This being Wednesday, it’s time for me to divulge my pick for leaving American Idol tonight. In the process, I feel morally compelled to inject self-deprecating comments about my utterly shallow infatuation with this icon of pop culture, recognizing that no truly God-fearing creature would enjoy seeing an unabashed emissary of Satan like Simon Cowell verbally pummel hapless twenty-somethings on national TV, summing up their sorry existence with a devastating soundbite.

Anyway, Paris will probably exit tonight, but my choice to go home is Elliott, who actually sang a song which wistfully said, “I wanna go home.” This weekend, my sister-in-law Dorene, a music teacher, told me she likes Elliott’s voice, but his appearance wrecks it for her. He is, indeed, Mr. Tumnus from “Chronicles of Narnia.” To compensate, Dorene closes her eyes when he sings, and then, she says, you catch the rich tone of his voice.

So last night, during Elliott’s first song, Pam suggested I try that. I closed my eyes, and sure enough‚Äîman, his image just won’t go away! But yes, I did appreciate his voice more.

Since I play ping pong on Tuesday nights, Pam tapes “American Idol” and we watch it when I get home. Makes a late night, but hey, we gotta see it. Last night, the contestants had to pick a song from the year they were born. Taylor Hicks did “Play that Funky Music,” by Wild Cherry, from 1976 (Taylor’s the oldest). It was incredible. I rewound the tape to watch it again. Of the people left, Taylor’s the only one I would travel some distance to see perform, because I know it would be fun.

Okay, let’s wrap this up with some more self-deprecation. I’m a culturally unsophisticated worm, a fallen Christian enraptured with worldliness, a compromised specimen of humanity totally unworthy of bearing the label “Huntington University graduate,” an institution of such transcendent refinement that, I’ve heard once or twice (or untold zillions of times), US News ranks it way way up there in whatever category it fits. Enough. Confession’s over.