TO BE JUST SO POPULARLY GREAT
by Bryce Martin


Three things I just do not get: Garth Brooks, NASCAR, and pay per-view wrestling.

Now I can add another: awards shows. To be more specific, I should say televised awards shows.

Take music awards shows, please, any of them. You have people who, during the course of the year, had recordings that gained fame for those doing the recordings, adulation from fans, money, and all the big ticket add-ons. Are they not giving us all the pleasure we can stand? It seems not. After all that, they want to get together in some huge auditorium setting and pat each other on the back all evening for our viewing pleasure.

Not mine, thank you.

They are playing Big Shot.

It is not enough that these prima donnas get all the glory. They have to rub it in our faces, too.

Not mine, thank you.

I cannot imagine why anyone would watch such blatant pandering. Even worse, the same people who are labeled �artists,� are proving just the opposite by even taking part.

I have no problems with any of the entertainment groups having a private get-together to honor their own. I would encourage it. When it becomes a made-for-the-public event, it becomes forced and strained. The television awards shows are reduced to a party of self-centered swells back slapping each other into the night. At home in our living rooms we are reduced to fawning servility.

The whole shebang gives diarrhea a new egress.

How thrilling it is to watch them high-arm the trophies and thank the lesserlights for aiding their rise to fame and glory.

There amounts to a glut of these shows. The networks choose the participants for the shows, not the industry being honored. They are told what to wear, where to stand, what to sing, how long to sing it, when to clear out and go home.

The country music genre is toned down to where it is just a shadow of its true being. To appeal to the largest number of viewers, the networks take as much country as possible out of the country.

So much for honoring your own your own way.