“Or, Why I Hate Awards Season” by S.R. Torris
We are in the season of self-righteousness, self-aggrandizement, and shallow compliments for hollow deeds done and, of course, the inevitability of minute injustices. Yes people, it is award season and it’s going to be a big stinking, festering pile this year.
Let’s see, the Critic’s Choice Awards, that passed, didn’t it? And the so-called People’s Choice Awards are done. They pulled a fast one with the Golden Globe Awards. Lured us in with hopes of Ricky Gervais giving a room full of pomposity the what-for and they basically had him on a leash all night. Leaving us with a bunch of nervous un-funny people trying to be funny while others, who knew their limitations, hit us with the quiet stoicism act. Yeah, I was real convinced by that. Although I did think William H. Macy and Felicity Huffman were cute…
Basically the “cool kids” of, insert whatever American High School you want because that’s all this really amounts to, High School for adults and the politics therein. They dress up real nice and get shiny sparkly things thrust in their anxious little hands, voted to them by the “unpopulars” who want so bad to be them. Unfortunately, the aforementioned unpopulars don’t have a genie at their disposal so they stay behind the scenes. They’ll hand over money to other outsiders they call “directors” (although I hear directors are part of the cool kids club now) so the cool kids get to do what they do and the unpopulars get to sit at the “cool” table on party night. Of course, we can’t ignore the 3 ½ hour party the cool kids throw for themselves – yes, let us prepare our collective barf bags for the stroke fest that is the Oscars™.
And I can’t seem to make up my mind which is worse, the actual program itself, the after show, or the horrendous Inside-Extra-Entertainment-Access-On-Hollywood-Tonight type show that tries to pass itself off as news. Two bubble-heads in a studio because bubble-heads come in pairs, talking extremely loud (why do they talk so loud when they’re sitting right next to each other?) as if speaking at a higher decibel level makes what they’re saying more important. Because it DOESN’T!
“CHARLIZE THERON IS WEARING VERSACE,” – oh good, world peace should spread all over at any moment. Thank you Charlize!
Of course the rest of the team can’t be outdone because they’re there, on the scene, on the… wait for it… Red Carpet! Botox Barbies and Kens, shoving a microphone in the scraped face of a more famous Botox Barbie and/or Ken asking the insipid yet, whogivesaratsass question, “Who are you wearing?” Just once I’d like to hear the answer be: “Something you and the viewers out there can’t afford.” And I’d want that celebrity to look right in the camera with the same vacant faraway look and cow-pie eating grin just as if they’d answered, “Prada.”
Or I’d accept Answer B: “Just a little something I picked up from Target.”
Or Answer C: “WalMart.”
At this point in my tirade I need to stop for a second and double check. Are there any slave, gang, maid, child abuse, Civil Rights, Civil War, or kind-hearted-white-person-saves-poor-Black-kid movies out? I’ve been seeing a lot of African-American faces that exceed the two Blacks per Award Show – also known as the Morgan Freeman and Oprah Quota.
I apologize if I appear a little more snarky than usual but the Great and Mighty George Clooney, with his incredible Golden Globe scrotal massage of Brad Pitt, reminded me how ludicrous and unimportant these shows are in the grand scheme of real life. Don’t get me wrong, art is needed in cultural society. That bears repeating so I will: Art is needed in cultural society. So when these barely-artists start yanking each other in public as if their brilliance shines brighter than it actually does, it tends to piss me off. George Clooney’s declaration and request for acknowledgment by the humble group gathered at the Golden Globe Awards, of the good that Brad Pitt does for the planet, with emphasis on planet left me, quite frankly, annoyed. But hope sprang forth in the knowledge that the true identity of Superman is none other than Brad Pitt.
So George, what does Brad – uh, Superman, have in store for the entire planet this year? Is he coming out with the cure for AIDS in a couple of weeks? How about cancer? Has he found a viable energy source that doesn’t involved further rape and pollution of the Earth? Is he going to stop that drought in Somalia? Flooding in Thailand? Radiation leaking in Japan? Is he stopping the violence in the Congo? Wait, wait, I know! He’s flying to America to create jobs or is it he’s teaching American children complex mathematics and sciences? Has he stopped gang violence? Maybe he’s going to intercede for the Tibetans, huh George? Did he rebuild Haiti already? I know what Super Brad did, he found Waldo! Congratulations!
Facetious, right? That’s Hollywood for you – don’t forget it’s Awards Season. And Meryl Streep being the incredible talent that she is will walk away empty handed again. Because talent is rarely awarded, just ask Martin Scorsese. That is all.
Hold on, I almost forgot. The Grammy’s are coming! The Grammy’s are coming! Rappers, Chris Brown, Elton John, Lady Gaga, Madonna… I’m sure there will be a bitch slap in there somewhere,
Now THAT’S entertainment.