I’m 30 minutes into this week’s American Idol and my ears are bleeding. I’m somewhat nauseated and I think I want to have a good cry. The decision to base the entire American Idol voting mechanism on the home audience’s shoulders has finally reached the level of Florida deciding, “Hey, why don’t we use a butterfly ballot this year? That’ll be cool, huh?” We have proven that we are nothing but sentimental fools by voting through infinitely likable contestants who otherwise have no talent.

Look, I’m a John Stevens fan as much as anyone. He has a soothing demeanor. He’s humble. He seems like a great kid but it’s time to cut him loose. He’s in way over his head.

Early on this season, I decided that I wasn’t going to write any America Idol articles if I could possibly help it. The only idea I had was to write one about how the show was spent. The early episodes didn’t touch any new ground. If anything, I felt like I was watching reruns from previous years. But then things picked up when they reached the final 12. There were quite a few good singers and a great range of styles and personalities.

I was really enjoying this week’s episode. North Carolina’s own Fantasia nailed it as usual. John Peter did well enough to make me think he was going to make it through to the next round. I reminisced about Vanessa Olivarez from last season calling a huffy Ryan Seacrest a “corporate monkey” and that always puts me in a good mood. Yup, this night was progressing nicely and we hadn’t experienced any awkward moments that might make me want to punch Simon in the face.

That was until John Stevens took the mike in an outfit Elton John himself might call too flashy. His song was a tune that I made famous on karaoke at the Bolero in south Jersey after a bucket of beers: Crocodile Rock. I was so bad, it made a little girl cry and they took the mike away. I can honestly say that my rendition would be neck and neck with John’s.

It was just too hard to stomach and it is time for me to step up. To say John struggled with “My Girl” last week is like saying Roseanne struggled with the National Anthem. And the week before he forgot the words and started doing that “skee dappa dee dappa dee” stuff that David made famous on Real World New Orleans. (Before he was arrested for allegedly soliciting a $10 prostitute) Well, Tuesday night trumped both those performances put together.

John tried dancing and I almost set myself ablaze. He tried to display a dynamic personality that he doesn’t have. In other words, he really tried to be something he’s not. It’s time to tell old blue eyes:” Put your dreams away.” If you saw his face last week when it was announced that he wasn’t in the bottom three, you’d probably agree. If you saw his face this week when he was getting pummeled by all three judges, you would be behind me 100 percent. It was truly painful. He couldn’t hold his head up. He looked like he could cry. He looked broken.

The reason this needs to be said is that this thing could get really ugly. People vote for their favorites only when they’re in trouble. I’m guilty of it and I’m sure you are too. I only voted for Clay when he had bad week. When he nailed it, I never placed a single vote. If he was terrible, I would sit there like an idiot hitting redial for an hour. Complacency of voters towards the week’s best performer has actually cost previous contestants everything. (Read: Tamyra) If this continues, we could be forced to endure his face of shock every time they announce the bottom three when the kid just wants to go home.

It’s time to let the Rat Pack rest in peace.