So here I found myself sucked into American Idol 2 this last season, watching intently and commenting inanely on the ins and outs of the competition, and really caring about the voting like millions of other boobs. I actually like Ruben AND Clay. And, to my astonishment, I found myself really liking the Kelly Clarkson single "Miss Independent" - I mean my God, what's next? Have I become a teenage girl? Can giggling into the phone and menstruation be far behind?

So it was with a great sigh of relief that I read these words:

'FROM Justin to Kelly," a quickie attempt to wring a few more bucks from last year's "American Idol" finalists, is arguably the most insipid movie released so far this century. [NY Post]

Kelly Clarkson, who won the TV talent competition and stars as a young woman named Kelly, recently defended Twentieth Century Fox's decision to dump this lame cross between "Grease" and "Where the Boys Are" into theaters without advance critics' screenings.

"I can tell you right now that none of the critics are going to like this movie," she told TV Guide. "They're going to tear into it."

Right on the first count Kelly; wrong on the second.

To truly tear into a movie, it first has to engage you, however negatively.

"From Justin to Kelly" is the movie equivalent of general anesthetic; the handful of unwary civilians emerging from yesterday's first show at the Union Square looked like they had just awoken from a very deep sleep.