MOSCOW CATS remind us why felines were once worshipped as gods.

Wednesday, May 23

Rock the Vote

America has spoken, and the American Idol contestants have been whittled down to just...uh...two singers, who are of course, uh...that weird foreign kid with the hair? And...hmmm...a chunky chick with a set of pipes and a healthy body image? Or is it fake/gay George Clooney? Or maybe some guy who can sing like an angel, but really loves to rock. You know he's sensitive because he paints his nails—but you know he's hardcore because he paints them black. Not him, either? Is that slow Asian guy still on the show? What season are we on? See whoever is left square off on the Rose Garden's big screen. Z100 is staging a free screening of the season finale and giving away hot tickets to Kelly Clarkson, the Idols Tour and—OMG!—Justin Timberlake. Plus, one lucky attendee will be sent to the next round of Idol additions in L.A. Wait a minute...who cares? Sorry vast tract of the American populace, but your favorite TV show is just pandering schlock that casts contestants like an affirmative-action soap opera and reduces musical talent to a pasteurized glob of vanilla frogurt. And it's rigged. Those of us with taste and sophistication know the only decent musical-competition reality show ended three months ago, when that hack MC $hamrock took down my boy John Brown in the finals. Hallelujah holla back! Vh1's The (White) Rapper Show may have shafted Brown, a.k.a King of the 'Burbs, but it still kept it hella real! American Idol just be frontin'! Seacrest out. Rose Garden Arena, 1401 N Wheeler Ave., 235-8771. 6 pm doors. Free. All ages.

Saturday, May 26

Sexy Never Left: The O.G. J.T

Forget "the Donald," it's time for "the Tesh." That's right: Jazz innovator, serious newsman and all-around international superstar John Tesh is quietly building an empire. I call it the Tesh-pire. Tesh.com covers everything from "Dating & Relationships" to "Pets" to "Computers & Tech" with all the subtlety of Sunday-paper supersaver inserts. And pretty much everything you can click on is for sale, usually for a low, low price ending in ".99." If you look at his illustrious history, these Tesh power moves aren't surprising. He's always been a heavy hitter. He first toured with jazz god Yanni before the power-duo split, citing "mustache differences." The solo life suited John. He dropped over 50 albums with highlights like the "dirty sax trio" (Sax by the Fire, Sax on the Beach, Sax All Night), Classical Music for Babies (And Their Moms) vols. 1 & 2, and the not at all derivative Music in the Key of Love. Classics. Then, in the '80s, he made the leap to TV. One look at his Oompa-Loompa tan, peroxide smile and thinning golden mop proved this hulking lump of a SoCal douchebag was born for the screen. For a decade, Tesh was the steadfast anchor of that bastion of hard-hitting broadcast journalism, Entertainment Tonight. Now he's taking a break from conquering the world to soothe our city with his soft jazz sound. At the ripe age of 55 (when most of his fellow giants are in organ failure), Tesh still glows. In fact, he hasn't aged since 1988, thanks to a potent cocktail of Botox, vitamin supplements and the still-beating hearts of baby koala bears. See him now—this could be his last tour. Soon the Tesh will be too busy running for governor. Newmark Theatre, 1111 SW Broadway, 274-6566. 7 pm. $22.25-$108. All ages.

Sat.-Sun., May 26-27

Insert "Pussy" Joke Here

American cats are assholes. Don't get me wrong, I like them. I even have one. But he's a bitch. Cats in this country are basically arrogant and unpredictable. They do what they want when they want, which may include shitting on clean laundry or bawling inconsolably at 5 am or leaping from under the couch and clawing the feet of unsuspecting humans. Assholes. But that's not because they're cats, it's because they're American. C'mon, doesn't the word "unilateral" come to mind? Americans—feline or otherwise—don't take shit, we don't think rationally, we attack without warning and sometimes we shit on the laundry (it's a metaphor). But foreign cats are different. Take Moscow Cats Theatre. Through rigid Soviet discipline, these Ruskie furballs have been trained to do tricks and obey commands. Trained fucking cats! This has to be a sign of the apocalypse. These 35 animals "walk tightropes, balance balls, do paw-stands, jump from great heights and unerringly negotiate complex mazes." They even get a "traveling entourage" complete with stylist, caretaker and vet. Those crazy Russians. Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie Ave., 233-1994. 1 and 4 pm Saturday; 3 pm Sunday. May 26-27. $49-$57. All ages.