The following is an analysis of the only known tape showing Marie Osmond fainting during Dancing With The Stars.

There's not much to say about tonight's bloated DWTS Finale.

Marie Osmond was rip-corded at the start - punishment for her jaw-dropping blow up doll dance from the night before. (Several readers insist she was impersonating Raggedy Ann. Fine, she was a blow up Raggedy Ann.) That performance will live on in graduate Women Studies seminars for years to come.

I did like Marie's video obit, though it couldn't touch the quality of American Idol's video obits. ("I'm Coming Home" chokes me up every time.) Marie talked about how the competition was something she could count on during these past two and a half months. And she mercifully did not plug her doll collection!

It's a good thing that Marie was eliminated before a full backlash took hold. Public opinion was turning swiftly against her earlier today - and Marie knew it. Hence her increasingly neurotic behavior on camera: Her laugh had begun sounding more like a bray. She'd begun sneering at the judges - acidly calling them "stepsisters." One couldn't help but notice a tendency to hectically babble nonsense to her fans. "Spray tan! Dolls! I'm old! Vote for Meeeee!" Marie was clearly losing her grip and needed to be terminated.

Marie's woes are hardly over: There's a growing cult of people who believe her faint was an act. These are the same people who think that Miss Puerto Rico's dress wasn't actually coated with pepper spray, and that 9/11 was an inside job. Marie will need to face her accusers and disprove the charges.

Celine Dion did not appear live, though ABC did a lousy job of suggesting she was actually there. Her performances were pre-taped. (Rene doesn't stay up past 7pm.) Her performance of the Titanic theme was underwhelming but her new song is catchy and she sounded great on it.

The parade of also-rans were notable mainly for its extensive Injuries List. Wayne Newton, who sounds strangely like John McCain, wouldn't disclose his mysterious ailment. And the boxer (it's too late for me to actually check his name) couldn't wait to hobble out of there.

The biggest oops: No mention of Jane Seymour's mother passing. With so much of an emphasis placed on contestants' hardships, this was a major gaffe. Instead we repeatedly saw the Zapruder film of Jenny Garth falling during her quick step.

The most moving moment: The video sequences of friends and family of Mel and Helio. Geri Halliwell described Mel as "super sensitive." One couldn't help but notice that none of Mel's relatives offered testimonials. (Helio's lovely sister Kati told a funny story about sequins.) Maksim was particularly poignant in describing why he liked partnering Mel.

I got the feeling that Mel is a special person and maybe someone who's faced a lot of challenges. I began feeling quite protective of her. One thing she should not do: get romantically involved with Maksim. As individuals, I'm sure they're great. As a couple, I'm convinced that both would end up dead. I can't explain it. It's just a hunch.

Best moment: Cheetah Girl Sabrina Bryan's cha cha was outrageously good. (Just wondering: Is Hillary Clinton the Democratic Party's Cheetah Girl - seen as an inevitable victor, before suddenly failing? I ask because Hillary is now facing a stiff challenge in Iowa from Obama. If so, that would make Obama his party's Helio? Both have big ears.)

The biggest revelation of the evening: the magnetism of Drew Lachey. Samantha Harris is a beautiful girl ... who has no place co-hosting this show. She doesn't listen. (This is surprising, since she's from Minnesota. And Minnesotans are known for being good listeners.)

The impish Lachey, on the other hand, is pure fun. His antics are a wonderful contrast with the droll suavity of Tom Bergeron. They're reality television's Martin and Lewis.

Yesterday I wrote what many observers read as an endorsement of Marie Osmond for this year's Dancing With The Stars crown. I lauded Marie for her perseverance through two and a half months of personal hell (even if I thought her Mambo last week was clunky.)

What a difference a night makes. Last night Marie faced off against Melanie Brown (aka Scary Spice) and indy car champ Helio Castroneves.

First the highlight of Marie's performance: Her impersonation of a live blow up doll to the Rolling Stones' "Start Me Up" during the freestyle competition was more than a jolt. It was a cultural moment. The image of Marie as a giant sex toy was a stunning repudiation of so many assumptions we've made about this woman for over 40 years. She's not the simpleminded good girl sitting at home crafting dolls for little old ladies and their granddaughters. She's a woman - and she's perfectly happy being manhandled by her younger partner, Jonathan. Post-feminism is back, courtesy of Marie.



As for her faith, she made it clear with this dance: She respects her religion, but her religion doesn't own her.

But while Marie's freestyle performance bordered on high art - expect to see the video of this performance playing on a loop in modern art galleries everywhere - it doesn't negate the fact that her opening Samba blew chunks. What's more, we saw the megalomaniac side of Marie when she bullied the judges for their less than sterling reviews. Haughtily proclaiming herself "one of the top doll designers in the world" did little for her much vaunted likability.

Even after her sex-drenched freestyle, she reminded viewers that she's a doll designer (WE KNOW!). The unflappable Tom Bergeron had had enough and tartly replied, "I think we all know that," before shooing her away.

Meanwhile Scary Mel fared only a little better - no thanks to her Spice Girl sisters in the front row. Her opening cha-cha was fine. But her freestyle performance was one long call girl infomercial. When the judges diplomatically pointed out that she was off the charts on the slutty scale, the Spice Girls in the audience turned into menacing soccer hooligans. Baby, Ginger and Sporty started booing and cursing. (Posh, aka Victoria Beckham, was too weak to boo, though she did manage to sit up - kind of.) Judge Carrie Ann Inaba seemed afraid that one of them might drag her onto the "pitch" and start kicking her in the stomach. Not an unreasonable fear.

Which brings us to Helio Castroneves. His opening jive (?) was exhilarating, even if the footwork was faulty. When the judges pointed this out, he accepted their criticism graciously. Then came his freestyle, a grand prix satire of race car driver bravado. The lifts were so great that judge Bruno Tonioli momentarily dropped the Roberto Benigni act (my neighbor tells me that Tonioli is actually from Jacksonville, Florida).

Helio has never performed professionally. Yet he's the best dancer - and, yes, the most likable. And probably the best role model for young competitors. He's got my vote! (Close observers also noticed that Leeza Gibbons smiled and applauded after Helio's performance. Until that moment she'd maintained strict neutrality - like a Supreme Court justice at a State of the Union address.)

***

Some Marie Osmond supporters have brought it to my attention that Helio is Brazilian and, as such, has an unfair advantage when it comes to dancing. Dancing is a major part of Brazilian life. (Brazil is also known for its sugar-based ethanol fuel.)

In fact dancing in the annual Carnival parade is compulsory for all Brazilians above the age of six. Indeed I'm hard pressed to name a clumsy Brazilian. They may not exist. (If you're acquainted with any clumsy Brazilians, please let us know in the comments section!)

My goodness, I had no idea that my blog would become such a Mecca for Mormons. (And yes, I know that Mormonism has nothing to do with Islam. Mormons are indeed Christians.)

In any case, here are three Mormon-related factoids:

1. The Osmonds were discovered by Andy Williams' father Jay while the Osmond Brothers quartet (which included neither Donny nor, of course, Marie) were singing at Disneyland in 1962. Another reason to love Andy Williams whom I always preferred over Perry Como. (Don't ask why I always pitted those two against each other.)

2. The Marriott Corporation, which began as a root beer stand in Washington, D.C. run by Mormon and visionary entrepreneur J. Willard Marriott, owns the Ritz-Carlton hotel chain. I love Ritz-Carlton Hotels and am glad they've retained a distinct identity, though I also enjoy the regular Marriott hotels. I stayed at the Miami Airport Marriott during this last Super Bowl. Here's Kay Anne, the housekeeper from the floor I stayed on:



Kay Anne was super nice. I got lots of free stuff at the Super Bowl. I gave her all my Bratz swag, which represented far more than 10% of my take.

3. Salt Lake City is so clean you could eat off the pavement around Temple Square. My favorite tourist attraction is the Beehive House, the home of Brigham Young, built in 1854. There's a beehive motif (symbolizing industriousness) throughout the home. I particularly liked the newels (knobs) shaped like beehives festooning the banister. My biggest complaint is that they only had caffeine free Coke in the cafeteria next door.