There was a serious miscarriage of justice last night. We live in a new world that gives the impression of being based on equality and understanding. What was the Emmy’s excuse?
I’m not talking about the snooze-fest that was the show (seriously, the two-day-old decaf coffee that I’m drinking right now has more pep and interest), I’m talking about the time delay.
We here in the Pacific Time Zone live in a hand-me-down television world. By the time any special event airs on my TV, it has already gone through two different airings (you weirdoes in the Central Time Zone get your TV at the same time as the East Coasters…but you probably already know that).
Where does that leave us Californians? Cheering for someone to take home a stupid award long after they’ve won and already renegotiated every crappy contract that their prize affords them, that’s where.
Sure, some may call this a convenience. After all, I can just hop online and see who won without having to sit through the torturous tedium of the actual awards show.
But that’s the only joy of an awards show; seeing who wins as they win. That’s why we broadcast these things live. It’s certainly not because live television is the only way to see spoilt actors get creepy winged-lady statues. Plus it affords us some bragging rights. Sitting through an entire Emmy show makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something. In the days before the internet, there was a more prestige in being the only one of your friends who could manage to stay awake for the entire show. Because you would be their poor-mans version of an entertainment reporter.
But nowadays, there’s no special need to see the show…except for the fact that you get to see it happen as it happens!
But no. Not here in California. Never mind that most of the actors on the damned show live here. Never mind that the event actually takes place here. We still have to be the bastard younger step siblings of the East Coast. Taking their tired live television shows, gritting our teeth, putting them on and trying to convince all our school friends that they’re actually new.
I hate the East coast. Screw you all. Where’s my live TV?!
I think we should all be in the same time zone…Pacific Time. New York is the city that doesn’t sleep?
Well let’s see if that’s still true when it gets dark there at 3 in the afternoon.
That’s why we Californians are such new age weirdoes. We have to be. If we weren’t, then by the time we got to see ourselves on TV, we’d be out of style.
Fun Fact: I’m glad that Patricia Arquette won for her role in Medium. I actually watch that show. It’s really the most unique show on television. It's got serial killers, paranormal activity and long stretches of slice-of-life boredom all in one show! I mean, it’s got to be hard to make that show interesting every week.
Here’s a plot synopsis for every Medium episode ever produced.
Something shocking happens
Turns out it was just a dream.
Maybe there’s something to the shocking dream?
There probably isn’t.
Hubby bitches about having to take care of the kids.
Patricia Arquette promises to be a more attentive wife and mother.
Something comes up.
More visions.
Trish bugs the hell out of the DA, trying to find out what her visions might mean.
More hubby bitching.
Trish crawls into bed very late at night/early in the morning, trying not to wake hubby.
Hubby wakes up and complains about Trish’s hours and obligations.
More visions.
Even after an entire season of Trish displaying remarkable psychic prowess, hubby’s still not convinced that Trish’s visions are worth anything.
Trish and Hubby fight about their responsibilities.
The DA calls with news.
Trish teams up with sexually charged cop guy and investigates.
Her vision is important after all, but wasn’t interpreted properly.
Hubby complains about kids and Trish’s job.
Trish solves crime.
Fickle Hubby is happy for her.
Kids remain surprisingly well-adjusted.
The End.
Oh, and somewhere in there, they have creepy marital sex.
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