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Rarely have I been so happy to have been wrong about a prediction.

Congratulations, Mr. Cook. You displayed yourself as a sweet, classy guy last night and even made the “Idol” winners song sound good.

See you on the charts.

Sometimes, when I go to Las Vegas and sit down at a video poker machine, I just have a feeling, an intuition if you will, that this will NOT be the machine that will increase my bank account.

Do I get up and move to another machine?

Nope. I stick it out, even somehow knowing that I’ll never walk away a winner. Why? Because the odds are the same no matter the computer chip – it’s all a matter of timing and, of course luck.

That’s kind of how I feel about last night’s “American Idol” finale.

I know in my gut that the little Ewok-Muppet-blinky puppy David Archuleta is going to win. He didn’t display a “knockout” of a night, as Simon proclaimed (I’m starting to think Simon and Randy are being paid off by Daddy Archuleta, because their drooling over this kid is so off base), but, you know, once Randy tells you that you are “molten” and “can sing the phone book” (AGAIN he pulls out the phone book!! And people want Paula fired?!), you’re pretty much on your way to singing “In This Moment.”

I’m not even going to bother commenting on the embarrassingly cheesy theme of pitting the Davids against each other like boxers, right down to luring Mr. Let’s Get Ready To Rumbleeeeeeeeeee opening the show and making those poor young men reveal their weight in front of the bajillion countries Ryan said were watching.

But you just know that Nigel Lythgoe and Co. have been salivating over an all-male finale since Ruben Studdard and Clay Aiken way back in season two – and, well, face it, you really couldn’t pull off a boxing motif with those two.

So back to my luck theory.

Hurrah, hurrah!  Yeah, I’m psyched. “So You Think You Can Dance” returns for a fabulous fourth season on Fox 8-10 p.m. Thursday. (If you miss out, don’t stress, the season premiere runs again 8-10 p.m. May 26.)

Here’s the scoop, according to Fox Publicity Express:

* Season 4 auditions were held in Dallas, Charleston, S.C., Salt Lake City, Los Angeles, Milwaukee, Wis., and Washington.

* Nigel Lythgoe and Mary Murphy return as weekly judges, and Cat Deeley is back as host.

* Mia Michaels, Napoleon D’umo, Tabitha D’umo and Adam Shankman are among the guest judges.

* PID (particularly important dates): June 5, Top 20 dancers (10 boys, 10 girls) revealed in the Las Vegas round. June 11, Top 20 dancers perform. June 12, first LIVE results show.

Pull out your dancin’ slippers and warm up the remote! “SYTYCD” is back and—I assume—bigger, splashier and better than ever. Want to follow the show online? Check out http://www.fox.com/dance/.

So my friend Regina visited this weekend. Regina and I have been buds since eighth grade but haven’t lived in the same city since 10th grade. It’s one of those friendships, though, where you can go a year without corresponding—but the next time you meet, it’s like you saw each other yesterday.

Regina and her family now live in Springfield. But luckily for me, Regina loves Richmond. Seriously, she could be a whole “You go, Richmond!“ campaign in and of herself. That’s part of the reason it’s so much fun when she visits. She’s always ready to try the latest restaurant, cruise a new neighborhood or check out the trendy shopping areas.

Considering she was only here for about 27 hours, we outdid ourselves this weekend. I introduced her to Common Groundz, The Phoenician and Cafe Rustica. Score! She loved all three.

Common Groundz (above)—coffeehouse at Broad and Boulevard with VCU vibe, great sandwiches and fabulous Zuppa soups. The Phoenician (below)—near West End remake of La Casita with great Lebanese fare (love the olives, pita bread and yogurt cheese that appears as soon as you sit down), plus we got the best seats in the house, what with the “floofy” pillows and all. Cafe Rustica—downtown Main Street post-church Sunday brunch, where the savory bread pudding was only improved by the addition of maple syrup (who knew?!). Excellent omelets and bread. Plus, it’s just so darned jazzy with all the dark wood and European touches.

We planned to drop in on Broad Appetit yesterday afternoon, but the rain and dearth of parking interfered. Parking was more of a problem than it ordinarily would be on a Sunday because Theatre IV’s “Peter Pan” matinee was going on simultaneously. Managing director Phil Whiteway and artistic director Bruce Miller were actually out on Marshall Street trying to help theater patrons find parking. Bruce said they’d managed to find about 200 parking spaces—but the theater seats more than 500!

Of course, that’s a good problem to have. It’s always great to see downtown busy even if people have to walk a few blocks to get where they’re going. And the rain did fizzle out after a bit.

On Saturday afternoon, we went to Stony Point, visiting my friend Susan at Sak’s Fifth Avenue, checking out Anthropologie (one of my favorite drop-in shops) and spending some quality time on the benches outside, soaking up the amazing weather and doing some serious people- and dog-watching.

As Regina noted, many of the Stony Point Fashion Park pooches arrived in pairs. They ranged the canine spectrum, from Yorkies (one of which was a championship dog) to a Dalmatian (mixed) to fluffy white things I couldn’t possibly ID. But boy, were they cute.

I left the mall with one burning question: How—and WHY—do women shop in stilettos? Especially on brick pavements? Inquiring minds ...

At any rate, it was a fine Richmond weekend, made better by the presence of a really good friend.

The thing that strikes you most about Glen Hansard and Marékta Irglová – aka The Swell Season – is how absolutely adorable they look together.

They also happen to sound pretty fantastic.

At Friday’s sold out Toad’s Place gig, the duo, along with four musicians from Hansard’s other band, The Frames, recreated the simple chemistry that made their movie, “Once,” so effortlessly charming by performing songs from the soundtrack with the same underlying tenderness.

Hansard is obviously the extrovert of the two, but his chattiness between songs would have been much better appreciated if the throng of people behind the soundboard at Toad’s remembered that they were there to see a concert, not to loudly recap their day at the office to anyone within 20 feet.

The Swell Season’s music is gentle in structure, but even when the soft-spoken Irglová swapped place with Hansard – she heading center stage with a guitar and he taking over piano duties – for “If You Want Me,” a ballad of tortured longing, it was infused with the passion these two apply to everything.

Though the rest of the band, notably fiddler Colm MacConlomaire, were adept in their ability to quietly anchor these Irish-flavored folk-rock songs, the audience was always more engaged when Hansard and Irglová were sharing their sweet, soaring harmonies.

A generous five-song encore included The Frames song “Star Star,” along with an appropriate cover of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” Hansard has the type of appealingly gruff voice to tackle Van Morrison, an admitted idol of his, but it sounded as if the group was slowly petering out as the encore continued.

About 40 minutes after the show, Hansard was lingering around the upstairs of Toad’s, chatting with a couple of fans, signing autographs for them and posing for an interminable number of photos.

With a bottle of Corona (what, no Smithwicks or even a Boddingtons?) on the ledge next to him, the low-key musician and accidental movie star related that the band was soon going to pull out for Saturday’s show in Baltimore, so no trips to Siné or Rosie Connolly’s before the next gig.

It sounded as if this whirlwind tour has been tougher on Irglová, who Hansard said had been fighting a scratchy throat the past several weeks. Almost on cue, a door leading outside slammed loudly. Hansard smiled tiredly and said, “That’s probably Mar. I think that means it’s time to get on the bus.”

Two weeks.

Two weeks we have to wait to find out if Jin and Desmond get blown to smithereens on the freighter.

Two weeks to see what “plan” Ben had in mind when approaching The Orchid station in surrender mode, allowing Keamy to cold-cock him across the jaw with a pistol (how very un-Ben like to play victim).

Two weeks to hopefully see more flash-forwards of Future Jack and how he digests the information that Claire is his half-sister…although I think the glimpse we got of Future Future Jack in last year’s finale – he of the paste-on beard and suicidal tendencies – answered that question.

Two weeks to figure out how the Oceanic 6 depart the island as a sextet, since in the last few frames last night, they were scattered across the island and freighter in various forms of distress.

Normally, I would question whether we might actually get some answers in the two-hour finale airing May 29 (though last night’s ep was technically the first of a three-part whammy), but I have to say, I’m pretty satisfied with the level of information that has seeped out these past few weeks – especially in those gripping flash-forwards.

But as usual, the questions raised during “There’s No Place Like Home” were endless.

Now we know why Syesha Mercado was so hard to warm up to those first Top-whatever weeks on “American Idol” – the girl is a classic workaholic.

In today’s exit interview with reporters, Syesha acknowledged those frosty moments when she sounded great, but emitted all of the heat of an ice cube.

“When I first stepped into the competition, I was really in a little shell,” she said, noting the vocal issues that plagued her during the Hollywood rounds. “I don’t feel I was at my whole potential because of the negative mind frame I was in. It was really harming my performance. When I got my mind right again, like it was during the auditions, I became more comfortable with myself… I just enjoyed myself more every week. I separated that fine line between overworking and doing so much that you’re unfocused and not enjoying yourself, and trusting yourself and letting go and taking it all in. My goal every week was to feel satisfied after every show, and I felt more satisfied the more the weeks went on.”

When asked which of the remaining Davids she prefers, Syehsa was expectedly non-committal, saying that she felt like a “little sister and a big sister” to both of them. But, she said, “David Archuleta has that beautiful smile and that really, really good connection with a younger audience, and David Cook has that connection with the younger audience—girls go crazy over him—and the older audience thinks he’s really, really charming, all of the older women.”

Despite regular appearances in the bottom three, or, as the contest narrowed, the bottom two, Syesha refused to consider that she might be sent packing – so much so that she literally refused to get her stuff in order.

“I never packed my bags,” she said. “They told us, you know what, you’ve got to pack your bags, but I was like, I’m not packing my bags because I don’t want to go home yet! I’m not ready. I think if you want something, it’s gonna happen for you. If you want top three you’re gonna get top 3. If you want to win, you’re going to win. Whoever is the most passionate, they’re gonna win. Every week, I set a goal and I just wasn’t ready to go home.”

After next week’s finale and the “Idol” tour, Syesha already has a detailed list of ambitions to attend to for life post-show.

“I know that whatever goal I set, it can be accomplished whether it’s within a year span or 10 years,” she said. “I want to make an album. I want to star in a film. I want to do Broadway. I want to open up an organic restaurant…it just depends on what comes first, but I have goals and I write them down.”

So it’s David vs. David in next week’s finale.

Yawn.

Even as Scruffy David (that would be Cook) sweetly held out his hand to clasp Syesha Mercado’s as the final trio waited to hear Ryan Seacrest shatter a dream, was there ever any doubt who was going home?

Syesha didn’t look very surprised at the news, remaining poised and able to flash a mega-watt smile to the Broadway producers watching from home. You almost expected her to make the universal “call me” sign, hoping that someone will save her from becoming the next Melinda Doolittle (my favorite contestant from last year who has, unfortunately, lived up to her last name – at least in any major, public way).

But it’s funny how I’ll always equate third-place week with Elliott Yamin.

Just watching Scruffy David tossing out a pitch at the baseball stadium (albeit with a major league team), Syesha riding in the back of a top-down limo with her parents as squealing fans lined the streets and David “Gosh” Archuleta getting handed a special proclamation from the groovily mustached mayor of Murray City, Utah, instantly brought back memories of Elliott’s magical day here two years ago.

So here’s to Syesha having some Elliott-level success.

But if there were any revelations last night – aside from the fact that I wanted to start a new drinking game and down a shot of whiskey every time David A. murmured “gosh” and blinked…but then I’d be too drunk to type – it’s that Fantasia, God bless her, hasn’t changed a whit.

She’s not my favorite “Idol” winner if we’re talking about vocals – I always found her a bit too screechy and overbearing – but has there ever been a more spirited, command-the-room performer as Lady F? I think her guest appearance last night proved that the answer is most definitely NO.
(Also, was there a more priceless camera cut in the show’s history than to Simon’s nearly dropped-jaw reaction to the Fantasia workout?).

Anyway, that’s why I’m throwing what little gusto I still have for this season behind Scruffy David next week. No secret that David A. just doesn’t do it for me, and Fantasia was another reminder why.

Scruffy David isn’t about to start booty-boppin’ across the stage (and after watching him dance, poor thing, during last night’s dreadful group song, that’s a good thing), but he has presence. His quiet authority projects an underlying sexiness and he’s demonstrated repeatedly that he can mold any style of song and inject it with originality.

David A., meanwhile, still looks and acts like the “Star Search” contestant he once was – a sweet-faced boy in a Members Only jacket who does treacly well and is as dull as a PBS telethon.

But, as Simon predicted moments before Syesha was celebrated home – or, back to her “Idol” dorm – next week’s D&D finale has the potential to be a “humdinger” that will come down not to talent, but to the fan base with the fastest phone connections.

So Britney ran into another innocent driver—again—yesterday. Her Mercedes Benz coupe rear-ended a Ford Explorer in Beverly Hills. My guess—since she didn’t have a child in her lap—is that she was reaching for her 27th Starbucks of the day and just did not notice that pesky 2 tons’ worth of metal in front of her.

Or ... and here’s a theory worth investigating ... did she hit Drew Barrymore? I would’ve jumped on that one—made sense to me—except Drew was hit from behind on Monday. Of course, it still could’ve been Ms. Spears. That one gets around.

Seriously, somebody needs to take her driver’s license and grind it into tiny pieces, impound her car and put a lock on her front door till she gets some sense. Sure, I feel bad for Britney. She needs help. But does that make it OK to put others’ lives in danger?

Remember way back in 2006 when Simon Cowell so despised Taylor Hicks, couldn’t think of put-downs for the hyperactive bar singer fast enough, yet had to sit and grimace through his performances week after week as that omnipotent Soul Patrol boosted Hicks to what has now become a hollow victory?

That’s pretty much how I feel about David Archuleta.

Resigned to the reality that no matter how blatantly he jumbles lyrics (or, in the case of last night’s “With You,” mumbles over the melody to disguise his mistakes), how shiny, yet empty his vocal performance, or how ill-equipped he is to handle anything resembling a conversation, the teen with controlling daddy issues will be in next week’s finale and likely win.

Speaking of resignation, David A.’s read of Billy Joel’s “And So it Goes” (interesting choice from Ms. Abdul) sapped the poignant song of its weary acquiescence and instead made it the equivalent of studying a Monet and walking away with a shrug. It’s a deep song about loss and miscommunication, but as presented by David A., it could have been a nonchalant “oh well” about Banana Republic being out of his sweater size.

But, as usual, Randy Jackson lapped up the youngster’s downy delivery, stopping a smidgen short of anointing him the “Idol” prince.