Well, you have to hand it to "American Idol" on at least one count: The producers knew they had a potential snooze-fest on their hands with a David vs. David finale, so they cracked the whip with the writing staff and came up with an overly elaborate metaphor of a boxing match to frame the show. The intro included the golden tones of boxing announcer Michael Buffer ("In this corner ...") and the two contestants decked out in red and blue robes (and prancing around in that silly way that boxers do before a match even though it looks like they're dancing in their pajamas), and while the thought of David Archuleta being able to generate enough aggression from the depths of his relentlessly cheery personality to hit another human being is ludicrous -- it'd be like putting Mother Teresa in a cage match -- it at least gave a theme for the evening.

My special guest co-blogger this week, "AI addict" (and faithful Beehive commenter) Stephen Mintz, who is filling in for the vacationing (and, frankly, lucky) Felicia Matlosz, writes that "clearly the producers have their fingers on the pulse of the key core American Idol crowd...going with the sports theme? Boxing, even? Brilliant."

I wasn't quite so enamored of the boxing thing because it seemed so labored. But perhaps it was because the judges seemed so intent on naming Archuleta winner by a knockout.

With only two contestants, we'll forgo the usual categories and just chatter away.

Stephen says: Okay, so let me start off by saying thanks to the kind voters of the Beehive who have elected me to guest-host this Idol blog...over 51 million votes, and I won! As Archuleta would say "Ohhh. Oh. Thank you. Thank You." Everyone in the Nokia Theater clearly loved seeing Michael Buffer (who?) and the clips with Jim Lampley were spot-on (who?!?). Then they bring out 180 years of experience with Clive Davis ('oh, yeh...I might have heard of him. Was he with the Beatles?') and once again, Andrew Lloyd "Look me in the eyes like you want to mate with me" Webber. All of this wrapped up with Simon's pithy "you won round one." "Round two to Archuleta." And reminiscent of that cool boxing videogame, "KNOCK OUT!"

So Donald, I can feel what you're going to say...you liked David Cook, and like him to win it all. Heck, from the beginning, I liked him. He actually looked like he'd boxed a couple of rounds in his life behind that bar. Archuleta looked much like Elton John would have at his age wearing boxing gloves. But Donald? Archuleta DID win round one by punching "Don't Let The Son Go Down on Me" out of the ropes. Cook did his best of the night with the U2 tune.

Donald says: I'll admit it, Stephen, that David Archuleta did turn in a pretty good show. He at least had a spark of humanity this week as opposed to some of his recent performances, where I was becoming increasingly convinced that he was actually a robot built in some top-secret Utah manufacturing facility. Archuleta's first song had a real spirit to it -- a hint that there is a real person inside and not just an animatron. I was a David Cook fan going in, and I'm still one after, even though the judges seemed intent on making him the loser. Perhaps it's my antipathy toward this season in general, but it seemed to me here was a tinge of desperation on the part of the judges to convince us that David Archuleta is a potential superstar, and I just don't buy it.

Stephen says: The second round I cannot comment on. In the spirit of the evening, I had switched over to a rerun of 'Fight Nights on ESPN.' Okay, I lied. I can comment on three things. First, the songs were overwhelmingly boring. Which is why there are so few name producers in the music biz, cuz writing good songs is really tough (Just ask Sir Lloyd Webber, who hasn't written a hit in 20 years). Second, a question: Is Paula pre-writing her responses?? I know Randy only has three canned bits, and he dragged out the 'you can sing the phone book' line again for David A, but after David C sang, she rattled off her memorized poetry: "With a guitar in your hand and a song on your heart..." Blather! And third, to use a boxing analogy, David Cook needed a cut-man in his corner after the judges ripped him and his choice. That he ended up near Brooke-tears after song three was telling of his night.

Donald says: I about lost it with Randy Jackson's "phone book" line. He obviously ISN'T writing his responses in advance, or he'd dream up something more original to say. Paula's platitudes were so forgettable that they became mere white noise to me, and even Simon seemed a little cowed, as if he knew that he couldn't allow his trademark brutal honesty to extend all the way to a finals night. (What would it say about the show as a whole if it comes down to two so-so singers?) It's clear there was a company line at work: Pick a winner and fawn over him.

By the way, I hated "Imagine" in Archuleta's second go-around. All those ornamented notes and trills take away the song's powerful simplicity, and it became a mere singing exercise rather than a personal musical expression. Points for technique, but for feeling? No way.

Stephen says: My favorite song of the night? Besides Michael Buffer crooning "Let's Get Ready To RUMMBLLEEE?" I'm going with David Archuleta and his Elton John rendition. My least favorite song was anything in Round Two.

But let me leave you with this: I am going to go ahead and give crazy props to Ryan Seacrest. He looks so seasoned in the role of salesman, stick-scooper (a reference to Simon's comment "I know we've been taking a lot of stick this season'), and bad-airtime waster. He does everything he's asked to do, from dancing with Chukcheesie to putting his arm around Archuleta one too many times to working the entire theatre. He really does own the host seat for the show, and brings it in on time. For those who know the world of television (and boxing), what he does really is quite amazing.

Donald says: You know what's odd, Stephen? I can't work up any strong feelings about the finals. The past few weeks I was able to generate a little fighting passion in my critiques of the show -- I actually looked forward a little to capturing in prose the achingly empty stage presence and bland plasticity of David Archuleta, for example. But now, I'm just sort of unmoved. I still want David Cook to win. But if the thinkable happens and little Archie takes the crown, I'll just yawn.

Still, I said I'd blog the awards show live, and I will stick by my promise. You can catch me here 8 pm Wednesday. I'll spend all day beforehand scouring my brain for a little sour to cut all the sweet.