Shakira

OK, so, we are down to the 20 finalists of America’s Got Talent, and all we can say is … what? Boy Shakira? Seriously? I mean, we don’t often agree with David Hasselhoff (although who hasn’t tried their darnedest to eat a hamburger while lying on the floor partially clad drunk as a skunk?), we must say that the Hoff is correctamundo in his disdain for the inclusion of the “Shakira tribute transvestite.”

I mean, I love a great transvestite as much as the next person, but this kid has no talent. Just a whole lotta creepy.

The other “what?” choice we have to mention is  Mohammad Kashif, the “dancer.” What? Clearly, whatever this guy does on stage does not translate through the small screen, because when we watch, all we see is a slightly uncoordinated young man waving his arms languidly onstage.

My 9-year-old is rooting for the 14-year-old singer Julienne Irwin. My son likes Side Swipe, the martial arts act. We all love Butterscotch, the beatboxer who also happens to sing and play piano like Alicia Keyes.

There seems to be a lot of finalists this year who are already quite professional, with acts in Vegas, Branson, Mo., and on cruise ships. Several of the singers have albums. This professionalism makes me root for folks like Robert Hatcher, the crybaby sewer worker who sings so beautifully, and Cas Haley, the stay-at-home dad who sings Sting better than Sting.