So You Think You Can Dance: The Bloodletting, pt. 2

Without a doubt, the most exciting part of Wednesday’s episode of So You Think You Can Dance was the teaser for next week’s episode. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re only showing one episode a week. Maybe it’s that there aren’t enough Sexs and Dancin’ Ds for us to feel sorry for. A much more likely culprit is the fact that every time the show breaks for commercials they act like when they come back, they’re going to be showing all the big explosions and people getting shot up in True Lies. Of course it’s just a bunch of spooky music and creative editing.

Some highlight’s from Wednesday’s episode…

Hyperactive Black Kid Who’s Name I Can’t Remember. He seemed like a really nice guy. Excited to be getting his fifteen minutes. Hats off to Nigel and the other judges for letting him into choreography. But when that commercial break came, everything went to slow-mo and they started with that music again. We saw EMTs working over his limp body. We saw an oxygen mask, and was that a defibrillator?! But five minutes later he’s back up, laughing and jumping into his dad’s car! I paid for blood dammit!

Jonathan Perez. The judges said he was the best b-boy they had ever seen. He was fast, and that thing he did where he walked across the stage on his hands was pretty nifty, but other than that…cough. He was nowhere near as good as Hawk from season 3, or as original as Phillip from last season.

Allison Becker. I really did enjoy watching her audition. I have to be honest though, anytime I see someone who’s handicapped audition for a reality competition, I cringe a little. The judges smile and I’m sure they’re sincere in their admiration, but then the realities of producing a television show set in, and the contestant is sent home. You see it especially with overweight people. Why put fat people in shows like So You Think You Can Dance or America’s Next Top Model when we can really capitalize on them with shows like Dance Your Ass Off and More to Love? Maybe I’m just angry because I weigh 700 pounds, and am writing this from the bed I haven’t left in five years. Oh, life.


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