Hey, Hey It's the Grammys

Disclaimer: I wrote the first draft of this post in the actual text box on the website (rather than copy-and-pasting it from Word), and I got the dreaded “Internet Explorer has encountered a problem and needs to close message…,” so needless to say, I was pissed. And naturally, I feel like this re-write is very poor in comparison. So, without further ado, my second-favorite recap of the 2008 Grammys:

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks since I last imparted wisdom to you all. Many eventful things have taken place, and not just in sports, but in the real world as well. I am not going to talk about any of those things right now. Instead, I’m going to describe to you an event that has left an emotional scar that will last a lifetime. It occurred at the most irrelevant of events, the Grammys.

Yes, I actually decided to watch the show this year, mainly because Sir Paul McCartney had been nominated in two categories (neither of which he won [what’s the deal, Grammys people? You’ve put him on your damn CD three years in a row now!]), and I wanted to see me some Macca. The aforementioned trauma-inducing event didn’t involve Sir Paul, but rather, his former bandmate, Ringo Starr.

To set the stage for what was about to occur, I’d like you to visualize me multi-tasking: surfing the internet and taking intermittent glances at the television screen. I was about to focus exclusively on my laptop and bid adieu to the Grammys, but my interest was piqued again when the announcer sent the show to commercial as follows: “…and Ringo Starr will help announce the winner for Country Album of the Year!”

I had two thoughts:

1) Shouldn’t Country Album of the Year be one of the awards they hand out at the press conference earlier in the afternoon with the Polka, Reggae, etc. categories?

and

2) Why in the hell is an iconic legend of Rock and Roll slumming to hand out a Country award?

The telecast resumed and sure enough, Mr. Starkey strolled out on stage to announce the winner—the PA guy didn’t misspeak (to quote Roger Clemens). After forcing out some alliterative joke centered on the word ‘country,’ (oh, and before I continue, the golden opportunity to work ‘cunt’ into the live telecast was horribly passed over) the winner was announced: Vince Gill.

I half-expected to see Gill stroll up onstage with a tuxedo t-shirt, a camouflage Dale Earnhardt Jr. cap, and cowboy boots, but I was pleasantly surprised. And the man even gave credit where credit was due, saying “I can’t believe I just got handed an award by a Beatle.” I would like to take this time to tip my hat (hell, in this metaphor, it can even be a cowboy hat, Vince) to you, sir, for showing the proper amount of respect. And I guess there are some rednecks who acknowledge the unparalleled greatness of the Beatles. However, they must not have a tribe established in Southern Indiana.

Now, by this point, you are probably asking yourself “where does the emotional scarring come into play?” Well, my friend, it comes into play right now. Upon making his “Beatle gave me an award” spiel, Gill turned to Kanye West and said “this never happened to you, did it, Kanye?”

That sound you hear is the shattering of my entire universe.

Vince Gill, the musical equivalent of a rodeo clown, just taunted a legend-in-the-making (who I’ll concede is known for making boisterous claims about awards he should or should not receive in order to satisfy his starving ego) by making a joke involving an actual legend that basically amounted to a child on a playground proclaiming “nana, nana, boo-boo!” Of course, there was the courtesy laughter, but surely, the sheer oddity of collective musical opposites actual communicating with one another should have brought a confused hush over the audience.

No doubt, the few rednecks watching at home sporting woodies for one of their men spat up their beer and flung their Fritos in the air, all the while asking their television set “did he just talk to a colored!?” All the while, black folks everywhere posed this head-scratcher: “KKK musician says what!?”

To his credit, Kanye, one of the coolest guys in the world, handled things graciously. He applauded and even gave a courtesy chuckle. But deep down, you just know that he had to be thinking “who is this motherfucker? I’m Kanye fucking West!”

And after that, the Country fellows bowed out for the evening. My guess is that had the camera panned to their section after this award, you would see mud-caked walkways leading out to a cavalcade of F-150s. The lone exception to this Country rule came at last year’s awards, when the Grammy committee decided to give all the major hardware to the Dixie Chicks after the Country community shunned them for their continued criticism of George W. Bush.

Yet, this was not last year. Therefore, Toby Keith was no longer on stand-by to put a foot in some hoity-toity, America-hating, Grammy voter’s ass. Instead, he was just able to soak in the most awkward moment in Grammys history: the night that a Country musician used a Beatle to trash a Rap musician.

…

I wish I could have made this up.