Tag Archives: television

That Dog Doesn’t Bite: Super Bowl XXXIX

He said grass. And hell.McCartney. Half-time show.

That’s all that needs to be said. People immediately know what is being discussed. Which is, in some ways, disturbing. Why is it that there is a nigh-on universal recognition of a game being played by a bunch of people who are otherwise undifferentiated (outside of their speed, bulk, dexterity, or other functions) for most of the year? Why do we watch? The train-wreck phenomenon?

Much of the commentary about the half-time show is probably going to be centered on the fact that having Sir Paul play is the “safe” route. Although this is contextual. Back in the day, The Beatles would have as controversial as Janet’s bejeweled breast. That would have been during, say, Super Bowl I. Presumably, however, there are those who want to “protect” us who are parsing the lyrics of “Get Back,” which will bring the wrath of Whomever down on the head of McCartney, no doubt.

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Crunk in Public: The 2004 MTV Video Music Awards

What do these guys have to do with 2004 music videos?Apparently New York City isn’t big enough for both MTV and the RNC. Ceding Manhattan to the invading army of potato-headed donkey punchers, the network moved its annual Video Music Awards promotional event to Miami’s American Airlines Arena. The move made sense logistically, even if the Page Six stories of hotel bar meetings between, say, Petey Pablo and Senator Sam Brownback would’ve been hilarious. But it was also a reminder of how far south the popular music axis has shifted. Crunk dominated this year’s VMAs from the window to the wall, Outkast continued to clean up (deservedly) for Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, and rock music was viewed only as a nuisance, represented by performances from a few tepid middlers, but best consumed in condensed form. See KRAVITZ, Lenny.

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The 2003 MTV Movie Awards

Kirsten Dunst's cleavage.Los Angeles’ Shrine Auditorium is a 6,000+ capacity facility, but you wouldn’t know it from watching the 2003 MTV Movie Awards, held May 31st but only aired by the network last night. The event took place in a vacuum, seeming only to exist inside a right triangle stretching from the top of its elaborate superhero stage, to the back of a 6-deep bay of tables, and across the inevitable commoners’ moat back to stage front. Inside this triangle was the cream of young Hollywood, co-mingling with some music types looking to cross over – Puffy, Pink, and Queen Latifah, who already made the leap. As each “winner” made the short walk from his/her dinner table, through the clawing, outstretched hands of the disease-ridden peasants, and onto the chintzy stage, it seemed as if no one else was in the room besides Stifler, Justin, Kirsten Dunst, and aforementioned Mr. Diddy-bop. A talent show for all the neighborhood kids, thrown by the family with the biggest garage. The bling in this burg might’ve been a bit brighter, but the winners were still walking away with a meaningless piece of plastic. As it turned out, that wasn’t the only cheap thrill of the evening.

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