So, yeah, I've more or less spent the weekend in front of the TV. This was not my ideal plan, but I had a ton of work to catch up on after dealing with busted water pipes and my mom's eye surgery last week, and well, there was the promise of a hurricane and 13 hours of Shepard Smith.
I'd like to stop right here and say that if I'm ever in a hurricane situation, I'd rather be in it with Southerners than New Yorkers. Holy crap. Freak out much, Yankee folk? Sure, everyone freaks out to some extent, but some of these media types I've witnessed throughout the weekend were a bit much. Just sayin'...
Anyway, I did enjoy the 13 (that's a rough estimate) hours of Shepard Smith, but when Fox News did away with the promise of a 14th hour, I found myself in quite a stitch. How on earth am I supposed to get anything done when there is nothing on TV?
I checked out Twitter and saw that the VMAs were on MTV. Ahh, the memories. That awards show used to be the end all, be all of award shows for my young teenage and even college-age self. I mean, people would actually gather to watch that stuff. All the talented musicians of the 90's got together and put on fun performances without the stuffiness and formality of the Grammys or, at least, what the Grammys were in those days. You'd talk about it for weeks after and the video tape on which you recorded it would become worn out within a month.
Oh, yeah. Time to change the channel.
First, I should admit that aside from a few episodes of that show where those trashy kids are pregnant and angry (and that was only because I was stuck in a hotel room in Columbia, South Carolina with a TV that got about two channels), I probably haven't even actually watched MTV since I was in college. (Well, there was this one time when my little cousin got me hooked on some show where these kids got on a bus and took turns going on dates or something.) But I was ready to embark on an adventure.
I flipped over and the first thing I saw was a commercial for The Real World 817 or something like that. OK, yeah, sure, the show is probably past its prime, but I remember The Real World. I remember Puck and the AIDS guy and sexy Eric Whatshisface who did those exercise videos.
This is pretty good.
Next, I watched as the Foo Fighters won an award. OK, yeah, I like Dave Grohl. I liked him better in Nirvana, but that's neither here nor there, and they beat out Mumford and Sons in whatever category the award was for. They're newish. I like them. I'm still doing OK with this.
Then I watched as Adele got up and began to sing, and I was good with that, too, because that girl is super-talented. I only know a few of her songs, but her voice is to die for. Yep, not much has changed at the old VMAs is what I decided at that point. Better yet, no one's gonna mistake me for an AARP member.
Then I realized it was 10:00, and I had to switch the channel. I may or may not spend many a Sunday evening watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians. I may or may not have spent the week anxiously waiting to see how the whole Kris/Kim/earring/Bora Bora situation turned out.
Don't judge me.
During a commercial, I flipped back over to MTV, just in time to see
For the rest of the time, I switched back and forth between both shows and when the Kardshians were over, I went back to MTV full-time. This is when it really went downhill.
Russell Brand was there, supposedly giving some kind of tribute to the late Amy Winehouse, but because he's Russell Brand, he was mostly just saying stuff I couldn't understand and looking like a homeless person. Then, somehow, Tony Bennett appeared on stage, and I thought he was gonna sing. This is the kind of tribute to a dead person I can get behind. I'm not sure what happened next, but before I knew it, Tony Bennett was ushered from the stage and something worse than Russell Brand was taking over.
Oh, how I loathe this individual and his so-called music. "I would catch a grenade for you??" Seriously, we could have found Bin Laden a LONG, LONG time ago if Bruno Mars were just a little bit older. Just play that crap through the deserts and streets of Pakistan and anyone in hiding would come running out with their hands raised high. I'm embarrassed I even know that much of his lyrics, which are some of the dumbest lyrics I've ever heard. Really, if a guy ever told me he'd catch a grenade for me, I'd call him a dumb fuck and walk away.
Anyway, after Bruno Mars there was Katy Perry (not a fan) and after that was Lil' Wayne, who, at almost 30 years old, should not call himself "Lil" anything. He had some issues keeping his pants on and his song was so full of foul language that I was sure Hurricane Irene was back and heading straight for Atlanta at the rate the sound cut in and out. Now, I realize I sound like somebody's white grandmother with that assessment, but let me just say, I love me some rap and hip-hop. Always have. Just today, I was listening to Outkast and Busta Rhymes between Shepard Smiths. But I actually like the rap and hip-hop artists who don't rely on autotune to get through a song, which means that with the exception of a few, the current crop of so-called rappers are just kind of, well, slightly more talented than Bruno Mars. I mean, hey, some of that music is good to work out to after all.
So, that's how the show ended, and just as I'm sitting there wondering where society went so wrong, some other show came on MTV. I was in the kitchen, so I couldn't change the channel, but I saw/heard about two minutes of it while I was moving about. Holy crap! Within those two minutes, the two lead characters had used about 50 sexual references. I am not at all a prude, but it's like they were having a contest to see who could jam the most sex-related words into one sentence.
Back in the day, when we first got cable, my BFF, Melissa, and I would wait until our parents went to bed, turn our TVs to MTV with the volume down as low as possible and sit right in front of the TV to watch Beavis and Butthead. That was the cutting edge programming of our time. But at least Beavis and Butthead was funny. At least it had a point. At least it wasn't just the product of some really bad writer's attempt to subliminally attract horny teenagers and potheads for the sake of ratings. I forgot what the show was called, but it was something like, Give Me Back My Pants. And I thought that pregnant teenager show was bad.
In the end, I came to the conclusion that maybe I am too old to enjoy MTV anymore. And if that's the case, then so be it. I had a lot more fun rocking out to Star 94's "90's Weekend" on my way to get some lunch today than I did listening to any one song at the VMAs.
Seriously, I saw very little of the show as a whole, and what I did see amounted to the largest group of untalented people gathered in one place that I've seen in a long time.
And I say that just moments after watching an hour-long Kardashian special.
Next time, I think I'll DVR Shepard Smith's 13-hour hurricane commentary and re-watch it or hope like hell it's already football season.
Or maybe I can start surfing for Murder She Wrote episodes. Isn't that what the olds watch these days?