Awards are for wieners. This is a fact known by everyone who has never won an award. Are we discussing sprinting? Because awards should be given out in sprinting: one fucker hit the tape first. Boxing, too. The guy who’s not unconscious gets an award. Or contests. Elmira June sold more Girl Scout cookies than Susie May: you have a pre-decided metric or accomplishment, and whoever scores the highest, wins. Hot dog-eating competitions and hunger strikes can both be graded to find the singular “best” and that person or group awarded, yes, absolutely.
But art? An artist asks, What right have you to grade my work? Show me your portfolio, bring me your creations and let me judge you first. And, as a true artist has no rival but himself, he rejects others’ appraisals. The true artist creates his own award.
Hell, fuck art. Entertainment? Get out of my office with that foolishness. Actually: wait, don’t leave yet. Watch me masturbate.
Stop repeating this joke.
It makes me giggle.
It makes the nice people nauseous.
Yes, awards are for wieners, unless you’ve been nominated for one, and we have, so awards are fucking awesome and I love the Grammys. I have come to this revelation today, having learned that we are up for two Grammy Awards.
Yes. We. This is a team effort. Morale is low since Franken.
The Grateful Dead is up for two Grammys, Enthusiasts! Kinda! The Dead never won any of the shiny little doodads–they were never even nominated until after Garcia died–but, as usual, everyone’s favorite choogly band is doing its best work after becoming semi-defunct. The nods are in the categories of Best Boxed Or Special Limited Edition Package (May 1977: Get Shown The Light, Masaki Koike, art director) and Best Music Film (Long Strange Trip, a bunch of Jews*, producers).
Did you know that the Recording Academy is at the forefront of medical research into tinnitus prevention and treatment? That’s just one of the many charities that the fine folks behind the Grammy Awards fund; others include MusicCares, which helps aging musicians with healthcare bills, and the Starkey Hearing Foundation, which investigates hearing loss and provides low-cost hearing aids for Academy members. It’s like I’ve always said: the guy from the record company is the real hero.
What was that all about?
Those Grammy voters are good eggs. The salt of the earth. They’re salted eggs, man.
Stop kissing the Recording Academy’s ass.
You’re right. We need to cheat. What if we buy twitter bots and launch a fake news attack on the other nominees?
No. Well, maybe. Who are we up against?
In the Package category, the one to beat is the re-release of the Golden Record they sent up with the Voyager.
The one with Johnny B. Goode on it?
How nice could itHOLY SHIT look at that fucking thing.
That’s tough to beat.
Hey, the May ’77 box comes with a whole book.
Yeah, I read it. I’m going with the spaceship. My God, the paper stock. I would blow that box set.
It’s sexy, man.
You’re getting weird. Odds are better in the Best Music Film category, though. But not great. This is going to come down to one thing.
–me. No. You have nothing to do with anything. You’re almost irrelevant to yourself.
I will turn the tide in favor of the Grateful Dead. I have a plan.
I will come up with a plan.
*Amir Bar-Lev, video director; Alex Blavatnik, Ken Dornstein, Eric Eisner, Nick Koskoff & Justin Kreutzmann, video producers.