We’re coming up on the end. (But, we’re in Hawaii… Both Halves… A third of the way around the globe…) So, we implored our most distinguished columnist Dan French to lend his considerable analytical skills to this Last Comic Standing affair and blog in our stead.

Dan, for those of you who don’t know, is a comedian and writer who now is devoting most of his precious time to IWorkWithStandups.com, a comedy writing and consulting business. When you are done mulling over his dissection of the search for America’s funniest comedian, hop onto his website, will you?

Now, on with Dan’s analysis:

Are you ready, America? Are you? Are you super-excited for this blog? Is this the best blog in America?! Then let me hear it! Yes!

Sorry, I just thought maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be done.

Here, on the Last… Blogger… Typing!

To tell you the truth, I’m a little lost at this point in Last Comic Standing. They’ve done everything this season except have the contestants come out in Olympic leotards. Wait a minute, is that why they got rid of Sean Cullen? To save us that middle-aged muffin man mind-branding? Next week Jeff Dye and Eliza Shlesinger in rhythmic gymnastic pairs? Jim Tavare and Marcus, synchronized swimming, full thong. Louis Ramey, wrestler’s tights, snatch and jerk?

Maybe so, America. Maybe so.

Anyway, next week is apparently the finals, which means this week was the final performance, which means next week the performances won’t mean anything, which means it’s over, but it ain’t over until it’s over, and that’s just the beginning. It’s just the beginning because all the winners are now signed to touring contracts by NBC, so, less cash bonanza, until your fame fades, then okay, go forth.

Damn, sorry, I should get to the analysis, but they’ve got me in the filler mode.

Okay. Here we go.

First, whoever had Danfinity open the show with a song and dance number needs to be shot in their sleep. The idea of singing a Last Comic Standing original song, and then having the comics deliver an awkward one-liner bragging about their comic prowess while the music continues? Seriously. Let’s all go find an effective weapon, tape flashlights to our heads, and track these people down.

Until that happens, here we go with … the Last… Analysis… Analyzing!

First up, we got to see Marcus do his thing, which I’m not really sure what his thing is, but he sang some impressions (Eddie Vedder is hard to understand? at least I think that’s what he said), and he kept getting cheers for great songs that I don’t think he wrote (did he? Marcus is kind of a black guy name, maybe Marcus wrote for Motown?). He also threw out a lot of gang signs, or maybe they’re heavy metal signs (how is heavy metal not a gang, I’d love to see a hair band rise to power and retake the streets of LA).

Marcus? Gosh, I don’t know. Is it necessary to mix that much cheerleading/grandstanding into standup? We shall see, because he’s on to the finals!

Oh, poor Jim Tavare. The man obviously has a brain under that “should have been a supporting character in Cuckoo’s Nest” head of his, and he looks to be in such pain whenever he’s around the hamming it upness of this show. He had a solid set of very throwback standup, joke, joke, joke, a touch of music, and he ended with a prop. He went on to the finals. I don’t think he wins this thing, but, as they say across the pond, he acquitted himself nicely enough. And by pond I’m talking the pond where my English teacher drowned himself back in good old Kentucky (sorry, that’s a little dark, wouldn’t have played well on LCS, are you listening, Adam Hunter?)

The first elimination? Ron G. And his endless cavalcade of characters who all sound strangely exactly alike — male, female, Southern, Californian, all blend into “stare at the camera and over-energize”! Apparently not enough there, America ditched him. And his self-created entourage. At least now he’ll have time to go in search of a couple of jokes to pad his show.

Next up, and on to the finals, Louis Ramey. Which I still don’t quite get. Sure, he’s a pretty innocuous guy, nobody getting hurt here, but it’s just so 80’s club comedy. Stand in one place, look right, look left, linger on the punch, get your breath, here comes another. It’s almost nostalgic. And the jokes are so familiar – Amish gangs, rednecks are good with guns. I can’t see him winning, but I have to say, he did on that stage what I’m sure he’s done on a thousand stages before, and that has to stand for something. Somewhere. For someone.

Adam Hunter came to the end of the line, and I’m not just talking cocaine, although I could, because that’s about all he does talk about. Well, drugs, rappers, strip clubs, sex – all the greatest hits of what doesn’t really function that well on prime-time network TV comedy. Not that you can’t get those jokes on the air, but he just came across as a little too dysfunctional. And his outtake interview – “Any night I tell jokes I never go to bed unhappy.” I thought this guy was a comic. How does a comic not go to bed unhappy? Every night.

Next, Jeff Dye. Wow, there is so little in this set, it’s like watching a teen girl’s boyfriend do a set for her friends at a sleepover. If he played the cute card any harder he would have to legally be considered a cast member of High School Musical. It’s kind of gaggy to watch, and he did racist-lite jokes, but he’s in the finals, and man, maybe it’s all teen girls voting out there? Their fingers are small enough to text really fast, so watch out, this could be the biggest upset since Dat Phan.

Okay, I’m almost done, as was Sean Cullen, who I guess ran out of songs and this week had to switch to Sean Connery impressions? Not nearly as much fun to watch, but he’s gotten some exposure here, and hopefully it helps, he seems like a decent guy, and I have a feeling is far funnier in club sets than in this venue. We sing to thee, oh Great Musical Mugger. You’ve mugged well. Go now, ask for $300 more per week, we hope you get it.

Finally, it was Eliza’s turn to bounce onto stage, and if teen boys are voting, her shirt wins it all. I know I keep harping on her boobing it up, but good lord, for once let me listen to the jokes without feeling like I’m also being smothered. I don’t know that it makes or breaks her, but this was by far her weakest set, lots of what seemed like older jokes, and she took shots at women bosses, which, eh, you’re safer going after the gender opposite of yours if you’re gathering votes. But… she’s earned the win, and you can tell she believes this, too. And she’s gotten the most exposure, don’t know if that hurts or buoys, but by now you know what’s she’s bringing to the yard, my friends.

So, the final five: Dye, Ramey, Shlesinger, Tavare, Marcus (is that his last name, too? Marcus Marcus?).

Who wins?

Tune in next week, and find out, by reading the Best… SheckyMagazine … on the Internet!

We’ll be back in New Jersey next week. We’ll be commenting on the finale and on the implications it may/may not have on the business of standup! Aloha!