On to San Francisco! Super fun happy times!

Seacrest starts off the show by looming large over the Golden Gate, adding to the glorious history of that span. Unfortunately, the mist coming off the bay is leaving Seacrest's coif a little flat. Seems like he and San Francisco aren't such a good match after all.

The Transamerica building! Alamo Square! A cable car! Yep, this is indeed San Francisco. So let's go out to the auditions at the Cow Palace. Anyway, one of the first people we see in this fine, gray building is David Korbel, who claims he's auditioning for both Idol and Seacrest's job. Seacrest says he doesn't feel threatened by David's dreams. I guess it takes more than shiny white teeth and sculpted hair to land this gig. You need that certain...zip!

Our guest judge this time around is Moesha. Moesha! You know I want you so bad! And there's nothing I can do to keep me away from you! Wait. I'm confusing the fictional Moesha with the actual Brandy. Moving on, we're treated to Albert Minero, who describes himself as basically pretty good. Also, his personality is like a razor blade. So...dull? Ho! Genius at work! These things don't write themselves! Anyway, Albert doesn't make it. All those Mineros, all that disappointment.

Matthew Miller, how will you do? I mean, after you fail on Idol, how will your one man stage show do? Let's hope the San Francisco Weekly gives it a positive review. By the way, I had absolutely no idea that was a Kelly Clarkson song.

Back from a break, before advertising his fresh catch of the day, Seacrest introduces a pair of crooners. Jamie Koehler and Ross Williams. How do you tell them apart? Well, Jamie is the big one with the shiny cheeks. He's also wearing a shirt based on Eddie Van Halen's guitar. And Ross is the one wearing a hat that matches his hair, which you don't see much these days. What a debt these two owe to the heroic John Stevens, who courageously forged a trail for crooners on American Idol and earned his driver's license all in the same year.

Next up is Elizabeth Pha. It seems like she took a boat to the audition and got caught in a fishing net disembarking. This is maybe the worst thing I've ever seen anybody wear in my entire life. Although I guarantee people would pay $9.95 online to look at it. I do enjoy how she took off one of her braces and glued it to her forehead, however. But somehow, despite not being able to sing or dress herself, Elizabeth makes it on to the next round.

Hey, you know something? Idol moms are insane. INSANE, I tells ya! Almost as insane as Lashunda yelling at the holding pen for some reason. So that brings us to Justin Clark and his mother. Justin, who covered his jeans in dirt for good luck, shows his best to the judges. And gosh darn it, they like it! Whooo! Hoooo! Oooooooh! Ooooooooo! Whooo! Ho! Oh! Woooooo! Oooooooooh! Ok! Ok! Oooooooooooo! Help me, Lord!

Michael Garcia is one of the many people returning for another try despite being soundly rejected in the past. Michael describes his new look as fashionista, which is quite embarrassing. After all, everybody knows the male term is fashionisto. Michael's soul tells him that he's an Idol. Then again, Michael's soul also told him to wear satin pants with two studded belts. So, you know, don't pay too much attention to what his soul has to say. Randy's soul tells Michael to never sing again. And, unlike most Idol rejects, Michael actually gives up on his dream. Devastating, yet sensible.

Now we have Christopher Noll rapping his little heart out. It's definitely not a gag for The Chris Wylde Show, since that was cancelled in about four days. Nope, this guy just regular sucks. There's no angle to it. All of his lines did rhyme, though. That's a step in the right direction.

Nadia Turner is next, and she proudly admits that she has no positive or negative thoughts about the auditions. How smart is that strategy? Not bad. Nadia, by the way, is hot. In case you hadn't notice. If you were distracted by the hair perhaps, which I am also finding hot. The whole thing is hot. It's a terrific change of pace.

No! Don't jump! Wait, Seacrest is just introducing Victor Mercado. After wasting everybody's time, Victor argues with the judges about his relative talents. Paula tells him it doesn't matter what they think, it only matters what he thinks. Well, it matters what they think as far as Victor moving on to Hollywood, which he isn't doing, but you know, chin up, solider! Simon offers Victor $50,000 if he can get a #1 record in the next six months. I suggest he follow Cartman's lead and form Faith + 1 as soon as possible. Victor later complains that he can move around, which he repeatedly proves by walking around the building.

Jessica Murphy has eyes like one of the children of the corn. She'll probably mentally control the judges by staring at them and move herself on to the next round. Mmm, maybe not. It's a shame that those sweatshirts are absolutely worthless now. Sure, they were only worth $1 before she went in there, but now they're worth zero. Out in the hallway, Jessica engages in more revisionist history Maybe some people just remember things differently than how they actually happened.

Chris Ciompi, you have got to stop moving your mouth so much when you're singing. In fact, you need to just stop singing. Now Chris will have to cheer himself up with a heaping bowl of penne ciompi for lunch. On another note, could there possibly be a more ironic song for Ivan Ganchev to sing than "We Are The Champions"? The answer is no, there could not.

Ha ha ha! Alcatraz! Throw William Hung in there! That is an absolutely killer line! Bravo, sir! Hey! There's a cow! Kudos to the judges for actually giving serious comments to the cowlady. That's well above and beyond the call of duty. I mean...she's dressed like a cow!

Once again we have the incredibly rich tale of J.P. Molfetta, a man who never lets the facts overwhelm him. He can't sing that well, he's been rejected by Idol already this season and the market for sappy boy pop is practically non-existent at this point. But that doesn't stop him from auditioning or laying down insipid, grade school-level lyrics over generic, forgettable pop beats in his basement studio. No, friend, J.P. knows how to persevere! But he doesn't know how to move on to Hollywood. Once again, he is gone. And this is the last city, too. What a tragedy. That we'll all forget about within an hour of tonight's show.

So that pretty much sums up the audition portion of American Idol. And we're all richer for having lived through it together.