UPDATE (for those who don't want to read to the end of the blog): David Cook wins. Utah sighs.

FROM LAST NIGHT: It's here, folks. The culmination of the season. The battle of the Davids. The standoff resolved.

My only hope and desire at this stage in the game, other than to wish that my fellow Beehive blogger, Felicia Matlosz, would be suddenly zapped away from her vacation and forced to share this night with me, is that I don't have to go through two hours of boxing.

8 p.m. Please, please, please, American Idol deities, let this final show not continue the labored boxing metaphor that unfolded in last night's episode. Oh no. First shot. David Archuleta and David Cook, swathed in white, square off on a darkened stage as if -- please don't say it -- they're in a boxing ring. And here's Ryan,taking the stance of -- no, not the ring announcer! -- and he's going to say something, and if it's about boxing I think I'll just crawl into a corner right now.

But no. It's just the two contestants dressed in snug white outfits that make them look like tennis pros.

No boxing. Maybe it's going to be an OK night after all.

8:08 p.m.: Well, maybe some second thoughts about those white outfits. The Top 12 are decked out in various permutations of white, and they're dancing around, and they all look deliriously happy, as if they just landed in the remake of the "Brady Bunch" reunion movie. Look! There's Brooke! And she isn't crying! Give her time.

8:14 p.m.: Man, those movie studio execs are GOOD. We're in the midst of the most elaborate movie tie-in imaginable, with a costumed Mike Myers done up as "The Love Guru." He "meets" the two Davids. Best line of the exchange: when Myers tells David Archuleta that someday he's going to grow hair in strange and wonderful places and then he'll make a boom-boom in his pull-ups. The look on Archie's face is utterly confused. He's probably thinking: What am I supposed to do now, Dad? Dad: He said a naughty!

8:17 p.m.: Ryan Seacrest is sitting on a magic carpet. Seriously. And it moves. The carpet starts out on a journey -- is it on the way to West Hollywood? -- before he puts on the brakes.

8:23 p.m.: The consolation prizes start. First up is Syesha Mercado, who launches into a duet with Seal and is immediately overpowered by the power of his voice. Sorry, Syesha, but you sound downright tinny tonight. You look great, though.

8:26 p.m.: Jason Castro is up next, singing "Hallelujah." Did he get those lyrics wrong? No matter. You'll always be our little dreadlocked, brain-cell-zapped, patron saint of upper-middle-class stoners.

8:36 p.m.: Welcome to Donna Summer land. It's making me a little uncomfortable that two men have to walk Summer, who isn't exactly going to win the Living Clean Award, down the stairs. She looks a little wobbly. But no more uncomfortable than Amanda Overmyer looks while singing "She Works Hard for the Money" -- you can practically see her gritting her teeth as she marches from one mark on the stage to another. Summer belts out "The Last Dance," and Paula Abdul nearly has a wardrobe malfunction as she stands up and cheers on the gals. But the best part -- the absolute best -- is when Ryan bops around on stage like my dad dancing.

8:42 p.m. Carly Smithson and Michael Johns are paired up in a duet, and what a disappointment. Screechy and sodden, it doesn't even merit a standing ovation from Paula. We're also treated to a really bad stand-up routine from Jimmy Kimmel, whose first joke (about 19 weeks of karaoke) fell flatter than Kristy Lee Cook belting out a tune.

8:48 p.m. The Top Six guys come out singing a medley of Bryan Adams songs, then are joined by the man himself, who is looking a little craggier than when we last saw him. Very nostalgic.

8:56 p.m.: Best performance of the night: David Cook singing "Sharp Dressed Man" with ZZ Top. Very cool. You know, it's already clear that Cook is the winner of this competition (even if he doesn't win the top award). He's already popped up in a Guitar Hero commercial in a parody of the old Tom Cruise "Risky Business" underwear scene. He looks good, sounds good and has the goods.

9:05 p.m. Some boy band is on stage now, and all I can do is marvel at the flashback to the '80s: Could it really be that shiny suits and rolled-up sleeves are back in fashion? I keep expecting David Archuleta to come out and join them, but he doesn't: Could it be that he'd look hopelessly unhip next to them?

9:13 p.m. I'm mystified. The USC Trojan Marching Band is on the stage. So is Paula, dancing away with the cheerleaders (she sort of looks like their matronly yet slightly tawdry adviser), along with Reynaldo Lapuz (a former contestant with a voice that sounds like a goat in pain) belting out one of his signature tunes. Oddly, the moment is actually kind of moving -- it's bad and gaudy but somehow sort of sweet.

9:18 p.m.: An erotic story to share with you. One of the friends sitting here at this mini-party with me watching "American Idol," after having availed herself of several margaritas, reveals to the room that she had a "David Cook dream" last week. No worries, she tells her husband. "David Cook was hot for me, and I was trying to resist his charms. I was tempted by his blue eyes. But I told him, 'You don't have a chance unless you win American idol. It's the only way I'll cheat on my husband."

And no, she didn't have any dreams about David Archuleta. That just seems wrong.

9:25 p.m.: Speaking of little Archie -- who has already endured jokes about his, um, relative manhood -- he gets the chance to finally break out of little-boy mode with a fine rendition of "Apology" (sorry didn't catch the name of the song) in which we finally get to see him bust out of Sunday School mode. And later on, he gets his own "Risky Business" commercial, although his prim boxers don't have quite the same impact as Cook's tighty whities. So far tonight with Archuleta we haven't had to endure what drove me so crazy last night -- that sappy, trembling, who-me-I'm-not-worthy meekness that might garner votes from sympathetic fans but doesn't jibe with the image of an actual pop star.

9:34 p.m.: And now for a "Saturday Night Live" interlude. Gladys Knight pops up with some new "Pips" -- namely Ben Stiller, Jack Black and Robert Downey Jr. Just like "SNL," the sketch goes on far too long.

9:46 p.m.: One more time for the Top 12, all decked out in formal wear. It's worth watching these group numbers just to see Amanda Overmyer's barely restrained adherence to the ensemble ethos -- you can practically hear her telling herself that it's all contractual. (But wouldn't she just love to rip free and wail away?)

9:49 p.m.: And the "big name" guest star is -- drum roll, please -- George Michael? Um, isn't he a little washed-up? What was with the retro vibe with tonight's show? The finals of the No. 1 show in the U.S. and we get Donna Summer, Bryan Adams, ZZ Top and now George Michael?

9:53 p.m.: Oh my god, George Michael is still singing. Is this song ever going to end?

9:58 p.m.: In the final comments of the judges, Simon Cowell apologizes to David Cook for, well, being a little too hard on him. Is this a stirring moment in "AI" history or what?

10 p.m.: And the winner is ... David Cook!

(Whoops, there goes a marriage.)

I'm delighted.

Final thoughts: Here's what I think happened: Archuleta had a huge and vocal fan base, that much is obvious. But it was a little narrower than Cook's. Did you hear the timbre of the shrieks when Fox cut to live shots in Archuleta's camp as opposed to Cook's gathering? Archuleta's was much higher, as befits young girls. Cook's crowd had a much lower roar, because he could appeal to the broader swath of the populace.

Also, throughout the season, I picked up a much greater intensity of anti-Archuleta sentiment from his detractors compared to the folks who weren't fans of Cook. I'd say that 90% of the negative remarks I got from readers were against Archuleta.

So there you go: another season of "AI' under our belts. And what do you know: the right goose got Cooked.