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Welcome to my utmost random thoughts on random shit that really doesn't matter much.
This is where my mind takes a dump.
~ Sticks, Stones and Funnybones ~
Part 27 - The Awards
This week's Scissors will be a report from the MTV Video Music Awards,
since there was so much to comment on.
Down Wit Da Clowns
So I watched the MTV Video Music Awards so you didn’t have to. I sat through that ordeal with a brave face and a steady heart, trying not to choke on the vomit in my clenched throat. When stupidity and mediocrity reared their ugly heads and tried to suck me into their world, I stood strong against the black wind and kept taking notes. When I experienced my brain cells jumping to certain death, out my ears, to escape having to process the clusterfuck of a show, I switched to primary spinal functions and kept taking notes.
I did it for you.
All for you.
You owe me, kids. Send money and hookers.
I can say, with a straight face, that this was by far the worst produced, most horrid and pathetically executed VMA show ever aired on TV. Actually, I think it might very well have been the worst Award show I have ever watched, period. Before we even get into the specifics. What the hell was up with the sound? This was Radio City Music Hall, people - not a barn dance in East Jesus, Idaho. It was mighty MTV producing the event – not Farmer Bob’s kid with an 8-track and a broken mike. And still it sounded like shit. The vocals were drowned in sloppily separated instruments, with the kickdrums coming through like early 80’s European club drum machine beats. The audience sound was absolutely fucked up, as the claps, oohs, aaahs and boos sounded more like a “live studio audience” track from some underground cable sit com.
Anyway…
The Awards were hosted by Jack Black – the clown with Down’s Syndrome. I could never fucking stand that guy. Maybe it’s his wide face and open mouth, or maybe just the fact that his retard-act was played out 5 years ago. Tenacious D had its moments, but they don’t constitute a career for this C list "comedian" to this day. I know, all you assholes think Jack Black is funny, but that is either because you smoke too much pot, are in college or suffer the aftermath of a recent lobotomy. There is nothing funny about this guy.
OK, so the theme of the show was how Black would bring the thunder, but, humorously, failing to do so through the malfunction of props and bits. It could have worked, as a contrast, if the show itself had been professional as all hell. Instead, Black’s purposeful fumbles, mumbles and rehearsed bloopers fell flat on their ass since the production around him was even worse. Justin Timberlake’s opening performance was sloppy, noisy and jerky. First award winner was James Blunt, and as he started giving his acceptance speech, some twangy guitar riffs started playing. While Jack Black was announcing the next announcer (because we need that) you could hear stage managers calling the next people to the stage through the intercom system bleeding into the mix. Some say it was done intentionally, but why would you mix it in at the same volume the announcer is being broadcasted in? This happened several times.
On to the actual awards. The musical theme of the night was also black: hip hop and rap. The royal seats of the Radio City Musical Hall was occupied by the Bloods, the Crips and the rest of the black mafia clowns. You could tell which ones were actual rappers, because those had fur coats, glitter top hats, gold teeth, loud jewelry and colorful attires, with mother of pearl handled Uzis stuck in their pant lines and tribal bitches clinging to their arms. I was wondering whether MTV would play “Welcome to the Jungle”, as a joke, and of course they did, when Axl Rose announced something – and it wasn’t even a joke. Nobody got it anyway. There were no royal rockers present. No Mick Jaggers, Bonos, Bon Jovis, Osbournes or Springsteens. There were some pubertal punk-poppers skating in the halls, and there was Lou Reed with the Jack White-fronted house band. Lou Reed sucks. He will die, soon probably, having sucked his whole fucking life.
But, as I said, this was a hip hop gala night. Every video that won something was either a rapper featuring some lame ass chick, or a lame ass chick featuring a rapper. It seems the two can’t exist separate from each other these days. The fact that they showed Nelly Furtado’s “Promiscuous” as a nominee, but failed to let the world audience hear anything but the featured rapper in her short clip was kinda representative for the whole stinking night. We had tons of rap performances – one golden toothed pimp after another, parading up and down the runway like it was a fashion show in the Projects. You know how we laugh at hairband fashions today? How all the poodle-haired bitches of Poison, Slaughter and Motley Crue would waltz up and down the stage back in the day – looking like they were breaking fingernails and heels, just by walking up to accept an award? Well, the rap shit of 2006 is just as pathetic. When the tenth gangsta made his entrance, with a top hat and his fur coat, it went from being amusing to sad. Nigger, please… you look da fool.
The performances gave me a skull splitting headache. I don’t know if it was the poor mix, or the quality of the music, but every song sounded “busy” - as if there were at least two other songs playing in the background at all times. I found myself popping Excedrin Migraine Extra Strength like they were Goobers and for every minute that passed I lowered the volume yet another green line.
The bands that won for best rock and such, were not really rock and such at all. More like bubblegum pop-punk and watered down new wave in fancy outfits.
The night’s worst announcement was when the guys from Jackass came in. I fucking hate Jackass. I always figured it was like WWF, somehow... You know, a show for a few retards who are either too stoned, or too fucking stupid, to not recognize how fucking pathetic it all is. The guys all rolled onto stage, drunk off their faces, and then made a mockery of whatever shit band won an award for something. That could have been funny if it was anybody but Steve-O doing the heckling. Yo, Steve-O! Don’t you have to be somewhere stapling that midget’s dick to the back of your throat? Get the fuck off the stage, you lame ass motherfucker. If I had been the band whose acceptance speech he fucked with, I would have kicked his ass all over that stage – until he cried like a girl. Then again, the band whose speech he fucked with looked like a bunch of Polack junior high school kids, with good grades, so whatever…
Christina Aguilera stole the show with her beautiful ballad, showing that she can really sing without acting the whore, and Avenged Sevenfold represented with some great metal tattoos, on this bleak ball-less night. Jack White was all right in his role as band leader for the garage outfit he fronted.
In between lousy skits and bits from Black and colleagues, we were “treated” to backstage reports and pre-recorded announcements. The one that took the cake was when Britney Spears and Fed-X announced something, while spoofing on the fact that they were bad parents. Talk about doing anything for some publicity these days? If you’re so fucking off the charts that you have to plug your lousy parental skills as a bit, then maybe you should just either retire or get an abortion and start blowing record producers left and right again to get the career back on track. Britney Spears has become a hick version of Paris Hilton. At least Paris Hilton, in all her absolute suckiness, has a single on the charts.
The night ended as it started, with some lame ass Jack Black skit and more sound problems. All in all I can honestly say that the 2006 VMAs were the worst spectacle ever put on television. It had nothing. Unless you’re black or mentally challenged. A night of clowns and Down’s.
Here are some awards they never handed out:
The Paris Hilton Vanguard Award: Britney Spears & Fed-X, for doing just about anything to stay in the spotlight – no matter how degrading.
The Peter Steele Knocking on Death’s Door Award: Lou Reed, for keeping the art of mummification alive and kicking. Was that an IV drip of formaldehyde he had behind him?
The Flavor Flave Illiteracy Award: The black guy with all the jewelry. Yeah, all of them. I have no idea what any of them said.
The Lou Reed Older Than Dirt Award: Yours Truly, for totally not getting what’s so great about monotonous rap and repetitive punk-pop. I have a feeling I should just shut up and go listen to Iron Maiden or something. I am too old for this shit. Or too smart. Probably both.
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