The writer's strike has claimed most of the worthwhile programming on television, including Crabbie's personal favorite Heroes, and now it has reportedly caused the cancellation of this year's Golden Globes. But it's actually worse than just the telecast being flushed - the ceremony itself will not be held at all, and even the parties have been canned (oh the humanity). The awards will reportedly be given out during an hour-long news conference on Sunday night, to be telecast by NBC.
Imagine, an awards presentation that lasts an hour, and features no stars and no red carpet stuff, no forced banter, no clips packages or interminable lifetime tributes to old washed-up farts.
Dang - why can't the writers strike every year?
Oh, I know, as a gossip blogger I'm supposed to be bummed about not having the Golden Globes to write about. But I'm not bummed. Because, the truth of the matter is, I hate awards shows. Hate them with a passion so intense it actually makes my bowels feel like they're on fire.
All right, maybe that's something I should have checked out by a doctor. Come to think of it, I haven't been to see my proctologist lately. I used to go once a month but then he stopped showing up at his office, and when I left the dead rabbit boiling on his stove he changed the locks on me the son of a bitch...
What was I talking about? Oh, the Golden Globes. Fuck the Golden Globes. And fuck the Oscars too. I'm happy none of that shit's going to be on. Mostly I'm happy because, with no red carpets, I won't have to listen to Keira Knightley bitch about how much she hates them. Oh, poor Keira, someone made her stand around in an expensive dress for fifteen minutes having her picture taken. How does she find the strength to carry on?
(source)
