OK, so I watched the Daytime Emmys last night. They were largely forgettable, thanks in part to the anemic hosting abilities of Wayne Brady, who seems to think that we care that he is not white (and not Bob Barker). This is the second time I’ve seen this guy host a show, maybe the fourth time I’ve ever seen him at all (I did watch his morning talk show a couple of times when he had guests in whom I was marginally interested), and the 65,000th time I’ve heard him refer to the color of skin. Enough already.
But even his lackluster appeal paled in comparison to that of the awards winners. I can’t remember much of anything anyone said, except for one young tramp with tits a-gogo, wearing a dress with a slit that almost dared to bare hers, who, as she teetered her way across the stage in heels that she wasn’t equipped to handle and tried to keep her dress from exposing the reasons why she was probably hired in the first place, said, “Oh my god, my SLIT!”
She was outdone, however, by 16-year-old boy actor Shia LaBeouf, who as an award presenter embarrassed himself — and, worse, me — by trying way too hard to come off as funny, charming, endearing, and just all around adorable and loveable. The next Matthew Perry you’re not, young Master LaBeouf. Unless, of course, you count the countless trips to rehab that no doubt you’ll enjoy by the time you’re actually old enough to drink. Plenty of disappointment awaits you, son, when you realize that you are not on the Perry path, but the Macaulay Culkin one. But worse, still, because at least “Mac” used to be somewhat cute.
This Shia brat not only presented an award, but later won one, for his stellar acting work on some Disney series called “Even Stevens”. When his name was announced, he took full advantage of the opportunity to prove to anyone watching (or even just listening) that the members of “the Academy” are clearly on the brink of dementia, by leaping onto the stage with the most repulsively staged excitement and studiedly enthusiastic disbelief I have ever witnessed in all my years observing this special brand of tripe.
“I have to thank,” he started, feigning a frustrated yet oh so adorable lapse of memory due to the thrill of receiving an award, “I have to thank … my MOM! My MOM! Oh my god, my MOM! And!!! And … [insert the names of other people, all barked out quickly as, one by one, Shia “remembered” their names] … !!! … and ohmygod!!!” Add to this some general fake flailing and staggering, and a carefully calibrated voice quavering that threatened to evolve into full-fledged crying on cue …
Thankfully the audience didn’t seem as taken by his display as he no doubt wanted it to be. Too bad “the Academy” couldn’t change its mind on the spot and snatch the award from this disgusting faker’s hand based on that hideously contrived attempt at a performance.
It’s a wonder any of them can keep their day jobs.
Fade to black. (The color of Wayne Brady!!!)