Fug Aiken

For so long, America was locked in a nationally terrifying stalemate. Acclaimed actress Annette  Bening and curiously milquetoast yet strangely obsession-spawning singer Clay Aiken had become, however unlikely, one and the same.

I figured it would be Bening who blinked first and backed off their bleached, spiky common ground — if for no other reason than the fact that the aforementioned little square of acreage was probably hotly vied for by a bunch of screaming, loin-quivering American Idol fans for whom he is an unflagging beacon of heterosexuality.

But no.

Unfortunately for Clay, I’m not sure that going from The Bening to something closer to Green Day-meets-k.d. lang is really a move in the right direction. Emo-rock “I’ve just been soaked by the cruel cold rain of my own pain” hair really just looks like a bad wig on him.

Someone needs to step up to the plate and match him lock-for-lock. That way, we we can enjoy another round of “Who Blinks First?” before Aiken finally crumbles and gets a long, curly Tyra Banks weave.