So, here we are, smack in the middle of yet another "American Idol" run. We're well past what I consider the most watchable portion of the show, when we're treated to two hours of mostly bizarre first auditions from people who would be booted from any self-respecting karaoke bar in favor of an Asian man dressed as Elvis.

We're down to nine now, after the big-haired, big-voiced Chris Sligh got the boot last week, thus ensuring that the "Idol" costumers won't have to trouble themselves with any more trips to the big-and-tall men's shop. I liked Chris, if only for his sense of humor about the whole carnival.

Eight of the remaining finalists are talented, charismatic, attractive and ... boring. Any one of them could take the title, and thus doom themselves to the fate awaiting all "Idol" champions: Drowning slowly in the ever-more-crowded pool of manufactured stars churned out by the various reality talent shows.

Has anyone heard from Justin Guarini lately? Ruben Studdard? Constantine Maroulis?

Even Clay Aiken, who seemed destined to ride the shoulders of the Claymates to stratospheric heights, has largely disappeared since a holiday-themed disc dropped to execrable reviews.

With the exception of Studdard, the winners have done fairly well for themselves, with Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood carving out solid careers. The jury is still out on Taylor Hicks, but he's still so deeply buried in the "Idol" machine that it's hard to tell what he'll develop into eventually.

But my point, and I do have one, is that you, the "Idol" viewer, have a chance to sow a little chaos and disorder in the world this week -- and in fact for the next two months -- by voting for the ninth finalist, Sanjaya Malakar.

Since the first time the audience took control of the voting, Malakar, who is approaching single-name-fame status, has defied the judges' attempts to cast him into the Great Outer Darkness of Idol Failure. With last week's bizarre fake-Mohawk hairdo, he seemed to be grabbing his role as class clown with both hands, and the fact that he didn't even make the bottom three seemed to indicate he'd struck a chord.

What would be more fun, watching yet another middling-talented pop singer take the crown or watching Sanjaya and his warbly voice that chases a tune like a cat after a squirrel lead the pack? Can you imagine Clive Davis trying to turn him into a pop megastar?

Randy Jackson would likely swallow his face, Paula Abdul would cry (of course, she always does) and Simon Cowell would die of spontaneous human combustion on camera. That alone is worth a few phone calls/text messages.

I'm not the first one saying this, either. Various Web sites have cropped up exhorting "Idol" fans to "vote for the worst" and message boards are filled with flame wars on the topic.

So, Tuesday night, regardless of whether he shows up with a Vince McMahon-style bald pate, a green mullet or wearing a frilly yellow sundress, a vote for Sanjaya is a vote for ... well, for keeping me amused, at the very least.

And for those of you who have e-mailed asking about it, I wasn't aware that Howard Stern (the DJ, not the Anna Nicole could-be baby daddy) was mounting his own pro-Sanjaya campaign. I'm honored to be in such company! Hey, Howard, how about a guest spot?

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go open a bottle of Scotch and try to forget I just wrote an entire column about "American Idol."

What's weird in your world? Drop me a line, anytime!