In the beginning, there was A. J. Let's not kid ourselves.

A. J. Gil was the very first serious American Idol contender from "Seattle" (by which I mean Tacoma, please stop kicking me), way back in Season One. His strategy was to devastate the competition with eyebrows. It almost worked. After he/she, millions followed—millions of seasons of American Idol, and five or so Idol contenders from the Greater or Lesser Seattle Areas.

All of them have failed.

This season of American Idol, which has been widely described as "the most recent," features not one, not three, but TWO whole final 10–ists that claim to hail from the great nearby: Sanjaya Malakar from the misty moors of Federal Way, and Blake Lewis from the smoky crags of Bothell.

These two are now engaged in the most wrenching, fearsome, and vocal battle between two guys from the same general area ever televised on American Idol since it was Star Search. So who are they? Why do they bother? Why do they cry alone at night? And does Paula drink to forget that American Idol is brought to us by the GOP propaganda machine that is Fox to distract us as the Republicans take over the world and she's going to burn in fucking hell? Or that she's famous for breakdancing with a rapping cartoon cat in blue bib overalls? (It's both!) To truly grasp the weird and twisty world of our own local hopefuls—those chasing down that desperate and glittery dream highway called AI (American Idol, not Artificial Intelligence, God fucking damn you, Haley Joel Osment!)—we must start at the very beginning.

Don't interrupt.

As we've seen, Season One brought us A. J. Gil from Tacoma. A. J.'s eyebrows spent several years in a poodle prison run by tweezers. In a rage, his eyebrows once slaughtered an entire village of hirsute Armenian women, or so the old-timers tell it. But that's enough about his goddamn eyebrows. And have I ever mentioned his eyebrows? A. J. and those tortured forehead hedges sang their way as far as the final Top 10 in 2002, but according to Wikipedia.com and common knowledge, "He has had little success after the show." When asked which American Idol judge was his least favorite, he said, "All of the judges are my favorite because they are hard workers and they say what is on their minds," which might explain everything. (If you ever see A. J. dancing at Neighbours, check out his abused Endora brows. And his gigantic. Brown. Nose.) And yet we honor A. J., for he set the stage for Blake and Sanjaya.

And their eyebrows.

In Season Two we met Clay Aiken, who isn't from Seattle at all, but should be, or should move here lickety-split, as we are the "gay friendliest" city in America and he could finally stop twitching like that. (Can I get an "Amen"?) Aiken has nothing to do with anything, Seattle-wise. Okay: Season Three brought us 17-year-old Leah LaBelle from Seattle proper, but she's just an unremembered memory, and warrants hardly a drop of reflection. Here's that drop: Her parents are Bulgarian. (Tip on that.) Aquanetta's daughter "Fantasia" won that season, and Jennifer Hudson "happened," and "She Bangs" or something-something, but Leah? She's a blur, baby. Seasons Four and Five were equally pointless. This leads us to...

American Idol 2007 and big bad blond Blake Lewis. Blake is the beat-boxing, breakdancing faux-hawker from Bothell who strains the flimsy boundaries of human masculinity. Most of what we know about Blake comes from conjecture and lies. According to his MySpace page, he is a 107-year-old female who doesn't want kids. This is half right. Blake's initial audition (he sang something horrible by Seal) got a lukewarm reception from the Drunk, the Bastard, and the Dawg, but they waved him through to the second level, where he proved beyond a shadowy doubt that he could get waved through to the third. Then he really got going.

Blake has many fans, who are dazzled by his versatility, proficiency, cute little noises, and lethal hair. Blake has many detractors, who are likewise dazzled. Simon once asked Blake, "If you are as good as you think you are, why haven't you been discovered?" to which Blake truthfully replied, "Because I live in Seattle." (Touché, bitch!) To relax before a performance, he "goes pee," according to someone, which is always a nice idea. He has family ties to Utah, which explains that overwhelming Mormon thing he's got going on. If Melinda Doolittle falls off a cliff, he just might win this thing.

He is battling Sanjaya Malakar. Around Sanjaya there is much controversy, some curry, one shock jock (Howard Stern), and one monkey-wrenching website (Votefortheworst.com). As Paula Abdul noted, Seattle is crammed with delusional people. Sanjaya proves that they can text. Sanjaya's lingering presence among the top contenders of this year's show has inspired an ambivalence bordering on contention. On one hand, adorable Sanjaya has lentil-flavored eyes that are deeper than destiny, and still 12 months to go before he's legal. On the other hand, Sanjaya has a voice like the first robin of spring, if its vocal chords were shattered and it was getting porked by a sandpaper Q-Tip.

Sanjaya quakes with darling pathos. Eyeless mealworms deep in a poop pile can clearly see that Sanjaya is way over his floppy moppet head, and that he damn well knows it. And this leads to pity, and pity apparently leads to voting. Voting, of course, leads to advertising dollars and thus does Sanjaya persist.

It's rumored that FBI agents have traced the phoned-in votes for Sanjaya to the cells of thousands of registered dirty high-school gym teachers in panties. (Chris Hansen is moving in at this moment....) Sanjaya auditioned with his hot sister, Shayamali, but she got booted off early and now Diwali is, like, SO AWKWARD.

Sanjaya was once asked, "When did you start singing?" to which he replied, "When I stopped crying." Now I just want to pinch his cheeks and feed him something. Not samosas. That would be racist. If he doesn't become the next American Idol, his future is secure as the gay younger brother on the off-Broadway musical production of Ugly Betty, which is the best casting idea EVER. His father probably really wants to punch me now. I urge restraint.

Aum namah Shivaya.

And now, as an uncertain Season Finale races toward us like Bruce Willis on an asteroid, who will come out on top? Who will come out on bottom? Who will finally come out? Will the many-armed gods of fate continue to favor Sanjaya against all logic? (Funny because it's racist.) Or will Blake's beat beats beat the beat, beat heat? And are Ryan Seacrest and Anderson Cooper fucking or what? (I'll kill them both!) And will someone, maybe Howard Stern, finally shove a dick in Simon's mouth and shut that bitter snootch the hell up? TiVo this shit and find out in late June when you have more time! And, good luck, local hopefuls! Do us Seattlers proud! Or else!

Fags!