And so this week we witnessed the launch of American Idol’s ninth season, which for me will be my last.

Those who know me know that I am prone to the dramatic declaration, the trumpeting of ultimatums and proclamations that quite often turn out to be, if not a lie, not exactly true. All those times I have threatened to hurl my TV out the window or smack someone have always resulted in no action. Heck, it took me almost two seasons to follow through on my pronouncement that I was never going to watch Grey’s Anatomy again.

Still, Monday’s news — on the eve of Tuesday’s season premiere — that this is Simon Cowell’s last season on Idol, led to my immediate decision that it is mine as well. Because the show has been slipping pretty steadily, both in quality and in the ratings, and I had been coming to this decision anyway. The loss of Paula Abdul as a judge, the show’s decision to replace her with a talk show host, and then Cowell’s decision to walk away, simply sealed the deal.

But enough about all that. Season 9 is upon us! Let us review this week’s 3.5 hours of Idol.

Tuesday night we are in "Boston," except really we are in Foxborough because we are in Gillette Stadium, at least to start. It is torrentially pouring. By the time we end up on some cobblestoned street at the top of a building with sweeping views of Boston Harbor, the sun is out.

Paula is gone, having quit just days before this cattle call commenced (June 2009), and Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham was able to cancel her colonics and sit in as the fourth judge. Randy looks like he went back on the diet (or got some new staples), and Kara’s hunching is worse than ever, as she is apparently so weighed down by the loss of Miss Abdul. Her curved spine makes me want to don a nun’s habit, scream "Sit up straight!" and beat her palm with a wooden ruler.

Posh is so bizarre looking that she makes the de rigueur freaks that they parade in for the judges look good. Her skin is mauve. I swear, she is purple. And shiny. Either she made them shine some weird light on her, or this is what no eating looks like. Also, she has something on her head, a do-rag or a dish rag or one of husband David Beckham’s thongs, and it is not flattering for two reasons: 1) Her hair is up so high in the back it is as if she sprouted a second scalp and 2) Her cheek bones jut out farther than most book shelves. She does have nice teeth. On the second day in Boston she looks slightly better, but I am obsessed with the idea of forcing her to eat a large order of McDonald’s fries. I get the feeling she would tell me to kill her first.

Simon looks exactly the same.

There is some talent in Massachusetts, and some loonies, and the clear tact this season in this phase of the programming is "heartwarming stories." We meet the girl who has all the Down syndrome brothers and sisters and the girl (from Connecticut) who’s Portuguese granny has Alzheimer’s, and blah, blah, blah. Keep an eye on the Guido from Providence. There are crazies and no talents and it is all the same as it always is, except there is no Paula, and to me, that is a gaping void. Victoria Beckham likes to tell everyone they are "nice."

Wednesday night we are in Atlanta and Mary J. Blige is in the house, and looking FINE. The first thing that happens is we learn that MJB is not a fan of Sandra Bullock movies, but she does like liquids that thicken. How do we know this? Because a girl comes in and Mary J. says, "You entered the Miss America pageant and you won Miss Congeality?"

MJB has a hard time hiding her emotions, whether it be derision or hilarity. Clearly, she hears like she sings, and when someone hits a sour note — and there are a lot of them — I believe it causes her physical pain. I interviewed Mary J. once, and she is lovely. I am a fan, even after this.

Atlanta is the same as Boston as it will be the same as next week’s Chicago, in that there are heartwarming tales, and great hints of talent and losers and jerks, and even some surprises. Kara has decided that everyone who speaks with a drawl is "authentic." It’s hard to believe I hate her more already, but I do.

So that’s it. I won’t blog again until Hollywood, when New Fourth Judge Ellen DeGeneres apparently arrives on the scene. Have fun, and I’ll see you guys again next month.