit toward free-form… and then segueing into a brassy finish that was expected, but welcome.

While it wasn’t a water-cooler moment for Crystal like she’s had in earlier weeks, it did show something I love about her — a transformation that’s been quieter than Lee’s, but no less dramatic. Where once she seemed withdrawn and shy — almost like performing was painful for her despite her immense talent — Crystal now seems to be enjoying herself. And she’s getting a little sassier with the judges — she’s the only one left who will stand up for herself when Kara and Simon start spouting off with conflicting theories of what would make her a star. Her money quote tonight, in response to criticism that she was too indulgent and quiet: “I don’t feel like I should just sing really big notes because I’m on ‘American Idol.’ And somewhere, Siobhan Magnus weeps.

Still, it wasn’t a great night overall for “Idol” as the “kids,” as Connick called them, tried their best to adapt to an unfamiliar set of rules. Some adapted better than others, but nobody hit it out of the park.

Some, however, did strike out.

The big loser for the night? Other than Nancy Sinatra –who now looks like this — it has to be the aforementioned Casey James, who, without a guitar on which to solo, had to actually sing — and do nothing more than sing. And, it turns out, that when vocal phrasing and tone and emotion mattered more than your dexterity with a Stratocaster, Casey fell a little short. (Surprising, because he’s fared better at this before.) His version of “Blue Skies” was more than flat, it was painfully awkward. And without a back beat to lean on, Casey’s body was a lost as his voice — he shuffled about the stage with unsure steps, seemingly so uneasy with the entire situation that he just couldn’t wait to get it over with. Even Aaron Kelly — who probably just imagined singing more loves songs to his mom (ick) — fared better.

Say goodbye to Casey James and his flowing golden tresses.

But let’s have Harry Connick Jr. on each week, please.

"American Idol" contestant Siobhan Magnus tries on a classy pose. (Image by Getty Images North America via Daylife)

I’m not ashamed to admit that I let out a yelp of joy when Siobhan Magnus was eliminated on last night’s “American Idol.”

I know it seems strange — perhaps even unseemly – to revel in the dashed dreams of a teenage girl, and, indeed, I haven’t felt this level of animosity in a long while  — not since I was consumed with a hatred for Claire Danes in 1994 have I felt this bile-filled.

But there was just something about Siobhan that rubbed me the wrong way; the self-aware quirkiness has always been an act, I suspect. The proof? No matter how much she tried to present herself as a march-to-the-beat-of-her-own-drummer individual, she had no real sense of her self, as borne out in her “Idol” performances, which were a mish-mash of styles and tones and looks, veering week to week in a grasping attempt to find a quirky niche that would succeed. For all her machinations of self-possessed individuality off-stage, she was always reaching to find a personality that worked for her on stage — and desperately tried a new one on each week (or had one suggested to her by the “Idol” stylists and vocal coaches.  Her quirkiness feels like a facade that masks empty space; a look-at-me approach just for the sake of being looked at. And that pisses me off.

Plus – she’s only an OK singer.

Yes, she can sing – and with practice and experience, maybe she’ll find a style that works for her. But in this competition, she found a gimmick that brought her early platititudes (screaming out big notes at the end of every song with that arm-extended, head-cocked pose that made her look like a mannequin in a Forever 21 store at the mall) and she rode it into the ground. Her voice is a strange enigma – it only seems to expand to dizzying proportions when she’s belting it out at the top of her lungs; when she’s just singing at a normal pitch (that is, all the other parts of the song), her range is quite limited, which, you’d think, is the inverse of how it should work.

In cowboy terms, her voice was all hat and no cattle. I’m glad to see her go.

Kristin Chenoweth -- "Glee"'s crutch? (Image via Wikipedia)

As always, last night’s “Glee” left me bewildered… but in a good way, if that’s possible.

After an off-week (am I the only one who thought the Madonna-themed episode was too gimmicky and forced? Apparently I am, given the scuttlebutt that producers are considering doing another one, and more music stars are rumored to be lining up to have episodes focused on their music…) I’m happy to see “Glee” returning to (mostly) normal.

But something just felt a bit off for me about this episode…

Despite its propensity to veer dangerously close to after-school-special melodrama, the emotional quadrangle of Finn, Kurt, Kurt’s Dad (Burt) and Finn’s mom (Carole) was a welcome development — and gave the show some new and interesting dramatic arcs now that Quinn’s pregnancy has all but been forgotten about (wasn’t that a major plot point, once upon a time?).

And while we’re talking about Burt Hummel, can we take a moment to laud the acting depth of Mike O’Malley? The comic actor who rose to prominence as the fictional uber-Boston sports fan “The Rick” in a series of ESPN commercials and starred in more failed sitcoms than you can remember (and I’m counting “Yes, Dear” in that list despite its six-year run) turns out to be a decent actor with some surprising chops. In a show with more scenery-chewing than a Mamet marathon, O’Malley classes up the joint with some understated line readings and humble demeanor. I want Burt Hummel in every episode from now on.

Back on track now… The exploration of Finn and Kurt’s family relationships — and Kurt’s unrequited love for his fellow glee club (sorry: show choir) cast mate — gave Kurt one of his finest musical moments (“A House Is Not a Home”) and more dimensions to his character beyond just being, as Sue Sylvester puts it, the “gay kid.” Watching Kurt see his father bond with another boy over sports (“I hate Duke like I hate the Nazis,” says Burt) was a welcome addition to the show’s dynamic…

But the episode’s other major plot — Mercedes’ quest to lose weight to fit in on the cheerleading squad — had me scratching my head.

1. It was paint-by-numbers predictable.

2. It didn’t fit Mercedes’ personality.

3. It lead to the show’s biggest disappointment, a full-group number of Christina Agiulera’s “Beautiful” — a song I detest with all my might. “Beautiful” is the antithesis of what it purports to be about; a paen to inner beauty and strength sung by a woman who — at least at the time of her recording of it — used vocal gymnastics and sexual provocation as an ego-gratifying siren call of the most superficial order. Or maybe I’m biased because I once had an executive at AOL — a grown man, no less — tell me that he cried when heard Aguilera sing it live. Either way, Janis Ian it ain’t.

My other worry about last night’s episode was the heavy reliance on guest-star Kristin Chenoweth. Don’t get me wrong — she was fantastic, just as she was the first time. She can drop throw-away jokes with the best of them, dominate every scene she’s in and sing rings around mortal humans — her Barbra-licious reprisal of “A House Is Not a Home” blended with “One Less Bell to Answer” was one of the season’s more arresting moments.

But did it seem like the show was leaning a little to heavily on her? For a show about high school glee club kids singing pop songs, last night was a lot of adult singers and dramatic, adult tunes. It was good television, to be sure, but was it gleeful — or “Glee”-ful? Lea Michele had one line… and special guest Jonathan Groff didn’t even get that.

This worries me — that the show is in danger of becoming too self-aware. “Glee” caught fire because it was a fantasy world filled with hilarity and snark and guilty musical pleasures — balanced, occasionally, by real drama. But if it strains to be too “important” and dramatic, it’s in danger of losing its cartoon fantasticality. And that would be a shame.