Live From NASCAR Country, It's The Grammies

TO DO THIS, ONE NEEDS TO START DRINKING ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES. I HAVE. THEREFORE, ALL OBSERVATIONS ARE PROBABLY DISORIENTED ;-).

Let the snarky fun begin...

It's the 50th Grammy, and everybody's coming to the pahtay. Except, of course, the writers, who won't be back from their Strike till Monday. So you're just going to have to make do with Gennita here to yak about clothes, music, and rock n roll.

So, being 50 years old, let's have Frank Sinatra start the party. Umm, for some reason that guy on the black and white screen looks like...Ed Sullivan. Same stiff shoulder. Huh.

Alicia Keyes dueting with Old Blue Eyes.

Okay, so we started the show with "class."

OMG. So bring on Carrie Underwood in BDSM black as the first classy act. Look at them girl dancers swing 'em bats, baby. Yeah, write your name into his leather seat with the key, girl, so he can put you in jail. You're gonna buy him his next car.

You know, Carrie, it's been two years since you won American Idol, and you still can't shake your butt. Come on now. Stop that weird shoulder-shrugging and foot-stomping shit.

Holy...Little RichardsPrince! Now that's a treat. Sing a song, Prince, please?

And can I say how I loathe that Keyes "no one, no one, no one" moaning tune? I'm probably the only one. No one, no one, NO ONE!!!!!!no one what? What?

Break. Don't you think it would be cool to invite Edison Chen to sing a song at the Grammies? No idea who he is, huh? Well, just google him. Along with "sex scandal." I bet he'd make a good speech. YouTube him with "sex scandal apology." :::grin:::

Jimmy Jam. And there's Morris Day! Hey, I saw these boys live when I was in my twenties. Same song too. I think they taught me (and a few million kids) how to oyeyo-yeyo like a chicken. Damn, it's the same preen-in-the-mirror act! Joined by Rhianna-ana-ana-ana-a, a, a, and of course, the baseball-bat wielding dancers are now waving umbrellas around the stage.

That umbrella skirt on Rhianna? You'll never see Carrie Underwood wear it. And Rhianna needs to shave her chest hair peeking out of the top of the dress. Just sayin'. REMEMBER I HAVE BEEN DRINKING.

Okay, Tom Hanks just came out to sell Botox. When did he get Bill Clinton's nose transplanted on his face?!

Tom is talking about foursomes and some dudes with sunglasses. So of course, to celebrate the Beatles, let's bring on...Cirque de Soleil. Oh, the absurdity. And a wandering musroom on the stage...oh, the imagery..... And the song isn't even Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds.

No Cirque de Soleil act is complete without some acrobat swinging on a ribbon and twisting mid-air. Couldn't they have at least asked for the dude who wears nothing but a body suit instead of woman with a funky skirt?

Really, when I play the Beatles, I dance like Cirque du Soleil acrobats. Dude, watch me trapeze my way to a pervertified circus-beat version of the CLASSIC BEATLES, you fools! Blasphemy, I tell you. My Sixties Brothers and Sisters mourn in shame.

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be... So now is the appropriate social message moment. I'll let it be. (But really, what does "let it be" mean?)

And they now bring on Cyndi Lauper, who was the Best New Artiste last century. Are we going to say Amy Winehouse? Perky vs Angsty, I like the contrast.

Here's Amy's thank you speech: BELCHHhhhhhh!

Okay, my wine is playing up here. But three people are on stage playing violins and cellos. Jason Bateman is telling me to vote for violins with thyroid problems. :::here I look at my glass of wine suspiciously:::

Break. Let me go refill the wine glass. Something's wrong. I'm hearing classical music.

Oh, wouldn't it be cool to hear Obama try to rap in the Grammies. Then Billary can come out with hisher saxophone. Yeah, and they can torture us with Kenny G. It would be just like old times.

Okay, the extra wine isn't helping. Now the circus act has morphed into an alien on stage standing in front of a pyramid. It's...Kanye West pretending to be 50cents. Heh.

BTW. This computer music/pyrotechnic/electronic voice/black light? So eighties. Didn't Run DMC use to do that? Now all you need is bring back that guy who played the electronic piano and had these robots hooked to his arm while he moved. Remember him?

So Fergie and John Legend sing next. Fergie! Come on, is the color of the night BORING BEIGE? Where is your usual electric yellow tight pants? Not a belly in sight. The Grammies think they are the Oscars....

Fergie is channeling Sarah Brightman. In alto, of course.

Good God. Fergilicious curtsied.

I am. Officially. Drunk.

Some old dudes climb the stairs. They won for some old song called All You Need Is Love. One of the dudes is Ringo Starr, if you remember him o-O. I guess nobody else in the Fab Four could come except Ringo. It turns out Cirque du Soleil was HIS idea. Way to go, Ringo. Flipping trapeze acrobats. Pals are turning in their graves.

Break. Must be me. Was the Grammies ever so sedate? Where are the tats?!

It's Lady Immortal, Cher. What's she...80? She introduces Beyonce, who's 12.

Beyonce is channeling Madonna's Vogue. Okay, a thousand times better.

And then Beyonce introduces Tina Turner. What is this introducing after being introducing shit? Oh, I forget...they don't have WRITERS. They only know how to INTRODUCE EACH OTHER for script.

And Tina Turner, she still has legs my grandma would kill her for. My mom too. Heck, add me to that wanna-kill-her-for-her-legs list. I lurves me Tina Turner, so no snarking about her, even after half a bottle of wine.

So the Fiftieth Anniversary means bringing in stars from fifty years ago, is that it?

So, of course Tina INTRODUCES Beyonce out to sing. I tell you, the script is so good.

You see, Carrie Underwood? Shake your butt like these two ladies....

And here we go, another song from my childhood. Big wheel keep on turning...Proud Mary keep on burning.... (me stomping around like Carrie Underwood)

Do you think Beyonce will have Tina's good legs when she's Tina's age, huh? I bow to the Goddess Turner. She putteth on a hawt show, mamma.

And for a good contrast, we now have Andy Williams, who looks exactly the same, except with the white hair and Botox. Bring on the old fart to give a Lifetime Achievement Award to...Burt Bacharach.

Song of the Year: Please Amy Winehouse, please beat Carrie Underwood.

And yes, Amy Winehouse wins for "Rehab" and here's her speech: BEEEELLLLLLCccch! No, no, no....!

Break. In honor of Song of the Year, I'm refilling my wine glass. BRB. YOU may comment along, you know.

So far, all the songs, except for a couple, sound like they were from the 50s-80s. Jason Bateman is announcing the violin text-message winner. I have no idea what this is about. Oh one of them gets to play with the Foo Fighters, I guess. The hot chick in the tight dress wins the text-message contest. I wonder why.

I like Foo Fighters. They look like rock and roll singers, ya know? But aren't they, like, from the 90s too? Man.

Hey, Foo Fighters sounds cool on HDTV. And no Cirque du Soleil people killing the rock, thank you God. You see, Ringo? All we need is ROCK, whadd'ya say? Noooo! No violin moments! We want VIOLENCE, not violins!

Arggh...more wine!

Come on, Foo Fighters!!!! WHO ARE YOUUuuuuuuuUUUu!???! :::ah, let me flick my cellphone open for encore:::

Break. Nooooo! They just said Alicia Keyes is going to sing No One, no one, Noooo Oneeeeee.... Sigh. I might run out of wine before the second hour.

We're back with...George Lopez. George Lopez, of "whatta country"? Dude. Another 80s person. Didn't he make the same joke about a Latino VP a few decades ago? Now I get what's happening. They are recycling the script from the 25th Grammy Awards!!!

So a Latino introduced...a country singer, Brad Paisley. Huh. I'm totally confuzzled. More wine?

Brad has grown up. Last time I looked, he was still trying to grow a beard.

Dammit, if they are bringing back last century's blasts, why don't they get my old love Clint Black? Of course he'd be perfect! Man didn't have a script during his concerts either...just one song to the next...perfect for this WRITERLESS show, no?

Brad Paisley...I'd much, much prefer Rascal Flatts, please with pretty on top.

So now, after country, we will get Chris Brown (another blast from the past) to introduce Best Rap Album. Wow. The writing of this show SURE MAKING SENSE, dudes.

Chris just rambled on about something. Don't worry, he didn't know what he said either.

Best Rap Album: A sobbing 50cents comes on stage to pick up the award. Heh. Joking. Kanye "Tron" West. Kanye wouldn't shut up even as the band is trying to chase him off the stage. On and on and on, something about it's okay if Amy Winehouse wins Album of the Year...Kanye for Writer Of The Year!

Oooh, shhhh.

No snarky now. Aretha.

No one can jam like Queen Aretha, man. I lurvs her voice. Not dat yellow dress, though, which is to complement the Madison BUMBLE BEES band, I guess.

So we're getting different groups coming on for a medley of gospel rock songs. All that praising and hallelujah-ing are making me feel guilty about the wine. Can we now go back to bad boy rock now?

Break. I'm bored now. Is it over yet?

Do I care if Amy Winehouse wins over Kanye West? BEeeLLLlllch. No one, No ONE, NOooo OOooNe Nooooooooo Onnnnnnnneeeee. I challenge to tell me what follows after that. You see? You're stuck at No One too.

OMG. Carole King? And who? His shirt is too tight. And too seventies.

Some girl name Feist channeling Sheryl Crow is singing folk music. The lyrics consist of: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...you know who you arrrre...badaba badaba badaba badaba.

I kid you not. She must be answering Foo Fighter's WHO ARE YOU question.

Talking about I kidding you not, here's Kid Rock duetting with a jazz legend. Keelie Smith. Oh man. So strange. Kid, you can't jazz, dude.

And he goes to the Best Rock Album. Daughtry vs Fogerty vs Foo Fighters vs Springsteen vs Wilco. Please, no Daughtry. Pleeeease.

Thank you, sweet plastic baby Jesus on a pogo stick! I don't want that baldheaded guyliner snothead to win. Good old Foos. I love your oily stringy-haired rocking goodness. I'm tired of Daughtry's having-a-toothache songs.

Break. I still think it would be fun to bring in some Edison Chen sex scandal fun right about now. Even for those who don't know who he is, who cares? It's a sex scandal!

STEVIE WONDER. Now, you know he doesn't need no stinkin' written script.

Stevie, how long have those dread-beads been in your hair? It's really time to take them off, babe.

Oh Nooooo!!!!! No One, No One, Noooooo ONnnnnNnne....

:::guzzling down bottle of wine:::

Those earrings are scary.

:::guzzling more wine:::

ARRGHHhhhhh....ear plugs!!!!! You know, she dances/shakes worse than Carrie Underwood, heh.

Oh, I forgot the mindboggling Oh, ohohohohoh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! background vocals.

And the crowd. It loves her.

Next: Ringo Star is back. He is drunk. I can tell. Best country album? Hahahahahahahaha. Poor Ringo.

Best country album: if George Strait wins, I'll eat my hat. King George only wins in REAL COUNTRY AWARDS shows. Vince Gill won and HE JUST DISSED KANYE. OH YESSsssss!

"Given an award by a Beatle," he said, then turned to Kanye, and added, "Have you had that happened yet, Kanye?"

Who sez country boys can't dissssssss, eh? I bow to Vince. That was several hundred kinds of awesome.

Break. I survived Keyes' lip-synching and pretend-keyboard playing, so I might survive the rest of this hour. I don't have any wine left, sob. But. Peach Schnapps and Orange Juice! Yes! I'm going to need it for the upcoming mandatory male opera singers time.

First, we get to hear Rhapsody in Blue by virtuosos...and I WAS JUST TALKING ABOUT HERBIE HANCOCK, wasn't I? Damn!

Herbie, where are your gadgets?!

Okay, so we have duelling pianos and the audience fell asleep. Come on, Herbie, I need some scratching with my Gershswin these days.

Can I interrupt by saying that this is weirdest-paced Grammy Awards I've ever seen? Alicia Keyes followed by Gerschwin.

And now they are followed by country teen queen Taylor Swift in pretty purple and some dude who looks like he's just gotten out of bed. Rhianna-ana-ana- a, a, a, a (still in umbrella skirt) and Jay-Z just won for Umbrella-ella-ella-ella-ella a, a, a, a. Best Rap collaboration evah.

Break.

Cuba Gooding Jr. gets to introduce Amy Winehouse via satellite. Coz she can't come into the US because of Visa issues, you know.

Aw, come on, Amy, I thought you were going to sing "Rehab." Not cool?

You know? I love her. But she looks like she's more drunk than I am at this moment.

Oh yeah, here's the Rehab song. Another, song with no no no in it. Must be ze trend.

The first black back-up singer from the left? Hawt.

Amy, that was so you. Now say your thank you speech: BBBBEeeLLLLCH!

Tony Bennett and Natalie Cole to clear the rehab air. Tony stumbles a bit. They honor Doris Day. That's the first big English single 45 record my momma bought me, you know--Que Sera Sera.

Record of the year: Beyonce vs Foo Fighters vs Rhianna vs Justin Timberlake (????????!!!!) vs Amy Winehouse.

One guess.

BELCHHHHhhhh.

Kanye scowls.

You see? We drunks always wins belching contests. Now, back you go into rehab Amy dahlink.

Is it over yet? I'm going to go play my Foo Fighter CD now. And belch.

WTH? It isn't over yet? They are giving us a documentary. The audience is clapping sleepily. Okay, bring in kid-prodigees all grown up. Very spiffy piano playing, kid. Now go to bed.

Now it's time to honor those who passed on. Oooh wonder whether they will show Pavarotti?

Yes, they did, as the final one, The Man With the High C.

Which segues nicely to the next segment--Josh Groban and Andrea Bocelli ( I AM DRUNK. I just typed Mario Andretti. I probably should have left it as is so everyone can scratch their heads when they read the blog). (listening to them) Damn, I miss Pavarotti.

Was I dreaming or did the old dude introduce Josh Groban as the "respectable Clay Aiken"???? Gasp.

Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis are on stage. John Foggerty. Goodness gracious, Jerry Lee. Do they still have their own teeth?! AWwooooooooooh! Grandpa still can howl. And he survived the rock and rollin'.

And the Original Guyliner Man shows up with his glittery jacket. Good Golly, Little Richard! He's a weedle bit livelier than old Grampa Jerry Lee even though they must be about the same age.

Next, bring on the other grampas...the Rolling Stones! Why not, we'll all totter around on the stage after some wine. You know, nothing beats the sight of a skinny, white haired, trembling old man giving the devil's sign while his head is bopping up and down to Judas Priest. I always wondered how the Golden Oldies station is going to sound like when I get very old. The music would be so damn cool and LOUD. Heh. All that screaming would give us heart murmurs, I'd imagine.

Just. End. It. Already. A rap medley that covered a bunch of songs from the last 50 years. Is that all you can think of for a script? Yawn.

Usher and Quincy Jones. The final award of the night. Thank you.

Foo Fighters vs Vince Gill vs Herbie Hancock vs Kanye West vs Amy Winehouse
Who will win?

Oooh, Usher says: "Now, there are no losers here, Kanye." Heh heh.

And Herbie Hancock wins. That is good. No sweep for Amy Wino, I mean, Winehouse. Herbie deserves it; that Joni Mitchell record is pretty cool. And he's giving a great speech. See? The old school folks know HOW TO WRITE.

I think that's it. It's all good. Esp. ze wine.

OMG. They end with Cirque du Soleil clowns marching to Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band. I...you just have to be there.

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