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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.

Forget what I said in the previous entry, Shayne Lamas’ career is clearly burgeoning.

This just in from Santa Monica, Calif.:

“Newly engaged actress Shayne Lamas, who was selected over 24 other girls for a marriage proposal by Matt Grant in the season finale of ABC TV’s popular ‘The Bachelor’ series, has chosen the Girls Gone Wild Magazine for her national print debut.

“Shayne says she decided to pose for Girls Gone Wild because ‘To me, Girls Gone Wild is about fun and freedom.  It’s a way for a girl to express confidence in herself.‘  The magazine contains no nudity.“

I’m more nonplussed by that last statement than I am about Shayne’s posing for the mag. How can it be Girls Gone Wild sans naked women? Do they paste those rectangular blocks—the one you see in the TV commercials—over each and every girly part?

Oh, wait, here you go: “Each issue of the magazine comes packaged with an exclusive, uncensored Girls Gone Wild DVD.“ So I guess the magazine is just an entree to the vids.

Shayne is even classier than I thought. We can only hope Matt Grant agrees.

I watched the finale of “The Bachelor” last night. Yes, I admit it. Mock, if you will. 
What can I say, I’m a romantic at heart. As little chance as true love has in this artificial world where bachelor-meets-25-lovely-ladies-whittles-them-down-to-one-and-lives-happily-(ha!)-forever-after, hope springs eternal for me. But c’mon, Matt, what were you thinking? 
In this edition of the ABC show, global financier Matt Grant of London, 27, comes to America to find himself a bride. After weeks of painful and so-not-dramatic rose ceremonies, he pops the question on bended knee.  And wouldn’t ya know it, 22-year-old Shayne Lamas of Malibu, Calif.—whose initial appearance even forces Matt’s big bro, Simon, to comment on her ever-so-bleached-blondness—ends up with the hunka-hunka diamond engagement ring.

Shayne, according to Shayne, is an actress. She is not there, she says, to enhance her career, despite papa Lorenzo Lamas’ comment to the contrary: “I think it was the idea of being on television that was very enticing to her.” 

What acting career, you say? Yeah, I was curious, too, never having heard of her. Here’s what I found, courtesy of http://www.imdb.com: Shayne has appeared in two episodes of “Air America,” 18 episodes of “General Hospital” and three films I’m pretty sure you never heard of: “Endless Bummer” (in which she plays the no-doubt pivotal role of Red Bikini Girl), which apparently has been released but who knows where; “The 13th Alley,” somewhere between completion and release; and “Deep in the Valley,” in post-production. 

You know the latter is Oscar-bound. It also stars one of the interchangeable Kardashian brood and, just to sweeten the pot, Tracy Morgan.

Matt, Matt, Matt. I’d like to think this is going somewhere – despite the best attempts of reality TV, I’m still that romantic at heart – but c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves. Your chances of marrying Shayne might not be quite as bad as 300-to-1, as one handicapper is predicting. But I’m guessing they’re slim. 

So enjoy your little American tartlet while you can – sorry, make that little American “monkey.” (Yes, he DID propose this way: “Monkey, will you marry me?” Which might be the biggest reason of all that the relationship is most likely doomeddoomeddoomed.) 

A new season of “The Bachelorette” premieres next week. Having just come off “The Bachelor,“ I might have to skip it. Sometimes you just have to say no.

P.S. A reader asks what I mean by “hunka-hunka diamond engagement ring. I responded, but the e-mail was returned as undeliverable. So if you happen ever to see this again, Modna17, I just meant a big ring, a really nice ring. It’s a possibly obscure reference to lyrics from the Elvis song: “hunka hunka burnin’ love.“ I think the song is titled “Burning Love.“ Or maybe “Burnin’ Love.“ Thanks for writing!

That goofy guy with the funny hair who suddenly seemed as if he couldn’t care less about winning “American Idol”?

Yeah, that’s pretty much who Jason Castro is – except that, it turns out, he really did want to win.

Castro chatted with reporters this afternoon and one thing he quickly refuted – punctuating it with that halting giggle familiar to “Idol” viewers – was that he didn’t intentionally flub his lyrics to “Mr. Tambourine Man” Tuesday night simply as a way to guarantee a goodbye trip from the show.

“I definitely did not do that on purpose,” he said. “I couldn’t believe I forgot such a popular line that’s, like, written on your soul. Somehow it slipped my mind, but I definitely didn’t do that on purpose … As of yesterday, I wanted to win. I think what it came down to is my inexperience. Once we doubled up on songs, I just wasn’t really being able to focus on both my songs. My mind was just split and I just couldn’t deliver either/or, and I think that’s what it came down to.”

Unlike many of the top 10, the 21-year-old Castro had little performing experience heading into the show. He started playing guitar his freshman year of college and singing shortly thereafter.

“I would learn songs, but I wouldn’t learn them all the way through,” he said with a drawn-out laugh, adding that prior to his callback audition on “Idol,” he performed about 10 or 12 times around his native Texas, and the longest set he ever played was 30 minutes.

Has a contestant ever looked as relieved to be sent packing as Jason Castro did last night?

In probably the least dramatic results show ever – despite Ryan Seacrest trying to plant a Chris-Daughtry-voted-off??!! type seed with his constant prattling about all of this expected “drama” – the guy who threw up his hands in resignation weeks ago rightfully got voted off “Idol”’s dysfunctional island.

Even many fans of the spacey dreadlocked dude had enough of his apathy, which culminated in Tuesday’s twisted wreckage of halting Bob Marley and forgotten words to one of Bob Dylan’s easiest lyrics (“Mr. Tambourine Man” ).

After learning of his fate, the perpetually dazed soft rocker/folkie told Ryan that the thought of having to learn, perform and – yikes – remember three songs next week would have sent him into the land of white coats and happy pills, a place currently inhabited by Brooke White.

Even Jason’s reprise of “I Shot the Sheriff” last night reeked of indifference, as he half sung the words while constantly flipping an annoying strand of dreadlock off his shoulder.

Six weeks ago, I never would have predicted that I would say thank God that Syesha is in the top three. Of course, there’s no way the lovely crooner is going to go any further, because the producers have already decided that we WILL have to witness a battle between the non-descript rocker and the even-less-descript Disney hopeful (aka David Cook and David Archuleta).

But she definitely wins the Most Improved prize – a reward that should at least garner her a tertiary role in some Broadway musical.

As for the rest of last night’s show, it was good to see Bo Bice again, but one would think he could afford a hair cut. I dig Bo’s ‘70s rock Allman Brothers vibe, but, well, it’s not the ‘70s and he’s no Gregg Allman.

But the guy deserved a better post-“Idol” career than he’s received, so let’s hope that last night’s appearance will help him sell a few CDs.

Anyway, moving toward the finale, the traditional Visit the Contestants Hometown episode is up next week and the final trio will perform a trio of songs—judges’ choice, producers’ choice and finalist’s choice.

I suppose there’s no way Simon might choose “Hakuna Matata” for Archuleta?

You’ll never hear me complain about anyone covering a Duran Duran song because of all of my guilty pleasures, they’re the guiltiest. Well, maybe that honor goes to Rick Springfield.

But anyway, I’m still trying to figure out how if last night’s “theme” was songs from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, that “Hungry Like the Wolf” nudged in there since my British boys are most definitely not immortalized in I.M. Pei’s glass pyramid in Cleveland.

Anyone?

Moving on, I liked David Cook’s growling – if overly affected—rendition of the song better than Randy did – and I’m usually hypercritical about performances of songs by my favorite bands. Case in point, I wanted to strangle Blake Lewis last season after he turned Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name” into a wiki-wiki-wiki beat boxing exercise.

But I’ve got to say, David C. made me want to check out the performance downloads on iTunes – and that’s saying something because I spend too many hours of my life trying to avoid iTunes and grousing about it to my friends, who are entirely sick of my complaining.

So even though Ryan pointedly noted at the start of the show that the judges would critique each contestant after EACH song (got that, Paula?), let’s get the two over with at once.

Not exactly. But I did have enough plans to keep me from having time to trim my Bradford pear tree. (Poor tree, I’ll be home soon!)

Here’s some of what I learned in my wanderings:

A. First Fridays Artwalk is still going strong. As always, it’s lovely to see people—all ages, all stages—out and about on the streets of downtown Richmond. I had my first listen to the Happy Lucky Combo and got my first look at the Artwalk’s new market (in a parking lot next to 1708 Gallery). A great addition to the proceedings, it offered fresh eggs, kale, carrots, lettuce ... just the thing to pick up when you’re out perusing art but thinking omelets and salad.

B. I’ve only been to Black Finn once— and that was for a sad occasion— so I’m probably not the best judge of what it has to offer. But my hairdresser, Deborah, hangs out at the Shockoe Bottom restaurant and bar on weekends. So it has to be a happenin’ place.

C. My friend Lisa’s husband prefers NASCAR to Shakespeare. Who’d-a thunk it? But Olaf’s preference for strong odors and headgear paved the way for me to attend Richmond Shakespeare’s annual Bard Bash. Artistic director Grant Mudge unveiled the company’s new eight-minute promotional film (nicely done!), which emphasizes the importance of making Shakespeare accessible, even to young’uns. Especially to young’uns. (The educational component is headed up by the enthusiastic Cynde Liffick). Bobbie Barajas—you know, from WCVE-FM?—hosted the event; it was fun to meet the woman behind the voice.

D. Even Patrick Dempsey has his off days. I know, I can hear the screaming from here. But seriously, even McDreamy has trouble pulling off hefty, wavy bangs when they obscure his beautiful forehead and detract from those lovely blue eyes. *Sigh.* Still, it was fun to see him take one fall after another—except the final fall, which proved one fall too many—in “Made of Honor.“

<<<

E. West Tower is my third favorite cinema (Byrd Theatre first, Westhampton second)—mainly because it doesn’t have 25 screens the size of your Uncle Ned’s big-screen TV and you don’t have to wait in a line that snakes around the lobby three times. That said, the building could use a good airing. As soon as we walked in, I got a strong whiff of eau de stale popcorn. Hmm, maybe a few appropriately placed air fresheners would help.

F. Zorba’s (Greek and Italian restaurant) at Tuckernuck Square still has some of the best rolls in town. And its hummus appetizer makes for a great meal.

G. This was PetSmart’s National Adoption Weekend. I have two cats who pretty much take up every square inch of my house—but if I had room, I know I could’ve found the perfect canine. PetSmart’s Short Pump location was finding new homes for some gorgeous doggy-dogs this weekend. To them all, I say, “Happy tails to you!“

This dog was not at PetSmart, but I like his looks. He won first place in a canine fashion show in Manila, Philippines, last week. >>>>

Oh, Paula. And to think, you were so present, so lucid, so…sensible almost, this season.

“This is officially the strangest show we’ve ever done,” said the ever-observant Simon Cowell at the end of last night’s “Idol.

And man, he wasn’t kidding.

As soon as Ryan Seacrest announced that this week’s judging would be done differently – with the threesome presenting their critiques at the end of the first round of Neil Diamond songs – I instantly hated the idea and also subconsciously knew that somehow, this would not end well.

So what was Paula talking about when she rambled on to Jason Castro about his first song and then continued to talk…about his second song? Which he hadn’t performed yet.

Was she reading the notes she had ostensibly jotted down about David Cook, who was next to Jason in the evaluation line, or were those notes really about Jason taken during…dress rehearsal, perhaps?

I swear I’ve read that the judges often attend dress rehearsal and would also swear that Simon has commented to a contestant that he/she sounded better during that rehearsal. But others – who usually know about this sort of thing – promise me that no such practice exists and there are stand-ins at the judges table during rehearsal.

So…you decide. I’m going with Paula taking notes at dress rehearsal. I mean, c’mon, she thought Jason had already sung his second song? Even JASON isn’t that ditzy.

I’ve also decided this week that if “Idol” can modify its judging policy for the night, I can change the style of my recap.

So, in tribute to the time and depth given by Randy, Paula and Simon last night, here’s what we learned during Neil Diamond week – other than it’s really tough to sing Neil Diamond songs if you aren’t Neil Diamond.