I watched the County Music Awards on TV last week. Televised award shows are a big deal in the USA. We love to honor our popular performers, be they actors, singers, movie stars or television journalists. We are especially happy when someone we like wins. But then, we can get entirely too pissed off if the opposite happens. And the awards themselves? There’s a wide variety, always in some form of a statuary mantle piece, whether crystal, glass, bronze, silver or gold. Any one of them in a recipient’s hands ensures adoration and success or, at the least, a picture in the next issue of People magazine
The host(s) of these extravaganzas is vitally important. If the host crashes and burns in the first five minutes thousands of viewers may change the channel faster than a James Bond car chase. On the other hand, if the host is especially good, then he or she or them have a lock on many award shows to come. The ones you expect to be the best are usually the worst and vice-versa. Neil Patrick Harris, has become a favorite. He is building a strong reputation for being a very funny person who can also dance and sing. That, and his Broadway background, give him the perfect credentials and talent to aptly host the Tony Awards as he has and probably will again. The family name on my mother’s side is Harris. I wonder if…nah, I can’t sing and dance (but I am very funny, right? …right?)
Meanwhile we, the crazies who support all this awards stuff, sit through the endless gibberish and envelope-opening, not to mention the gazillion commercials jammed back-to-back. Near the end we find ourselves looking at how late it’s getting, more than looking at the dress the current presenter is wearing…or not wearing. Well, maybe if it’s the latter, we’ll take a look. What one wears, especially the women, will be heavily scrutinized and assessed. There will be ample supply of pictures in all the media the next day with adjoining “best or worst” captions. Exposed cleavage is a direct determinant of the number of comments made and photographs displayed.
Award shows have evolved over the years. I bet the motion pictures’ Academy Awards is one of the oldest and most-watched. It is also one of the more challenged in keeping the show compelling to watch. I find myself seeing fewer and fewer of the movies each year so I usually lose interest in the Oscars fast. If you are a young dater who sees a lot of movies, then I assume the Oscars hold your attention until the very last “I’d like to thank…”
The music award shows, on the other hand, have become quite entertaining, especially as they present more live performances of “hit” songs. In fact, there is a growing amount of time being devoted to performances, made possible because the less popular award categories are being relegated to non-televised banquet lunches and dinners.
The Grammy Awards, I think, puts on the best show of the group. It usually features the hottest songs and artists and the staging is sometimes equal to the performance. Why, last year it even rained—a downpour I tell you—right on stage while the group FUN sang. I was worried the equipment would short out and electrocute everyone on stage. It was outrageous. You don’t see that kind of stuff on the Miss America Pageant.
So, as I ramble on about these award shows, I have often thought about winning one myself. Well, come on, don’t you?? This, no doubt, would be a daunting experience. First, I’d have to knock myself out creating something incredibly different and unique; then I’d have to package it up into some kind of spectacular presentation; then I have to hope a gazillion people like it, purchase it, watch it, or vote for it. Wow, I’m not so sure I’m up to the task. And even if I were, then I’d have to write an acceptance speech. Holy crap!
There would be all these people I’d have to thank and I’d be bound to forget someone because my memory sucks anymore. That person would forever hold a grudge because I forgot to thank him/her. Then I’d feel all kinds of guilt and I would never forgive myself for being so thoughtless. I’d probably lose a lot of sleep worrying about it. Then I’d be so tired during the next day, I would fall asleep while driving and maybe even plow into a fire hydrant.
Holy crap some more! I don’t even have a tux to wear. Well, I do have a tux, but it’s a good twenty years old and my stomach is a good twenty pounds heavier. Now I’d have to go get a tux. Of course, if it’s a country gig I won for, then I’d only have to get the jacket because all those guys wear jeans no matter how formal the occasion. More crap–I don’t have any jeans that fit either. And wouldn’t you know it, my guitar isn’t tuned. It’s sitting over there in the corner behind me. I never learned how to play it so it’s never tuned. I suppose I’d have to deal with that too. How the hell could I perform in half a tux and an untuned guitar slung over my shoulder??
Maybe this was not such a good idea after all. Maybe I should just be happy being an awardless soul who goes through life as I have…undiscovered and unrecognized. Yeah, I’m good with that…as long you keep reading my blog.