The MTV Video Music Awards are like Christmas to me and this year I was gifted with a cluster of crass and crack.
I can attribute my lack of enthusiasm to either the Naproxen-drip that I was under after suffering an injury while cleaning my filthy home or to that fact that the music was bad. Either way, middle-age hurts, but not as bad as watching Justin Bieber cry.
The Pre-Show: Osbourne Hating & Former Child-Star Lovin’
The disappointment commenced immediately with the pre-show. Poor Kelly Osbourne must be so busy cleaning her own toilets that she forgot to select an outfit that fit, conduct a drop of research, or find anything worthwhile to utter. Listening to Kelly sqwauck how “brilliant” every guest is tedious. Kelly, why are you still here? Can’t you, much like your bro, disappear into the wealth of oblivion that your mommy and daddy created?
The pre-show did indulge my new
favorite pastime, thinking dirty thoughts about former child stars. My pleasure started with Nick Jonas gyrating his way through “Levels” but didn’t end there. Who is this new cocktail of pretty boy and rugged handsomeness reminiscent of Brad Pitt-circa 1990? Hello Austin Butler of Zooey 101 and Vanessa Hudgens‘ boyfriend fame. Hollywood, please sprinkle a bit of his beauty into every television show or movie in 2016.
Taylor & Minaj
Nicki Minaj started the show with her usual antics of utilizing her crotch as a bongo drum, looking constipated or sexy (I can’t tell) while cooing “I know that you want it.” I actually wanted it to end until T. Swizzle popped out of Minaj’s vanilla cake of a performance and made it pure red velvet.These two buried the hatchet in a pop duo dreamed up by the best studio executives. It was touching, especially when glamazon Taylor hugged Minaj and it looked like a mother cradling her disobedient puppy.
Macklemore:Don’t Call it a Comeback
“I like where this is heading,” I think while pouring myself a drink. Then, Macklemore and his hodgepodge of cacophony and bad fashion trampled on my buzz. I see that Macklemore coerced a bunch of real rappers to perform with him for some much-needed cred, but this guy is one step away from the annoying kid in high school that was really into rap and blasphemously uncool yet energetic and liked to party. You remember that kid? Macklemore’s like the Big Bird of rap.
Oh look, there’s Jared Leto, the perverted neighbor of the
VMAs. Jared is like a cockroach, the man will never age or go away, which must be an asset to all the 20-year old starlets with whom he’s sleeping and mentoring.
“Miley, what’s good?” is the new “It’s Britney, bitch.”
Right when I start ransacking my cabinets for some Lorazepam, Nicki Minaj shimmies up to the podium to accept an award, and then looks prepared to rip Miley Cyrus’ eyelashes out in retaliation for Cyrus referring to Minaj as “not too polite” in the New York Times. It was awkward, amusing and a bad look for Minaj. But more importantly, what is good,Miley? I bet the green room’s hors d’oeuvres are amazing.
The Weeknd Saves the Evening
The Weeknd‘s “Can’t Feel my Face” revitalized the evening; this is the stuff that makes two hours of an awards show worth it. He is electrifying, sounded great and got grumpy Kayne West to smile and dance.
That thrill lasted me through a few rounds of Cheez-its chased with ice cream. Now, I’m left guilty and start worrying about Demi Lovato‘s career. Remember when Demi Lovato had an ounce of integrity? Disney Queen to rehab/eating disorder survivor to neutral pop star without subtlety or substance? Demi, bring it back to the rock, this pop world is going to eat you up and spit you out.
Kayne West: Am I missing something?
I don’t know I’m fittin’ to lose after this. It don’t matter though, cuz it ain’t about me. It’s about ideas, bro. New ideas. People with ideas. People who believe in truth. And yes, as you probably could have guessed by this moment, I have decided in 2020 to run for president.”
Just when I start to ponder where my life is heading and why I make so many poor choices, bam, Kayne West lurches in to make me feel better about myself. Mr. West, seated at the head of the Kardashian table of rot and narcissism, gave the world’s worst public speech since my first wedding. Westy’s stream-of consciousness babble was as bloated as his wife’s ankles. I dig Kayne West, but enough is enough. I can’t tolerate his bid for relevance while his music is not getting any better and he’s surrounded by the most wretched people in Hollywood. Let the kids speak, bro. Indeed.
Miley Cyrus, what to say? I understand she enjoys marijuana and sex, I think most people her age do. I just wanted more from her, like a few SAT words thrown into her expletive-laden sentences. She’s more talented than her shenanigans portray. And, her hillbilly rant has expired. She, and her family, have been multi-millionaires for 23 years. I am sure that they had a fair share of corn dogs…served on Wedgewood china. I was expecting Miley to be a little more psychedelic with her drug banter, not making ridiculous sketches with Snoop Dog. Her final performance included Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips shooting a confetti filled bong out of her crotch. That’s cool; I just wish they’d sounded better.
Wait, there’s more: Justin Bieber’s performance was solidly decent, but I have no idea why he started sobbing after praying. He looked unstable, but much like Nicky Minaj, I have no heart, so I may not be the best judge.