To be clear, we didn’t watch the Video Music Awards in our house the other night. But it seems a lot of you did. A whole lot. And while that undoubtedly made Ms. Miley and her Achy Breaky show-biz daddy really happy, it left us scratching our fuddyduddy heads.
We’ve given up trying to gauge America’s unlimited thirst for the sluicebox of tripe and marginal talent packaged in revealing latex and furry Teddy Bear costumes (who comes up with this, anyway?), gyrating like some coked out stripper in front of a singer whose name we can’t remember and collecting a whole bunch of page views and tweets and twerks and other things that apparently matter – to someone, somewhere.
Looking through our Magic Mirror here in the News24/680 Control Room we picture you smirking at this point and shaking your head and maybe even saying, “Oh, get over it, JD, it doesn’t really mean anything, it’s all a show.”
Well, we get that, but then we see the “morning numbers” and realize that no one was doing what we thought they would do when confronted with the visage of a “celebrity” humping a styrofoam finger and grinding against the aforementioned what’s-his-name singer. No one turned it off. In fact, we are informed, America lapped up an obvious ploy to garner press and all-important morning-after tweets in record numbers.
Okay. Your choice. It’s a free country.
Clip from HBO’s “The Newsroom.” Warning: Some Tough Language
But sweeping away our image of this celebretard’s daddy or advisors telling her to “go out there and leave them with something they’ll really remember,” and how America has apparently tilted its collective head back and accepted the Kool Aid of Crap Hollywood is dishing out, we were astonished to see what passes for the media these days licking their lips, zooming in on this chick’s unmentionables and muttering “this is really going to jumpstart our ratings tomorrow” as they demurely criticized the “CyrusSexPlosion” while making sure the nation saw nothing else for at least 24 hours.
For the record, I’ve not gone all Preacher from a Obscure Baptist Church and called out this MediocrityFest for damnation and a communal burning of all Molley Cyrus records in the town square, but I’ll say I’m worried. Our nation’s preoccupation, and acceptance, of junk like this worries me. Sorry, it just does – largely because I increasingly see this kind of behavior in public, on our streets and restaurants, and explained away with: “Hey, Mandy Cyless does it, and look how many people watched her!”
I started looking around, wondering if anyone else felt as I did, and found a marvelous send-up of this obvious and pathetic cry for attention in The Onion, with a satirical (but pretty much spot-on) explanation of why CNN embraced SexySilas and sicced their “entertainment reporters” on their VMA morning-after report.
It, and other commentary calling out this overproduced TwerkFest for what it was, made me feel a little better. But then I dialed up a late-night movie listing and saw something called “Ted” with a four-star rating pinned to it and I gave it a shot – up to the point a character in the movie is shown picking up scat left by a drugged out hooker who defiles the protagonist’s living room after partying with a horny, talking Teddy Bear named… well, you get it.
Four stars? Lawrence of Arabia-quality? Casablanca? Really? Well, it must be good. A lot of people apparently thought so…