Hey, last night your sobsister watched
For those of you who may be unaware of the situation surrounding this broadcast, the Writers Guild strike put the kibosh on the scheduled awards show, by dint both of presenters not having "witty" "banter" to exchange before reading the nominees, and of stars boycotting the ceremony in solidarity with their pen-wielding brethren and sistren.
So, instead of the red carpet shmoozefests and the dissing of the outfits and the oohing and the aahing over Brangelina and George and Cate and Johnny and whomever else quickens our merely-mortal pulses, I got to watch Billy Bush and Nancy O'Dell of Access Hollywood read the nominees and winners.
Did you know Nancy O'Dell was Miss South Carolina in 1987?! And did you know that Billy Bush, first cousin to Our Globe-Trotting, Peace-Bringing President, was once called "the most annoying man in show business" by Billy Crystal, himself no mean connoisseur of the annoying?!
Yeah, that's all I've got on the "exciting" side of the ledger.
On the "wretched" side, however, I have the on-screen sight for an entire hour of Nancy O'Dell's face seemingly sealed in some kind of NASA-grade epoxy or lacquer. Not only does she have no wrinkles, but she is reported to be able to survive re-entry temperatures up to 1510 °C. I also have the on-screen sight of Billy Bush, who looks and sounds a little like Conan O'Brien's slowish cousin, opining. Opining on who should've won and who shouldn't've won and why. Here's a short list of lodestars I do not care to follow: Billy Bush's taste. Also, on this selfsame "wretched" side of the ledger, I have the televisual experience of two people not particularly known for their wit, charisma, or charm being the only moving objects on my television screen.
Now, I can hear some of you asking, "Hey, sobsister (if that's your real name), why din'tcha just change the frackin' channel, ya big crybaby?!" What, and face Entertainment News Industry Standard™ Mary Hart, herself a former Miss South Dakota, announcing the winners with a voice reported to cause seizures in epileptics and getting her perky on with a force that could bleach muslin at twenty paces? I don't think so. No, I don't think so at all.
So, on it staggered for an hour in objective time. Watching these mannequins read the Golden Globe nominees and winners was a bit like drinking soup through a winter coat. Or perhaps like reading erotic fiction in semaphore. Or maybe like warming one's hands by a photo of a fireplace. At any rate, not an experience I'm eager to try again. Plus, soon-to-be-nonagenarian Ernest Borgnine did not win an award for his performance in The Hallmark Channel production of A Grandpa for Christmas, so you know the fix was in.