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Priscilla's rhythmic walking interpretation of a rumba included the most hilariously excruciating moment of the season thus far when, swooning back on one leg while partner Louis van Amstel held her by one arm. They fumbled with their handhold for a couple of perilous moments before he was able to reel her back in. The fact that Mr. Van Amstel is champion Latin dancer and was still unable to get more of performance out of the former Mrs. Elvis just underlines her hopelessness.

With her second accomplished performance in a row, Marissa Jaret Winokur has managed to pull herself out of the two-person basement she had been sharing with Priscilla. Her samba was a frenzy of shoulder-shaking, thigh-baring energy and it won over the judges who told her it was her best routine yet, giving her straight eights. But her best is still nowhere near good enough to take her more than a week or two beyond her former basement bunkmate. And, true to her Broadway base, she is just too theatrical for all those close-ups; she's too hot for TV, as Marshall McLuhan would say (and, no doubt, if he were still alive, he'd be a big DWTS fan -- do I need to include a winking emoticon to forestall snippy emails from all the McLuhan disciples out there?) Here's a little formula she would do well to remember in her future TV endeavors, if she has any future TV endeavors -- desperate plus insistent equals annoying.

If anyone seemed to have an edge going into "the sexiest night of the season," it would seem to be Shannon Elizabeth, whose sole claim to fame is, after all, being sexy. But her samba was boring -- as head judge Len Goodman pointed out, her hips didn't shake. She deserves some consideration, however, since for the second week in a row, her partner, Derek Hough, was struck down. Last week it was some sort of pulled-muscle/cramp/kink in his neck, which when you're a dance, apparently, means an ambulance racing you to the hospital (does a pianist's paper cut rate the same flashing-lights treatment?) and this week he was once again rushed to the hospital, this time for "food poisoning." All of which adds up to a bad luck streak at dancing school for Ms. Elizabeth, who received a 23 (two 7s and an 8 -- from her cheerleading judge, Bruno).

Let's take a moment to talk (again) about the judges' scores. Though all three struggled vainly to find something positive to say about Priscilla's performance, every specific comment they made about her dancing was unequivocally negative, as it should have been: She was terrible. And then came the scores -- straight 7s, which on a scale from one to ten is squarely in the good category. What's the point of a 10-point scale if nobody ever gets a bad score? I guess 7 is the new 2. And it's just flat-out indefensible that Priscilla's scores were almost as high (within a couole of points) as Marlee Matlin's and Christian de la Fuente's.

For the first time, amid the tricky syncopations of the samba, it was clear that there were moments in her dance when Marlee was offbeat and lost. She's been so good and made it look so natural and easy, it's been easy to forget that when it comes to dancing, not being able to hear the music is a handicap. But she showed what John Wayne (another famous dead guy who would no doubt be a huge DWTS fan) would call true grit and got back into the groove. It was an impressively gutsy performance. And while Len Goodman was right and Christian's rumba was merely "competent," that still made it a much better ( than two points) dance than Priscilla's walking-to-music.

Kristi again gave the best dance and for the first time managed to be not just technically precise but genuinely expressive in her routine. The in-training scenes of her family's visit with her two young daughters were sweet and touching, so, fine. She's still unfairly advantaged in this amateur competition, but she's no longer the ice princess. And Jason and Edyta's rumba was smoking -- anybody who didn't have their DVR on for the show is certainly regretting it since you have to rewind and play back in slow motion to gain a full apreciation (or even simple comprehension) of that vertical-splits maneuver she dipped herself into. Halfway through the season, it's looking like a two-person competition, unless Mario can put together a few more performances like his Stevie-Wonder-inspired samba tonight.

So who will be cut tomorrow night? It's got to be Priscilla..