"...And What's All This 'And The Award Goes To' Crap?....I'm A Winner, Baby, A Winner!..."

Today's fun riddle.

 

What fades faster than the colors in that silk screened T shirt they assured you was colorfast?

 

Stand by.

 

Meanwhile, a nice piece, re' the Golden Globes written by Gene Seymour.

 

Editor's note: Gene Seymour is a film critic who has written about music, movies and culture for The New York Times, Newsday, Entertainment Weekly and The Washington Post.

 

(CNN) -- So what did we learn at Sunday night's Golden Globe Awards? First off, we learned that sketch comedians are so much better at giving acceptance speeches than rock stars, screenwriters and actors who've won Oscars and Emmys for dramatic roles. "Who knew?" as Andy Samberg put it when he delivered one of the evening's most compact acceptances, for best lead actor in a TV comedy or musical in Fox's "Brooklyn Nine-Nine" (a surprise winner for best comedy series, by the way.)

We also learned that actresses say the darnedest things on TV when they're drinking a lot. (What was that Cate Blanchett said about Judy Garland and barbiturates when she got the Globe for best actress in a drama in "Blue Jasmine"?)

 

One trusts that the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, which sponsors the awards, has also learned that when you nominate somebody four times for a Golden Globe over four decades without giving her one, you'd better be prepared for retributive pain when you finally come through. Though I have to admit that as the ceremonies trudged along, part of me was hoping Jacqueline Bissett, who finally won a Globe for best supporting actress in a TV movie, miniseries or series as a lonely dowager in "Dancing on the Edge," would get called back for more ragged stream-of-consciousness and disregard for decorum.

 

The authenticity of her speech, which included a bleeped expletive, somehow burst through the ceremony's glitz -- and, at 69, she still made for a gorgeous-looking train wreck.

 

But did we learn for sure who's going to win the Academy Awards on March 2? Not really.

 

It's true that Blanchett came away as big a favorite in her category as she was before the pipes burst earlier that night, flooding the red carpet. But nothing short of a tsunami will stop her appointment with the best actress Oscar for her rendering of a shattered socialite.

The rest are not so clear. "12 Years a Slave" won the best drama Globe, matching most advance expectations. But it didn't win as many Globes as the best comedy or musical winner, "American Hustle." Both Amy Adams' win for best actress in a comedy or musical (which was mildly unexpected) and Jennifer Lawrence's win for best supporting actress (which wasn't) seemed to boost "Hustle's" profile in the Oscar race. But both "Hustle's" director, David O. Russell, and "Slave's" director, Steve McQueen, lost the best director race to Alfonso Cuaron for his orchestration of the harrowing "Gravity."

 

Let's face facts: Though some insist on seeing the Globes as an Oscar tip sheet, you can't easily align awards that split their categories between comedy and drama with those that don't. Period.

 

There have been some years where a Globe drama winner gets the best picture Oscar (2001's "A Beautiful Mind") and the comedy-musical winner doesn't ("Moulin Rouge!"). Then there are those years when the opposite is true. (1998, when "Shakespeare in Love" won best picture while "Saving Private Ryan" didn't). And then, too, there are those years when neither of the Globe winners is in the best picture winner at the Oscars (1992, when "The Silence of the Lambs" bested both "Bugsy" and "Beauty and the Beast," and 1993, when both "Scent of a Woman" and "The Player" lost to "Unforgiven," and 1991, when ... and we could go on and on ...).

 

So as usual, we're left at the end of another Golden Globes show wondering, what exactly was the point? That is, besides the comedy factor, both intended (hosts Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, who didn't have nearly as much to do this year as last) and unintended.

 

Maybe it's best to look at the Globes less as tea leaves or portents for future awards and more as shiny paper for the global village to unwrap every January as the true beginning of Hollywood's ritual of self-congratulation.

 

The various film critics awards are (for the most part, anyway) more measured and thoughtful signals as to what will be taken seriously between holiday openings and Oscar night. But the Globes are when the moms, mall rats and reality-show audiences begin noticing what the more serious and solemn movies are doing with themselves as their makers and actors campaign for support from the Academy voters.

 

You can downgrade their importance or dismiss their results as much as you like. But the Golden Globes are, like it or not, an Occasion-with-a-capital-O, much like weddings, Thanksgiving and other rituals that often provoke sentiment and warmth -- and slavishness and inappropriate behavior. So wait for the trade awards to get their results out and hope that whomever's in charge of these awards doesn't take anything Bissett says too seriously.

 

 

Comedy, schmomedy.

 

You want funny?

 

How about human nature?

 

Human nature that comes in the form of the paradox that is (are?) the annual awards shows.

 

Ask anyone you encounter today to be cross their heart honest as they tell you if they really give a flyin' farkus about who wins or "all the people who made this possible" when they do win.

 

Cross the heart honesty will, with rare exception, come in the form of "pshh-no".

 

Pretty much everyone (excepting those who still can't understand why the Kardashians haven't yet won a Peabody) recognize

 

(to the tune of "Surrey With The Fringe On Top)

 

 the Globes and the SAG's and the Oscars and the Emmys

 the CMA's, the ACM's, the People's Choice and Grammies

 

as, for the most part, little more than opulent, dare we say decadent, spectacles of self congratulations having very little to actually do with any real accomplishment beyond the winning of the award in an opulent and decadent spectacle of self congratulations.

 

And pretty much everyone (excepting those who still can't understand why Kanye West hasn't yet been nominated for a Pulitzer) wouldn't miss any, or all, of them were they to vanish and be replaced on their respective broadcast nights by an "encore presentation" of the "Save Benson" trilogy on Law and Order SVU.

 

Even those who religiously watch said award shows, tweet and FB frequently and furiously as they are going down (or being offered up, depending on your glass half full predilections) and cop to the one size fits all argument that, whatever else they are or aren't, the awards shows are, if nothing else, a few hours of mindless entertainment doing no one no harm.

 

Double negatives notwithstanding.

 

Simply put, most people couldn't care less.

 

The paradox, though?

 

Ah, the paradox.

 

Human nature, at it's witty best, illustrating very clearly that all of us, yes, Griselda, all of us who think the awards shows and, by association, the awards themselves, are trite, trivial vanity exercises to which we give no more weight or life importance than we give, well, the awards shows and, by association, the awards themselves delay less than a nano-second in delivering the good news to family, friends and peers when we are chosen for any honor bestowed upon us by any one for any thing at any time.

 

Everything, and anything, from Employee of the Month to Miss Topeka Suburbs Potting Soil Princess.

 

And all accolades in between.

 

Yeah, there's a little double standard thing that comes to mind. 

 

Yet, it's really okay.

 

At least in the opinion of this humble, multiple ADDY award, Georgia Association of Broadcasters Award winning, Grammy nominated songwriter and number one rated broadcaster.  

 

Because it's not about praise.

 

It's about perspective.

 

Which brings us back to the original fun riddle.

 

What fades faster than the colors in that silk screened T shirt they assured you was colorfast?

 

Our memory of who won what award at which most recent of that particular award's award show.

 

While, at the same time, possessed of a memory of our own accomplishment that would put flypaper to shame.

 

Pop quiz.

 

And, please, honor system, do it without the Google.

 

Name any three of last year's Oscar winners.

 

SOUND OF BUZZER

 

Oh, sorry, time's up.

 

Now, name any award or accolade that you received when you were in grade school.

 

We have a winner.

 

And we're happy to be some of the people who made it all possible.

"...This Is Not What David Crosby Had In Mind When He Sang "Letting Your Freak Flag Fly"...."

Old saying.

Crazy like a fox.

But that ain't all.

More on that shortly.

First, check out this article from USA Today music writer and Facebook friend Brian Mansfield.


The problem with Miley Cyrus isn't that she has broken bad. It's that she's so confusing. One day, she's sexualizing herself without actually being sexy, putting her hair up in double buns like a baby devil's stubby horns and sticking her tongue out like a cartoon-character Calvin making faces at his stuffed tiger. The next, it seems, she's singing Wrecking Ball, a devastating piece of heartbreak pop that ranks among the year's very finest singles.

If she's trying to show how grown up she is by how lewdly she can act, she's not doing a very good job of it. At the same time, conventional wisdom suggests that rubbing foam fingers in places foam fingers ought not go doesn't help her credibility as a singer of serious fare like Wrecking Ball.

Perhaps, as proposed by Elton John — who, like Cyrus, played this weekend's iHeartRadio Music Festival in Las Vegas — she's a "meltdown waiting to happen." Frankly, it's hard to tell.

What's great about Miley Cyrus, though, is that she's so funny. She has a weird and finely tuned sense of humor, which she displayed Saturday during two performances at the festival, particularly her afternoon set at the Music Festival Village.

Dressed in a white hot-pants suit with laces that went flying every time she swiveled her hips toward the audience, Cyrus performed We Can't Stop and Party in the U.S.A. while surrounded by dancers wearing inflatable mushrooms and rainbows, as well as twerking little people. The colorfully absurd stage looked like a cross between a Super Mario Bros. video game and a demented early-'70s children's television show.

With all Cyrus' activity the past few weeks — her performance at the MTV Video Music Awards, appearing naked in her Wrecking Ball video, breaking up with Liam Hensworth — she's shown an uncanny ability to astonish. But Cyrus could hardly have come up with anything more flat-out flabbergasting Saturday than one of her song choices — Look What They've Done to My Song, Ma.

Written by Melanie Safka of Brand New Key fame, Look What They've Done to My Song, Ma was a modest hit in 1970 for the New Seekers (and, later, a Quaker Oats jingle). Though it was a fairly common song in the '70s, covered by Ray Charles, country singer Billie Joe Spears and others, it was never a particularly big hit. It's certainly not the sort of song anyone would expect a 20-year-old like Cyrus to know.

It's lyrics, though, are particularly relevant to someone who finds herself besieged by the media at exactly the time she's presenting the music she hopes will define her as a young adult artist:

Look what they've done to my brain, Ma
Look what they've done to my brain
Yeah, they picked it like a chicken bone, and they think I'm half insane, Ma
Look what they've done to my brain

Cyrus' performance was a bizarre, funny pop-culture moment, for sure, but it also showed the singer revealing herself to critics of an older generation by using one of their own songs, a markedly mature move for a young woman who seldom receives the benefit of that doubt.

And then there was Wrecking Ball. Cyrus performed the song in front of a concert audience for the first time Saturday afternoon, and then again that night. The afternoon performance moved her to tears. When she finished singing, she had mascara running down her face.

The weird thing about Wrecking Ball is that all the nuttiness of Cyrus' public persona doesn't diminish the song. If anything, the controversy, the bizarre faces, the fear for her mental stability, whatever you want to call it, actually enhances the emotional impact of her performance — the same way country singers often use a cornball novelty to set up a real heartbreaker.

It's entirely possible that Cyrus' recent bizarre antics are all a set-up. Yes, it's a way to create attention, but not solely for attention's sake. Cyrus may have a longer game in mind.

Think of Cyrus as a cute, young, female Andy Kaufman type, and the confusing pieces of her recent behavior start to make sense. Despite all his other issues, the late comedian understood how to generate heat by turning people against him, a principle he learned from watching professional wrestlers.

And, really, how surprised would anyone be to see Cyrus show up some week on WWE's Monday Night Raw? All her post-VMAs talk about being "messed up" or "an adult acting like a kid" has the feel of a cerebral wrestling villain cutting promos. She's turning "heel."

Why in the world would she do that? Any wrestler can tell you that the more people hate you as a heel, the more they love you when you become a "face," or a good guy, again. Come to think of it, Madonna could probably tell you a thing or two about that, as well. If Cyrus is stringing her haters along Kaufman-style, it's a brilliant, well-played joke.

Don't want to give Cyrus credit for being that smart? Fine. Maybe she hasn't consciously set her course. Just remember, though: All her life she's had the example and advice of a father who was a one-hit-wonder country singer and also was smarter than a lot of people thought he was. He may not approve of every creative choice she makes, but he's there to give her guidance and support whenever she wants it.

Besides, anybody who has the good sense to cut Wrecking Ball and the ability to deliver it like Cyrus does can't be that stupid



As always, Brian provides thoughtful and insightful observation.

And, in this case, in my humble o, toes right up to, but never steps over, the X that marks the spot where one becomes an apologist for Miley's somewhat dull bladed hacking attempt to be considered cutting edge.

I can't help, though, but be drawn back, each time I read more, and/or another interpretation, of all things Cyrus, to the list of those who have come, even, in their own way, twerked, their way into, if not our hearts then certainly the history of those whose "outrageous" behavior marked, at the time, the end of civilization as we knew it and, eventually, became announcements of the "new era" packaged in the very envelopes said pioneers were pushing.

Little Richard.

Elvis.

The Stones.

(Chronologically, and seemingly, that entry should have been The Beatles, but their suspected decadent "mop topped yeah, yeah, yeah-ing" was pretty much blown out of number one on the Sodom and Gomorrah charts, just a few short months later by the back alley, soon to be Satanic, gyrations of Mick and company.)

Madonna.

Gaga.

And now.....

Nope, sorry.

Can't bring myself to do it.

Even though Miley, pretty transparently and obviously, wants to be the next name on that list.

The word "obviously" used in the spirit of, for example, "when he wielded the sledge hammer and smashed the living shit out of that living room, he was obviously upset that his wife insisted that he stop watching so much football."

And while all of this, every wrecking ball shattered shard of minutiae having to do with any and all things Miley, is, at the core, nothing more than a matter of personal opinion and/or taste, I'm also synaptically incapable of resisting the temptation to pick at least one nit as regards Brian's P.O.V.

Andy Kaufman?

Shu-yeah.

Right.

Andrew Dice Clay, maybe.

But, you say potato, I say are you fucking kidding me aside, here's a thing.

Little Destiny Hope Cyrus is a genuinely talented kid.

Check out You Tube and look for something called The Backyard Sessions.

The girl got some homespun game.

And with a little more luck, a little genuine hard work and a whole lot of rebooting could very possibly become an important contributor to the pop history books.

Meanwhile, though, she seems to be caught up in this Star Trekish space/time causality loop that keeps her scurrying ever faster around and around the hamster wheel of more and bigger tattoos, boob shots, ass flashes, tongue wavings and "hey, look at how outrageous I'm being as I desperately work to make you think that I'm outrageous" pawing in the quest of pushing the aforementioned envelope.

While professional observers, like Brian, and myself, for that matter, spend time taking it apart, looking at it and then offering up well intended pocket change in the amount of two cents about what it all means.

Seven and eight year olds who watch Hannah Montana re-runs and like the groove of "Wrecking Ball" think Miley is the bomb.

And the vast majority of those over the age of eight spend whatever time they spend bothering to consider the kid, at all, do so with an affectionate rolling of the eyes.

There really is some quality stuff lurking in the middle of all that falderal.

But genuine outrageousness is a lot like genuine comedy.

The comic actor knows that it's light years funnier when you act like you don't know its funny.

Miley, dumb, smart or crazy like a fox, still doesn't seem to grasp, and apparently has no one around willing to tell truth to power, that she's turned her presentation into little more than a freak show.

And if perception is reality, then presentation results in perception.

And presentation is paramount.

Think KFC.

The only difference between respected, popular acceptance and freak show is the manner in which the chickens get slaughtered.

Crazy like a fox?

Maybe.

But the fox isn't known for its subtlety when it comes to dispatching the chickens.

"...Here In The Real World...."

Pregnancy in the celebrity news today.

Hang on.

Don't start tweeting and Facebooking just yet.

Read.



(CNN) -- Country superstar Alan Jackson is famous alright, but that didn't help his 20-year-old daughter, Alexandra, when she was arrested on Wednesday.

According to Metro Nashville Police, Alexandra was charged with assault, underage consumption of alcohol, and resisting arrest during a traffic stop. The 20-year-old was riding shotgun in a Range Rover that a police officer observed was speeding, and when the officer pulled the car over, it was discovered that Alexandra "had consumed a large amount of alcohol."

 

Police say Alexandra became "visibly irate" while the officer spoke with the driver of the vehicle, and began making demands as she got out of the car.

 

The officer requested that she return to the vehicle, but according to police that only angered Alexandra more. After being threatened with the possibility of being arrested if she didn't get back inside the car, Alexandra struck the officer in his chest.

 

When police tried to arrest her and take her into custody, she put up enough of a fight to require the officer to call for backup. Alexandra eventually complied with the arrest, but police say that while she was being booked she "made several statements to the arresting officer" that her dad Alan Jackson "would do anything" she wanted him to do.

 

Police then warned Alexandra about making or attempting to bribe an officer. She's next due in court on September 23.

 

As of now, Alan Jackson's reps have no comment.

 

 

 

The comments from the peanut gallery in assorted news sites where this story appears run along predictable lines.

 

Some people think that if her father was local plumber Alan Jackson we wouldn't be reading and hearing about this little episode.

 

Probably not.

 

Local plumbers don't often get nearly the press the country singers do.

 

More's the pity, if you ask me, given that they often make about the same amount of money.

 

Some people are filled with "predictions" of how the Jackson family will handle this, ranging from "oh, it's just a stupid kid thing that will blow over" to "her daddy will dress her down in public and teach her a lesson she'll never forget".

 

Personally, I fall on the side of who the hell knows?

 

And, in the bigger picture, who the hell cares?

 

That said, we all know that the answer to the first question is "we don't know, until we do, if we ever do".

 

And the answer to the second question is "pretty much everybody".

 

Because this isn't a story about the drunken misbehavior of the kid of a local plumber, but the story of drunken misbehavior of the kid of a rich, country singing star.

 

Celebrity stuff.

 

And when it comes to celebrity stuff, especially the salacious type, just as with butter cream frosting, we can never, ever get enough.

 

Which, though, isn't at all the point of why I'm writing, and you're reading, this piece.

 

Here, at long last, is the point.

 

It seems to be a life truth that you get what you pay for.

 

And it also seems to be a life truth that you must "be careful what you ask for, because you're just liable to get it."

 

That includes celebrity.

 

Alan Jackson struggled for a while in the quest to become famous.

 

He succeeded.

 

It's what he wanted, what he dreamed of, what he hoped to achieve in his life.

 

Again, succeeded.

 

Very often, in situations like this, someone, somewhere, be it actual family or loyal representatives of same, ask, in one public way or another, for "privacy as we deal with this family matter."

 

That, obviously, ain't gonna happen.

 

But, here's a thing.

 

It's nobody's fault that it ain't gonna happen, but there is a reason.

 

A good reason.

 

Celebrity.

 

Fame.

 

Spotlight.

 

All achieved after hopes, dreams and struggles paid off.

 

And the thing about spotlights is that they are, of the things inside their circle, incapable of distinguishing those which should be illuminated from those that should not.

 

Rising tide lifts all boats.

 

Spotlight lights up whatever it shines on.

 

None of this is by way of advocating that every little piece of every little moment of the lives of famous people should be exposed, laid bare, exploited, pick your tabloid goal.

 

But asking for, let alone expecting, privacy when something happens along like Alexandra Jane getting faced and poking the police is, at some level, asking for, even expecting, to have it both ways.

 

Nobody gets to have it both ways.

 

Not even rich, famous people.

 

The celebrity spotlight, unlike its real life draw your attention to the latest shopping center opening counterpart, does not have a working on/off switch.

 

When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way.

 

And when you're famous, you, and yours, live in the limelight.

 

Okay, now, a dash of perspective.

 

The kid didn't leak national secrets to Wikipedia.

 

She didn't sext pictures of herself to a boyfriend while running for mayor of New York.

 

And she most certainly didn't do anything even remotely resembling twerking with teddy bears.

 

God love her and bless her for that, by the way.

 

Alexandra Jane Jackson is simply the latest in a long, long line of celebrity offspring who have suddenly discovered that it might be okay to dance like there's nobody watchin' but you gotta be aware that somebody just might be watchin'.

 

And dance accordingly.

 

Or prepare to be blinded by the light.

 

Because, much as those who struggled to move from blissful obscurity to world wide fame would like to believe, there, at least so far, is no such thing as a part time limelight.

 

It's like being a little bit pregnant.

 

Tweet that.

 

 

" Edgy and Skanky.....Talk About Your Blurred Lines....."

Enough is enough.

Comes a time when further Miley bashing is overkill.

So, this will be the last word, from here, at least, on it.

Here's what I suspect Miley thought she looked like to the masses.








When, in fact, here's what she actually looked like.
(Scroll down)

 

Enough already.



"And Speaking of Tongues, Gene Simmons, Come Home...All Is Forgiven...."

At this point, obviously, she "can't be tamed".

 

Tranquilizer darts are probably not practical.

 

And euthanasia is probably a little extreme.

 

Unless we self inflict so as to put ourselves out of any misery resulting from further "artistry".

 

Still, I can't shake the notion that most of us are missing a key point in all of this.

 

 

 

Editor's note: Kelly Wallace is CNN's digital correspondent and editor-at-large covering family, career and life. She's a mom of two girls and lives in Manhattan. Read her other columns and follow her reports at CNN Parents and on Twitter.

(CNN) -- My list of reasons why I'm glad my girls, ages 5 and 7, were too young to ever get into "Hannah Montana" grew exponentially longer after Miley Cyrus' unforgettable "twerking" in a bra and undies at MTV's Video Music Awards.

"Miley, what exactly were you thinking?" pretty much sums up the sentiment I heard from outraged moms and dads around the country who believe Cyrus, whose loyal fan base includes a huge chunk not yet old enough to drive, should know better.

 

"It's a damn shame that Miley is doing this to herself, making a vulgar joke out of her talents and her beauty, but it's a much bigger shame that she's doing it to her young fans and other young people (who) see her in the media," said Heidi Cardenas, a mom of two teenage boys, in response to a request for comment on CNN's Facebook page.

 

"It's the same thing as going to any street corner in America and selling herself for money," said Cardenas.

 

"I have to instantly think that Miley does not either a) care what her younger fans think of her or b) hasn't even bothered to think of what her actions (are) doing to her image," said Larene Grady, a mom of two whose tween was "absolutely infatuated" with Cyrus but isn't anymore.

She thinks Miley does not appeal to children (who) used to like her as 'Hannah Montana,' which speaks volumes coming from a 10-year-old who had two 'Hannah Montana' parties, everything from bed sheets, pajamas, bath soaps, toothbrushes and book bags," Grady added, also in response to a tout on CNN's Facebook page

"Hannah Montana" seems about as relevant to the current day Cyrus as a typewriter is to millenials.

The 20-year-old has every right to chart a new course beyond her Disney days, moms and dads said in comments on Facebook and exchanges via e-mail. It's just that the path she is choosing seems so wrong and dangerous, many said.

 

Sonia Prince of Nashua, New Hampshire, said her kids -- ages 9, 12 and 13 -- will no longer be listening to Cyrus' music. "There is enough fantastic music out there with people who have respectful behavior, especially women who don't feel the need to be sexual in public in order to be successful," she added.

 

Cyrus' choice to wear next to nothing and strut around the VMA stage is yet another example, frustrated parents say, of the sexualization of our young girls, an issue we touched on at CNN.com just a few weeks ago in our piece on how too many tween fashions are too sexy, skimpy and short.

 

"I do think Miley wrongly represents the way girls should act today," said Steve, a CNN commenter who shared his first name and the fact that he has a 12-year-old granddaughter.

 

"The way they dress, act, not caring about how other people may respond to your actions," Steve added. "I think it is an oversexualization of young girls/young women."

 

Robin Belkin, a mom of three in Northern California, believes Cyrus' performance only adds to the already "damaging image of women-as-sex-objects."

 

"I just find it extremely discouraging and difficult to hold out hope for the improved status of women in this world when even the most entitled among us so negatively reinforce the worst stereotypes and misogynistic attitudes about women," said Belkin.

 

"Her behavior sets 50 to 60 years of women's forward progress back a long way when you consider that her huge fan base really only consists of young and impressionable girls and horny young boys, who, unfortunately on many levels, are our future leaders," said John Rodrigues of Boston, in response to a request for comment on CNN's Facebook page.

"Growing up under the impression that this behavior is not only OK, but acceptable, is such a terrible message and, in this case, I am happy I'm not a father trying to keep this away from my children," the 35-year-old single Army veteran added.

 

Eric Solomon, a father of two, watched the VMAs with his 15-year-old son. "I am so embarrassed and sitting next to my son and watching this happen made me even more embarrassed," he added.

 

Solomon said he has conversations with his sons about what's right and what's wrong, and said that they know Cyrus' performance was "not appropriate" and not the behavior of "your normal woman."

Mary Hogan of Cordova, Tennessee, doesn't have kids but works in education and says parents have a role to play.

 

"Parents need to explain to their kids that what she did is not OK, and should not be imitated," said Hogan, adding that parents who didn't like what they were seeing should have changed the channel.

 

"I think the biggest responsibility for a parent is to know what their kids are watching," said Mark Edwards of suburban St. Louis, who has three teenage sons. "The VMAs aren't appropriate for kids under a certain age and if some parents feel discomfort over what was aired, should they have been letting their kids watch the show in the first place?"

 

"The VMAs are supposed to be shocking," said a woman who did not want to be identified. "Why is Miley Cyrus such a big deal? ... I am more shocked people are watching the VMAs with their children."

 

After all, consider VMA highlights of years past when Lady Gaga donned a dress made entirely of raw meat and Madonna and Britney Spears kissed (mouths open!). It was, in fact, at the VMAs years earlier when Madonna broke out onto the national stage with her "Like a Virgin" performance.

 

Cyrus "took a page straight out of Madonna's playbook," said Ivan Baker, a father in New York City, on Facebook. "I guess I am jaded. Not very impressed or shocked."

 

While much of the online conversation post-Cyrus' national "twerking" episode was dominated by criticism, there was also a very motherly and fatherly response, parents who worry that Cyrus is a child in need of serious help.

 

"It's clear that Miley Cyrus' lifestyle as a young woman is expressing pain and is dealing with emotional problems," said Andrew Thompson, an engaged father of two boys in Country Club Hills, Illinois.

 

"Her mother and father have a responsibility to come to her aid and work out these social issues before it's too late," he added.

 

Some parents said there was only one upside they could see from the blistering reaction to Cyrus' performance and that is that it may show strength.

"The fact that she doesn't play the victim and shows that girls can be as aggressive and bad in many ways might in some twisted way pave the way for (women) to play in a more level field with men," said Leigh Bordbar, a mom of two from Toronto who said she was personally disappointed with what Cyrus did at the VMAs. "In her performance, she seemed like the one in control and in the driver's seat, which sets her apart from the ways that perhaps Playboy or fashion models portray women."

 

Nicky Calvert, a mom of two in Marietta, Ohio, sees another positive.

 

"There is only one good thing that I can say about her performance on the VMAs," said Calvert. It shows her 9-year-old how she "should never act in public."

 

May I repeat how happy I am my girls missed this one completely.

 

The argument that MTV's VMA's are "traditionally" a venue for outrageous behavior is both correct and unfortunate.

Using that logic, we should shrug our shoulders at the activities that took place at Birkenau and Auschwitz during World War II.

After all, the ovens were the "traditional" venue for that kind of behavior.

Yes, drawing a parallel between the horrors of the Holocaust and the ha ha ha of Miley Cyrus' "performance" is, at best, insensitive and overstating the case and, at worst, terribly offensive.

I agree with the former and apologize for the latter.

But, let's get back to that sticky wicket of an overlooked point that I alluded to earlier.

Outrageous behavior, especially in the hallowed halls of rock and roll, is not only a time honored tradition, it's practically a pre-requisite to membership in the club.

And every generation since Bill Haley and his Comets streaked their way into the collective consciousness has feared that said outrageous behavior came packaged only in a signature series handbasket in which modern civilization would almost certainly be carried straight off to hell.

In the fifties, it was Elvis and his pelvis.

In the sixties, it was Mick and...well, his pelvis.

In the seventies, it was disco.

Not so much outrageous behavior as a cleverly concealed conspiracy aiming to drive us all to shove knitting needles into our brains via our ears.

And, in the eighties?

Like a virgin, my ass.

So, Miley and her twerking tirade could be, and in some quarters is being, written off to this generation's pelvis presentation.

But here's the thing.

And the aforementioned point.

Sixty years after Elvis, we watch his gyrations and feel a sense of nostalgia and, even, a little silliness that a little bend and flex could have bent so many people out of shape.

Fifty years after Mick, well, Mick is still out there, pelvis and all, filling stadiums with the kids and grandkids of those who were convinced that the end of the world was "just a shot away / just a shot away".

Forty years after disco....

Well, some foolishly think it dead, but, hang a glitter ball in any room filled with the sounds of about half of what constitutes the Top 40 these days and see if it doesn't illuminate the thin line between being "born this way" and "stayin alive / stayin alive".

And as for Madge?

Still exposing a nipple every now and then, though the sight line to catch a peek has angled down a few degrees since the heyday.

Which will bring us back to do, re, Miley.

And her "edgy" performance.

Poppycock.

Fifty years from now, people will You Tube Elvis and feel a sense of nostalgia and even a little silliness.

Likewise, Mick, Barry, Robin, Maurice...

And Madonna.

And people will laugh at themselves for thinking any of it was anything more, or less, than the outrageous behavior that is a pre-requisite for membership in the club.

Fifty years from now, though, when we laugh at Miley and her bear-y bit of show business booty banging...

We won't be laughing at ourselves.

We'll still be laughing at her.

Because although they both end in "ous", there's a pretty obvious and established line between...

Outrageous.

And ridiculous.

One provokes outrage that fades with the passage of time.

The other provokes ridicule.

That lasts a lifetime.

Miley Cyrus apparently, and desperately, wants to be remembered in the same breath as Elvis and Mick and Madonna and Gaga.

It's a better bet that, at the rate she's going, she'll end up being more likely compared with another entertainment favorite.

Judy Miller.

 

 

 

"Faithless Love, And Life's Speedbumps, Like A River Flow..."

Leave it to me.

I read about Linda Ronstadt and the first thing that popped into my head was Seinfeld.

Stand by.



Legendary singer Linda Ronstadt, 67, told AARP today that she “can’t sing a note” because she suffers from Parkinson’s disease. Diagnosed eight months ago, Ronstadt began to show symptoms as long as eight years ago. But she ascribed her inability to sing to a tick bite (“my health has never recovered since then”), and believed the shaking in her hands resulted from shoulder surgery.

In a wide-ranging interview with AARP’s music writer Alanna Nash to be published on aarp.org next week, Ronstadt revealed how she discovered that “there was something wrong” with her voice.

“I couldn’t sing,” she told Nash, “and I couldn’t figure out why. I knew it was mechanical. I knew it had to do with the muscles, but I thought it might have also had something to do with the tick disease that I had. And it didn’t occur to me to go to a neurologist. I think I’ve had it for seven or eight years already, because of the symptoms that I’ve had. Then I had a shoulder operation, so I thought that’s why my hands were trembling.

“Parkinson’s is very hard to diagnose, so when I finally went to a neurologist and he said, ‘Oh, you have Parkinson’s disease,’ I was completely shocked. I wouldn’t have suspected that in a million, billion years.

“No one can sing with Parkinson’s disease,” Ronstadt said. “No matter how hard you try.”

Ronstadt walks with the aid of poles when on uneven ground, and uses a wheelchair when she travels.

Although Ronstadt’s new memoir, Simple Dreams, will appear on September 17, it does not discuss her diagnosis, or the loss of her voice.

Ronstadt, who dated high profile men such as California Gov. Jerry Brown and George Lucas, helped shape the folk-rock music scene of the late 1960s and early 1970s. She started as lead singer of the Stone Poneys, then went on to achieve fame as a solo performer. She has earned 11 Grammy Awards, two Academy of Country Music awards, and an Emmy. Her albums have gone gold, platinum and multi-platinum.



First of all, I should do my choir boy best to insist that I really don't have a glib attitude about this new challenge in Ronstadt's life.

So, I really don't have a glib attitude about this new challenge in Ronstadt's life.

That said...

"AARP music writer"Alanna Nash (and, not for nothin', but given her considerable resume, calling her "AARP music writer Alanna Nash" is, factually, correct but on the same props level with saying, for example, "Yellow Submarine co-writer Paul McCartney")is a Facebook friend and a lot of the comments going back on her forth on her FB page are, understandably, filled with expressions of sympathy, regret, loss, et al.

And while it would be, at best, inappropriate and, at worst, presumptuous and insulting for me to offer up any possible opinion on what Ronstadt is personally feeling at this life crossroads, I can't help but think there's just a smidge more drama in all of this than called for by the circumstances and that, perhaps, even Ronstadt, herself, is inclined to dial said drama down a digit or two.

Cause, here's a thing.

She has, by her own choice and for all intents and purposes, been semi, if not fully, retired from professional singing for, at least, a few years now.

She has made it very clear in interviews that she appreciates the fame and fortune that her abilities afforded her but she was ready to comfortably transition from singing star to single mom, a life that obviously bloomed where planted, given that her two adopted children are now young adults themselves, seemingly healthy, both physically and emotionally.

And while there's no doubt that a physical issue like Parkinson's will play a substantial role in her life for the years that remain, she is on the gently nudging it side of seventy years old now and, I suspect, proud of what was, but confidently looking forward to what is yet to be, in whatever form that might take.

At this writing, Alanna's full interview with Ronstadt is a day away from publication on the AARP website, so, by this time tomorrow, one of two things will be apparent.

I'll look like the right fool for this piece after we read that Ronstadt is devastated by the diagnosis as she was looking forward to singing continuing to be the centerpiece of her life for many years to come.

Or we'll all respect and appreciate her humanness, from here on out, as much, or more, as we have appreciated her singing talent since the late 1960's.

Because, it will turn out, that, by her own choice and for all intents and purposes, she had pretty much already said everything she ever wanted to publicly say.

Or sing.

And, the physical challenges that lie ahead for her not withstanding or inconsiderable, it almost feels like there's a little win/win here.

She has successfully lived life on her own terms and will continue to do so.

And the "loss" of her physical ability to sing doesn't dampen or damage a single one of the hundreds, even thousands,  of recordings of that gift that we, and future generations, will enjoy timelessly.

In an episode of Seinfeld, Elaine dates a guy who shaves his head for his swimming needs.

She happens across on old driver's license pic that show his full, lustrous head of hair.

She coyly convinces him to grow his hair back for her.

He discovers, to his dismay, that in the years since he started his shaving his full, lustrous head of hair, he has, in fact, started to go bald.

And freaks out.

I don't know Linda Ronstadt.

But something tells me that she's got spunk.

The kind of spunk that will carry her into the remaining chapters of her life with the same spirit of adventure and accomplishment that has made her a household name since 1967.

Her singing voice is gone.

But she pretty much stopped using it some time ago.

And I obviously can't know, but I suspect that she's not as freaked out as Elaine's boyfriend.

Bet nobody else thought of that.

Leave it to me.

"...Hey, Spud, You Gotta Lotta Balls Callin This Derivative, Vapid, Shallow Uninspired Crap We're Cranking Out Deriviatve, Vapid, Shallow and Uninspired...."

Pop quiz.

If Tom Petty was a natural disaster, he would be a(n)

  a) Tornado
  b) Hurricane
  c) Earthquake

Place your bets. Correct answer coming up.



Jake Owen is a fan of Tom Petty. The singer says he’s long called his fellow Floridian an influence, but after hearing the rocker’s comments about country music, he had to take a step back.

Owen becomes the latest to rebuke Petty after hearing of the May venting which made headlines this month after Petty talked about it to Rolling Stone. “It’s unfortunate that he’d make a ridiculous, uneducated comment like that about a format he’s not even a part of,” Owen said during an interview on SiriusXM radio.

Petty called today’s country music “bad rock with a fiddle” during a concert in New York City. He added later, “Most of that music reminds me of rock in the middle ’80s where it became incredibly generic and relied on videos.”

“First off, why?” Owen asks. “That bums me out a little bit … but everybody makes ignorant comments from time to time.”

“My dad always said there’s an a– for every seat so if you don’t like it, get out,” Owen continues.

The country singer says he’s still a fan of Petty, but it’s clear the rocker upset him. Earlier, Chris Stapleton responded to Petty’s comments by asking him to “put your money where your mouth is” and join him in a collaboration. The open letter to Tom Petty came across as tongue-in-cheek, although if Petty agrees to record with him, Stapleton seems likely to accept.



Owen's two cents (or two bits, in a more country music parlance) on this issue is just the first of what will, inevitably, be a lot of piling on amongst the good, true and faithful of country music, both performers and performees. (or party crowd, in a more country music parlance).

For several obvious reasons, the most obvious of them being, of course, that people, as a rule, don't usually like to be told that what they do/like/believe in/admire/appreciate/etc. is shit.

Seems reasonable enough.

As for the issue at the core of the discussion, the lament that contemporary country music is lacking something inherent to quality country music, well, the simple, unavoidable truth is that one man's trash is another man's top ten.

And, just as with so many things in current culture that seem, on the surface, to be, at best, regrettable, at worst, repulsive, there is an undeniable, if unavoidable, truth lurking just beneath the surface of any debate that aims to demean, damage or other wise dispatch said regrettable and/or repulsive amongst us.

Millions and millions of people spend millions and millions of dollars to experience them.

And, as one of my own favorite songsmiths, Randy Newman, so eloquently offered up a few albums  back, "It's Money That Matters."

Personally, I've already plowed this ground.

Here's the link to that lamentation.

http://phelpsounds.blogspot.com/2013/07/look-at-bright-sideso-far-kardashians.html


And while we're at it, here's a link to a very well thought out, thoughtful treatise on the tempest, from a fellow traveler on the boulevard of blog.

http://forthecountryrecord.com/2013/08/13/open-letter-to-country-radio-and-all-country-music-fans/

And, as a special value added for readers of my work here, a new tune from up and comer Wade Bowen that not only touches on the topic, but shows Nashville's state of the art ability to cash in on whatever water cooler cackle is front and center, even if the cackle is criticism of Nashville's state of the art ability.




Passions, ponders and pontifications aside, the discussion is, at center, a waste of time.

What sells will continue to be produced.

Until it doesn't sell anymore and then something else that sells will be produced.

As it has been and ever shall be, forever and ever, amen.

A lot of people still find it repulsive that Velveeta could ever be remotely compared to real cheese.

But a lot of people still buy a lot of Velveeta.

And a lot of people still buy a lot of what Nashville is cranking out.

As for the articulate, if somewhat ungracious, Mr. Petty, the answer to the opening pop quiz should be, I would think, a no brainer.

Given that he essentially labeled everyone who performs and/or enjoys contemporary country music an idiot.

The correct answer is...

 b) Hurricane

If you picked either a) or c), it's understandable.

Both are phenomena that do their fair share of hell raising.

The key difference being that, of the three, the hurricane is the one that best represents Tom Petty's comments on country.

Because, of the three, the hurricane is the only one whose noise, power and potential for stirring up shit can be seen coming miles and miles down the road.

This particular firestorm could be seen approaching the moment Mr. Petty opened his mouth.