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AGT

kari-callin-01-2009-07-16Here it is, then. Enough of the freaks, losers and oddbods. Time now for the, you know, perfectly normal talented folk.

LOL, whatever! It’s the AGT quarter-finals. In Vegas, baby!

Las Vegas: home to sexually-desperate bachelor parties, the nasty ladies who satisfy their carnal needs and, now, 40 of America’s most talented groups of people to… entertain them? That doesn’t seem quite right. Ah, yes: to send them running and screaming back to Asswipe, Montana while gibbering about singing seniors, precocious juniors, and English talent judges who speak only the language known as “Dribble“.

More details about the whole painful mess of post-auditions week after this little jump.

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America's Got Talent, Kari Callin, RealitySome things haven’t changed from the British version of Got Talent.

There’s the smug judge on the right, the facially inarticulate judge in the middle, and Piers Morgan on the left (still desperately trying to make comprehensible words come out of his slimy, floppy-jawed mouth).

And now America’s got Talent strikes another BGT-like chord: last night, an aesthetically displeasing lady with terrible hair lumbered onto the stage and sang a song a bit better than you’d thought she would.

They’re obviously nicking all our ideas. Which is depressing, as it means that fifteen dancing twatpuppets will win the thing.

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