Dear Ramiele Malubay: (“Alone” by Heart) Hey, we were both born on 9/6! (We won’t talk about the year, though.) As for your singing, you have lovely tonsils, but I wouldn’t recommend taking on Heart again. The Wilson sisters didn’t screech like howler monkeys being gangraped by horny, horny hippos.
Dear Jason Castro: (“Fragile” by Sting) I still think you’re a truly gifted musician, but this just isn’t your venue. Okay, it’s like this—I see you as a literary novel on a shelf full of kick-ass genre fiction. No matter how beautiful and eloquent you may be, we want to see some shit blow up, dude.
Dear Syesha Mercado: (“If I Were Your Woman” by Stephanie Mills) Snore. Still an amazing voice. Still no emotional connection. I wish this could be our last letter, but you won’t be voted out yet.
Dear Chikezie: (“If Only For One Night” by Luther Vandross) When you sing ballads you look like Forest Whitaker, which makes me giggle. I don’t think that’s the effect you’re looking for. I like you best when you’re doing the southern blues thing, but you’re still awesome.
Dear Brooke White: (“Every Breath You Take” by the Police) Wow, you’re the last person I thought would sing the stalker song, but now I wonder about that sweet, quiet demeanor. The husband says “snore”. (For those who know us, in this instance he’s not sleeping in his recliner. He actually said the word snore.) I thought it was really good, though not your best. Honestly, you set the standard for yourself with “Love is a Battlefield” and I’m not sure you can ever meet it again.
Dear Michael Johns: (A Queen medley) Parts of it were totally awesome and parts made me put throw pillows over my ears like sage green Princess Leia hairbuns. Either I have a split personality or you were inconsistent. (Huh. Based on the judges’ comments, I should consider seeking treatment.)
Dear Carly Smithson: (“Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler) I :heart: that song in a big way. I think you technically sang it well, but it was an emotional blank (hey, like Syesha). Actually, it wasn’t a blank. You looked totally pissed off.
Dear David Archuleta: (“You’re the Voice” by…umm…huh) You know how they say people grown on you? You’re growing off me. Clear your :censor: throat, dude.
Dear Kristy Lee Cook: (“God Bless the USA” by Lee Greenwood) Good job choosing a song that gives goosebumps by default. You don’t really have the power to bring the tears along with the tingles, but it was pretty damn good. The patriotic vote might keep you in.
Dear David Cook: (“Billie Jean” by Michael Jackson; Chris Cornell’s arrangement) Wicked pissah, dude. Seriously. Wicked pissah.
Dear voters: Send Ramiele home, plzkthxbai.