Strangely, Vegas had fewer dippy names than I expected. They must have cut the 10,000 Kryseenas and Madicyns for sheer suckage off-camera. We were left with only Desi Yazzie, who I only mention for the bad combination it forms, and Valentin, which isn’t even a bad name, but deserves mention for driving Simon from the room.

Only real (cough) quality name was Mikalah, who is Fran Drescher’s little sister with a tragic addiction to lip liner. Should she win American Idol, she promised to buy her mother breast implants like she’s always wanted. Oh Mikalah, you are class defined. She got through, and with all her, um, personality, I’m sure they’ll have her on camera plenty. But she can sing.

And then there’s….Bobie. (That’s pronounced “Bobby” here in the corporeal world.) Bobie’s psychic. Bobie’s also really strangely built — Television Without Pity went with Divine in “Hairspray” for comparison — but once we saw her mother, Bobie’s bone structure and psychic powers all made sense with stunning clarity. The build: inherited. The psychic powers: a fantasy world to escape to. You immediately knew the whole story: Bobie almost definitely lives at home and probably grew up taking care of Mama more than being taken care of. I bet Mama’s demanding and smokes Kools while watching Wheel of Fortune. I imagine their homelife a lot like “Carrie,” but with less religion and more Cheetos and beer. I feel really sorry for Bobie. Because Bobie tried to sing “Can’t Help Falling in Love With You,” missed every, single, solitary note so horribly it sounded like she was just making up her own weird tune, and was humiliated on TV. She was set up, and I blame Mama. That name cursed her!

Bobie, if you’re reading this: MOVE AWAY FROM MAMA! You’re not psychic, you’re just trapped in a codependent cycle! Move to another state, buy a trendmill, find a nice job and a guy. If you still want to make music, learn to play the saxaphone. It’ll be OK, Bobie!