Another season is over on The Show, and the winner is a Fighting Mule, a graduate of my alma mater…and a guy whose degree served him so well that he was working as a bartender before he tried out on a whim.

I was pleased, but shocked. I thought The Imp had it easily wrapped up, with his treacly ballads and genuine prodigy-level talent. I was never a big fan of the kid, but I know a remarkable gift when I see one, and I’m hoping he busts out in a couple of years and does something incredible when he gets a little maturity on him.

In the end, the race wasn’t close, according to The Host…so the Fighting Mule won easily. I didn’t expect that outcome after watching the final night’s competition. I thought the kid ate the winner’s lunch, even though I thought the Mule had a much brighter immediate future, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest to be wrong about that prediction.

It was a pleasing ending to a sucky final show. The season-closer is always cheesy, but the Alpha Marketers really got their hooks into the thing this year and turned much of it into a big product placement opportunity, and the whole show bordered on piss-me-off unwatchable. The guest stars were a virtual cornocopia of has-beens, even though most of them are still possessed with great voices. The best guests were actual Show winners, including The Fembot, who was starvation-toned and spray-on tanned for the occasion (and still deserves genuine superstardom because of her fantastic pipes).

I was not nearly as obsessed this year with The Show as I have been the last few seasons. There was no real reason for that; I liked watching it and the people who made it to the Bonus Round had real talent. I might have quibbled about the order in which they got kicked to the curb but not to the point of open mutiny.

Perhaps I’ve seen a few too many hours of The Show. Well, now I get seven months off before the whole crew comes back.