The Emwhat?

h/t Irish

So, apparently there was another self-masturbatory Hollywood awards show last night, in which they dissed all of America, and specifically the president. (IOW, business as usual.)
That they simple cut to the chase, and simply award giant golden dildos, either to symbolize what they are, or what they use these awards for, was apparently considered too spot-on some good number of years past. Seeing actors and actresses clutching and waving their big golden dicks would be unseemly, almost as if you'd interviewed them with a hidden camera in private.

Which award would, of course, be nicknamed "the Johnson"

Strangely, the yapping jackholes of cultural decay can't seem to figure why TV audiences are tuning out in droves, and Hollywood had the worst summer in a decade, which is pretty phenomenal for businesses that have only been around 50 and 100 or so years, respectively. It's almost like mouthy liberal jackasses can't connect the dots between their incessant douchebag whining, and people nationwide telling them to f**k off, and voting with their feet, their wallets, and their remotes. Crazy, right? Next, they'll be baffled that rain makes you wet. (Chicken Little, call your agent.)

But Madison Avenue can read a Nielsen report, and TV advertising will be getting to bargain prices at his rate. Especially for the awards shows. The only down side to that is the "stars" will be moving into middle-class neighborhoods again, out of necessity.

Not that it's surprising, because one of the neighbor kids (and yes, an actual kid, and an actual neighbor) has an Emmy Award. I saw it, Googled it, and she earned it. So, in the grand scheme of things, an Emmy is roughly equivalent to the US military's National Defense Service Medal ribbon:

If you have a pulse rate, and are serving while the US is shooting at someone, even if you never do, you get one. Period.

It's about the same with Emmys. It's mainly a participation trophy for being on the boob tube long enough. Just ask Susan Lucci. Or my neighbor's kid.

I can't really blame the mostly college- and high school-dropout asstardian legions in Hollyweird for being antagonistic jackholes, or congratulating each other for all that generally imaginary "suffering" they do for their craft. The number of winners of any award there who have actually rendered services to the country can be accurately measured on your thumbs most years, if not your nose, and some years, even by amputees of all those body parts.

And going on about them as if it's abnormal for two-years olds to throw tantrums, or dogs to piss on fire hydrants, holds those special ed short-bus snowflakes to an impossibly high standard, one that most of them never achieve: rational adult behavior.

For about 99.68% of Hollywood, those three words are between one and three insurmountable achievements they'll never achieve nor be awarded, even by each other.

So before you get over-concerned about TV jerking itself off in public again, remember this inside-the-industry Rule of Thumb, proven every day since Philo Farnsworth inflicted the invention on an unsuspecting culture:

Theatre is life.

Film is art.

Television is furniture.

When you regularly see (need I add "award-winning"?) producers and directors in the medium sporting the exact t-shirts bearing that message, the secret is out, boys and girls.
There's a reason that, until the decadence of the 1920s, most decent folks regarded actors and actresses as circus freaks and prostitutes. The only thing that's changed in most cases is awarding them the opprobrium they deserve.

There's also a reason your TV and mine have both a channel selector, and an on/off switch.
I use them ruthlessly.

I haven't routinely watched broadcast TV as such, in over a decade.
I miss it like trees miss cold in springtime.