Emmy absurdity prompts questions

The 59th Primetime Emmy Awards aired last Sunday on FOX. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have watched them, but I am recently married, and critical decisions, including the television shows we watch, are no longer up to me. My wife was very excited about them for some unknown reason, so at 8 p.m., with nothing better to do, I settled down for my guaranteed three hours of boredom.

Over the course of the show, I developed some beef with the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences. First of all, why pick Ryan Seacrest to host? Couldn't they have found somebody better, like, say, Stephen Colbert? Don't we all get enough of Seacrest from American Idol? And if not, you can always tune into his weekly top 40 countdown. I've gotten to the point where I uncontrollably vomit whenever I see his stupid blonde hair.

That would have made for a very unpleasant experience for me if he had actually hosted the show, but I can count only three times when he was actually on screen. During two of his appearances he was babbling about the carpet being made out of bottles or some other nonsense, and on the third he was wearing a medieval idiot costume (which actually suited him quite well).

During the periods in which I was avoiding Mr. Seacrest, I contemplated the origin of the name, "The Emmy Awards." Who is Emmy, anyway? Is that the name of the angelic female whose likeness appears on all the awards? Or is it the name of Oscar's two-cent mistress? The world may never know.

About an hour into the show came everyone's favorite part: the annual address by the chairman and CEO of the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences, Dick Askin. Oh wait, no, I hate that part, even more than I hate Ryan's hair. Let's take this awfully boring show that is in no way tied to reality and throw in an even more boring speech by some chairman of an academy that doesn't actually exist. There was a hidden treat, however: this is Dick's last year, and maybe his successor, Dick Answerin, will abolish the annual speech. Well, at least I can dream.

Over the arduous three hours of the show, I was surprised a grand total of three times. The first time was when Katherine Heigl corrected the mysterious announcer lady's pronunciation of her name. She pronounced it "hyjal" when in fact her name is pronounced "hygal." Now, I understand the importance of the hard G. Without it, gigantic just sounds like gibberish. But when you have a name that is clearly missing a few vowels, you've got to cut people a little slack.

The second surprising event was during the presentation of the award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, which Sally Field won for her role in Brothers & Sisters.

As her name was announced, the sound muted and the camera switched to a view behind the big black ball which adorned the ceiling. Technical difficulties? I think not. My wife and I determined that it was the result of the men in charge of the five-second delay trying to save the network several thousand dollars. To think, the sweet lady from Forrest Gump and Places in the Heart using dirty language! I am appalled.

By far the strangest point of the Emmy Awards was when Hugh Laurie presented an award. It went something like this: he starts speaking and then I shout, "He's British?! WTF?! And where is his cane?" So I don't get out much. Who cares? It was like Dr. Gregory House was having some bizarre out-of-body experience in which he was replaced with an able-bodied British man.

After taking a look at the big winners of that night, there were four programs that really stood out: The Sopranos, Broken Trail, Tony Bennett: An American Classic and Prime Suspect: The Final Act.

Apparently the secret to completely running the Emmys is to make a made-for-TV movie taking place in the old west starring Dame Judi Dench opposite an enterprising Italian family and featuring the songs of a great American classic. You heard it here first, folks. When Mrs. Henderson Presents The Sopranos on the Range as Sung by Tony Bennett walks away with 15 awards next year, you'll know whose idea they stole.

This leads me to another point: isn't it time that the Academy, in its infinite wisdom, updated the categories? What the hell is Outstanding Variety, Music or Comedy Special? When's the last time you were watching a comedy and you said to yourself, "Self, this program is so much like that musical special I watched last night that I think they should have to compete for the same award."

With the television we have today, doesn't it make more sense to have categories like Outstanding Medical Drama, Best Supporting Actress in a Situational Comedy Based on an Unusual Family Structure, or my personal favorite, Best Direction in a Law & Order Series? I mean, in what deluded reality should Stephen Colbert have to compete against Tony Bennett? Apparently it's in the minds of a bunch of crusty, old television critics.

Who are these critics that vote on the awards, anyway? Judging from the fact that Tony Bennett won more awards than anybody else, they must have a mean age of no less than 65. It's not that I have anything against Tony Bennett or doubt that he's a great singer...or at least was, some time long, long ago. Come on people, he just had his 80th birthday. He's lucky he's still breathing. Don't make him sing anymore. It's just cruel.

For those who didn't see his performance of "Steppin' Out" with Christina Aguilera on the show, he was basically talking, and in a rather strained voice, I might add. If it weren't for Aguilera, he would have given Britney Spears' VMA performance a run for worst performance EVER. At least he knew better than to try and dance.

Give the Outstanding Individual Performance in a Variety or Music Program award to its rightful recipient, Stephen Colbert. And let's be honest, he probably should have won Outstanding Variety, Music or Comedy Series, too. Screw you, Jon Stewart.

If you think I have a rather strong affection for Mr. Colbert, it's true, I do. Anybody that could make me watch a show about the news deserves an award. But he's not going to escape my criticism either. I didn't see a single Wriststrong bracelet on his wrist or anyone else's. Poor form, Colbert, poor form.

In the end, I'm convinced that these award shows are kept afloat by fashion designers seeking to advertise their clothing and the tabloids anxious to print yet another "Best and Worst Dressed of the (insert awards show here)" magazine. After all, you may hear about the awards that different shows won for a few weeks, but I just know I'm going to hear about Vanessa Williams's abysmal feather dress for months to come.