And His Suit is Made of Liquid Metal

So I saw Adam Lambert's other performance on SYTYCD (DVR's do not bring about a sense of urgency in TV watching), and it was so meh-tastic as to deserve a word that rhymes with meh-tastic that I don't feel like inventing right now. For one thing, now that it's 2010, my patience for invoking the fashion sense of 1986 is officially at an end. I'm prepared to start wearing a striped vest over a T-Shirt over my shorts n' Docs with a jaunty Cat n' The Hat hat if need be, just so I never again have to see a grown man dress up a shiny Vietnamese pimp suit with poop on the shoulder while not wowing me with lyrics warbled over a Kajagoogoo beat.

Each of these guys would give Adam Lambert a wedgie.

 

I don't know what Lambert's record deal involves, but I get the strange idea that he's perfectly content with the kind of glam-pop his handlers are squeezing out of him. And while that may sell for a while, he's only got so much timbe before the next Idol season and America finding another rubber-faced yowler to make its Gay Boyfriend.