Sometimes it's easy to decide which candidates on a reality show should go.

In the case of the boys of "American Idol," the obvious answer is Sundance Head, a guy who I'm convinced has only made it as far as he has because his dad had a hit song in the '60s and his name — middle name, careful viewers and readers of this blog will recall — is the same as a major film festival.

That fabulous bluesy audition notwithstanding, the guy is, in Randy parlance, "just not good, man." And while he looks like someone who would have one of those shining personalities that makes his average singing somehow sound better, Chris Sligh is reigning so supreme in that department that no one else even stands a chance.

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The rest of the boys were the very epitome of milquetoast, and it was difficult, honestly, to even differentiate between the Rudys, Pauls, Nicks, Chrises and Jareds.

Sure, Paul is the one who insisted on going shoeless, which seems to simply be a quirk he's latched onto in a desperate attempt to not seem bland. But all it really does is make him seem like he may well step on glass and cut his foot open before the competition's over.

And while some of the others won me over in small ways -- Nick for sounding like Marky Mark in "The Departed" when he talked and crying gratefully in a way that didn't seem preening, and Jared for being the only one not to hold his fingers up with his voting number -- none of their performances particularly stood out.

Actually, that's a lie -- Chris Richardson's performance was notable, but that's mainly because his red-faced father seemed like he might potentially keel over from the excitement any minute.

And Sanjaya's was memorable, in that he made a big point of saying that his previously ousted sister picked out the totally inappropriate and dull Stevie Wonder song, which any discerning viewer could easily see was sibling rivalry and fraternal sabotage at its finest.

If I was the gambling kind, my money would be on beat-boxer Blake who, even without the beat boxing, rocked the house in a way that made me reconsider not ever liking the band Keane.

He even managed to inspire Paula to actually make sense when she praised him for being the first to bring a contemporary vibe to the night.

But no one was more contemporary, in my opinion, than Chris Sligh, who actually runs neck-and-neck with Blake in my heart.

And Sundance, I'm afraid, is the poor man's "American Idol" contestant. I believe, my friend, sweet as you seem, that you have had your third strike.

Anna David is a freelance writer. Her first novel, "Party Girl," is coming out in June 2007 from HarperCollins. E-mail her at anna@annadavid.com.

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