Rehearsed Crazy
MTV still exists. They still throw these massive parties where two actual superstars and everyone else stand in a giant hall trying to prove they’re completely insane. On TV it’s polished and explosive. In real life it’s screaming fans, deafening noise, and you’re squinting at the stage trying to figure out who’s performing.
Miley Cyrus showed up in what was technically a dress—basically two dead rappers positioned to keep her from getting arrested. Then she fucked some tiny guy on stage and smoked a joint because it’s Amsterdam and you’ve gotta be crazy, right? Robin Thicke grabbed whichever woman was nearest (Iggy Azalea). Katy Perry flew in, sang something, flew out. She could do that in someone’s living room.
These award shows are all just choreographed craziness. People tell you it used to be better and different, but nobody actually remembers that anymore. Hipsters in fox suits. Half-naked men. Whoever Bruno Mars is. Same faces, same energy. I couldn’t tell you who won anything—probably whoever was standing closest to a camera. The only moment that actually worked was Will Ferrell as Ron Burgundy, and I have no idea what that has to do with music or any of this.
It didn’t matter then either.