Monday, February 28, 2011
Academy Awards
Oh Oscar, is there anything you can't do, other than produce a watchable telecast?

Before the show even starts, some jackass on the red carpet tells me who is going to win every single category. He's the Nostradamus of trivial concerns.

-Your hosts for the evening are James Franco (whose career peaked artistically with Freaks and Geeks, IMHO), and Anne Hathaway, who is kinda Picassoesque but ultimately adorable. How will they do? Only time will tell.

-Tom Hanks presents the Art Direction Award. You'd think being a two time Oscar winner would afford him the clout to present an award someone gives a fuck about.

-True Grit is the only one of these films I've seen, so I hope it wins something.

-I'm surprised that Kirk Douglas is still alive, frankly. I know he's Hollywood royalty and all, and God bless him, but I actually said out loud "Just give the damn award already!" when he presented Best Supporting Actress. Does that make me a bad person?

-Melissa Leo wins and says "Fuck" about something. She wasn't in True Grit so I really don't care.

-The pointless presenter banter seems more pointless and bantery this year.

-I'm glad Toy Story 3 won for Best Animated Feature. Sooner or later I'll actually see it.

-They need something more persuasive than orchestra music to get long-winded creative types off the stage. Drop a piano on the chatty fucks!

-Aaron Sorkin wins for Best Adapted Screenplay and he's as insufferable as I thought he'd be. It was like reliving an episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, and no one deserves that.

-The guy who won Best Original Screenplay, on the other hand, was funny, humble, and rather brief. See, IT CAN BE DONE.

-Best Supporting Actor goes to Christian Bale. He stole his beard from Young Kris Kringle in Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Yeah, I just dropped a Rankin/Bass reference.

-Trent Reznor wins an Academy Award. The guy who sang "I want to fuck you like an animal" has an Oscar. And with that, another nail is driven into the cultural coffin that is the 1990s.

-Ok, so Mandy Moore doesn't have the world's strongest voice. However, unlike Britney Spears, she doesn't allow herself to be photographed wearing a gravy-stained tube top.

-James Franco seems disinterested in the proceedings. He's probably thinking about the hot chicks he can't plow until the show ends.

-Aaaah! A cameo from the ghostly visage of Bob Hope! If you're going to use special effects to make Bob Hope appear on stage, have him introduce the montage of people who've died this year. That would be really creepy.

-I'm pretty sure "Florence" is really Andy Dick in drag.

-Sad Music + Celine Dion = Dead Celebrities. You can bank on that.

-Tom Hooper wins for Best Director. Not as hot as last year's winner...

-Louisville's Own Jennifer Lawrence (I've read that description of her so many times I'm almost convinced it's her full name) is up for Best Actress for -huh huh- Winter's Bone -huh huh; but she loses to Natalie Portman. I think as punishment for her awful performances in the Star Wars prequels Natalie should be disqualified from any and all professional accolades.

-I guess Anne Hathaway was trying to make up for James Franco being in a coma by acting giddy. Annoyingly giddy. To paraphrase Chris Rock, "I wouldn't hit her because she's a woman, but I'd shake the shit out of her."

-Colin Firth wins Best Actor for a performance in a film I'll never see.

-The King's Speech....Best Picture....blah blah blah. I'm afraid to see this movie. I'm afraid it'll be one of those unwatchable British films the academy loves so much. Didn't The English Patient win Best Picture one year? And what a festering pile of shit that was.

-Regardless of what I think about the film, you don't "play off" the people who just won Best Picture. If you're worried about time, cut some of the times James Franco was forced to pretend to want to be there. Or cut some of Anne Hathaway's death prattle. 

-True Grit didn't win a damn thing. 

-They let a group of fifth graders sing "Over the Rainbow". Should have gotten midgets instead.

Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Grammy Crapfest
I guess I'll live blog the Grammys. I don't know why. I just saw a commercial for it and I don't like any of this crap.

-Aretha Franklin is great, but this tribute makes it look like we joined the show in progress.

-Will Christina get the words right? The first of many easy, half-assed remarks tonight.

-With every Martina McBride close up, I'm glad I'm the last person outside of the third world who doesn't own an HD TV.

-The "group melody of someone else's hits" is never not disappointing.

-The Beatles of Dull - Train - wins for a song that's in every commercial on TV. At least 'Cast of Glee' didn't win. Really? 'Cast of Glee' is considered a band these days?

-Lady Gaga just shocked the easily shockable. *yawn*

-Blake Shelton is engaged to Miranda Lambart. If that sentence means anything to you, at some point in your life you've had anonymous sex at a flea market.

-Ok, I was going to live blog this disaster, but it's hard to edit using an Ipod touch, so check back after the Grammys for a full (more or less) report.

-I thought Bruno Mars was Jered Leto's shitty band. No, really.

-Someone let me know if anything interesting happened between 9 and 9:30. I watched Family Guy.

-Muse wins instead of Neil Young or Pearl Jam, and this angers me because I'm old.

-David Letterman does a Grammy Top Ten, and this amuses me because I'm old.

-Ok, I like the Avett Brothers. Nothing really snarky about that, though. Come on, Grammys; bring me some of that sweet sweet crap so I can insult it.

-Bob Dylan doesn't sound that great, but I love the fact that he's confusing a bunch of Sugarland fans. "Who's this old guy? Why isn't he pissing on the legacy of country music like Sugarland does?"

-Does the state department have a necrophilia division? Because Lady Antebellum is raping Teddy Pendegrass's corpse on live television. Honestly, fuck Lady Antebellum in the ass with a Grammy whittled down to a sharp point.

And of course they win for Best "Country" Album. Holy shit. They aren't good enough to headline a country music revival show at a struggling amusement park. And Kings of Leon and Miley Cyrus gave them the award. The fact that the world didn't end with so much collective suck confined to such a small space makes me believe the Mayans were wrong about 2012.

Cee Lo Green's song "Fuck You" is pretty good, but this is network television so he has to perform it as "Forget You". Not as good that way, as it turns out.

-Katy Perry's boobs. That is all.

-Literally. That is all she has going for her.

-Wow, the years have really taken away Johnny Depp's chiseled features. Oh wait...that's Douchebag Emeritus John Meyer. Never mind.

-Every time Lady Antebellum wins an award, the soul of a baby descends into Hell.

-Rihanna performs with Eminem and Dr. Dre. Chris Brown is disappointed that the threat of violence against her is merely implied.

-Esperanza Spalding wins Best New Artist. Allow me to not be the first to ask "WHO?" At least that little haircunt Justin Bieber didn't win. Whenever he tries to act "street" an actual gang should be allowed to legally murder a member of his family.

-The Dead Musician Slide Show is always depressing yet educational. For instance, I didn't know until right now that the lead singer of The Knack died. And a little piece of my manufactured Gen X adolescence died with him.

-Is that Mick Jagger or a Mick Jagger muppet? So frighteningly lifelike.

-Barbara Streisand takes time off from her usual vocation - making long flowing gowns out of orphan flesh - to favor us with her awkward stage presence and unremarkable voice.

-That Black Eyed Peas guy wasn't imprisoned for his Super Bowl halftime performance? Fuck you, America!

-Eminem wins Best Rap Album. He didn't act like an ignorant punk and it kind of disappointed me. I was hoping he'd insult Taylor Swift or pick a fight with a sock puppet or something.

-I was going to write "Rihanna. I'd hit that." But that's too low even for this blog.

-I think Jennifer Lopez is married to the guy who waited on me Friday night at Havana Rumba. Good for him!

-Lady Antebellum wins again. Question of the night: If I had a time machine, would I go five years into the future when Lady Antebellum are forgotten has-beens or go back twenty-whatever years and make sure their respective parents never procreate? Decisions, decisions.

-I would like this awards show to end.

-Arcade Fire wins Album of the Year and Barbara Streisand obviously has no idea who they are. Which is better than Kris Kristofferson, who has no idea who they are, who he is, or where he left his half-gallon of cheap gin.

-PAINFUL. Good night.

Monday, February 07, 2011
The Black Eyed Peas Make the Baby Jesus Poop His Diapers
I was still living in Vegas when I first wrote of my hatred of the Black Eyed Peas, but I never in my worst nightmares thought they'd shit the bed in such a spectacular fashion. That Super Bowl halftime was the worst thing I've ever seen, ever. As the Peas raped music like they were Ben Rothlesberger and music was a boozed up co-ed, a global audience watched in abject horror. Survivors of devistating earthquakes, despot-lead ethnic cleansings, and decades of unimaginable famine turned away in disgust. Haven't those people suffered enough? We had to drop the fucking Black Eyed Peas on their humble village and the one working TV they had gathered around?

Back in America, at the party I attended, there was a collective gasp from those in their thirties as Fergie ruined their precious teenage memories by throat-fucking Sweet Child O' Mine; complete with Slash and his obvious mounting debts on lead guitar.

Why is Fergie famous? She sounds like a goat being waterboarded. And honestly, if she was a stripper at a mid-level titty bar you might throw a few bucks at her stage, mostly out of pity; and later she'd sit at your table and weepily talk about losing custody of her children until you bought her a drink made with well gin. Then when it came down to getting a lap dance you'd pick someone younger with a meth addiction in its infancy.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011
I'm Not Cool (Duh)
As a general rule, I like humor. I think, based on opinions of people I don't normally hate, that I'm supposed to like Daniel Tosh and his making-fun-of-Internet-videos-on-Tv show, Tosh.0 After all, I think Joel McHale is hilarious on Talk Soup; and who doesn't enjoy seeing some oblivious cell-talking moron walk into a mall fountain?

But strangely enough, not only do I not watch Tosh.0, I'd really like Daniel Tosh to fall off a tall building and land ass first on Milton Berhle's spectre-dick. In my opinion, the guy is a smug prick, and smug prickiness is a quality that is far too often rewarded in this society.

And yes, you really had to wait that long for this post. Sorry.