Why Do We Champion Crap?

Lie to us. We Americans will buy anything.

I don’t normally watch awards shows like the Oscars or the Golden Globes, even though, as a screenwriter, I probably should. But the bloated programming and the bullshit are more than I can handle these days.

This year, I decided to break with tradition and watch Hollywood lick its own ass. I taped the Oscars and the Indie Spirit Awards. The latter is normally the more entertaining of the two as lots of booze is involved, leading to some pretty entertaining acceptance speeches.

The Indie Spirits were just “okay.” Infuriatingly, I wasn’t able to fast-forward to the plethora of commercials. My God, they went on forever.

As I watched, I realized that I was hearing the same twaddle that I’d heard in years passed. All this crap about helping Indie filmmakers realize their dreams, opening up more doors for women, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Empty rhetoric elevated to high art.

I’m still waiting for someone to open up a door for me.

Then I watched the Academy Awards. To say the show was “boring,” doesn’t adequately describe its utter lack of color or spark. The programming was bland. The presenters were bland. And the “entertainment” God-awful. I’ll get to that in a moment.

The only real individual who showed any passion was Joaquin Phoenix for his best actor win for Joker. His speech was long and rambling. But it was real. He touched upon politics, animal rights, his personal history with his brother — a whole lot of stuff. But I enjoyed it. It moved me. And I love anyone who protests the torture of animals so we can trumpet “Beef! It’s what’s for dinner!”

No, it’s “cow.” That’s what’s for dinner.

Now, here comes a rant. Billie Eilish? Are you fucking kidding me? This no-talent, 18-year-old punk gets to sing “Yesterday” at the Oscars?

Yeah. I said “no-talent.” Eilish mangled that song. Her voice was low and trembly, and clearly not strong enough. Not yet. But that doesn’t matter because the lemmings among us are wetting their pants over her. Her sound, her style, her this, her that.

Even worse, the mangling of “Yesterday” was used as a backdrop for the “In Memoriam” segment of the Oscars. What the hell were the producers thinking? MONEY. That’s what. Give this a listen if you can stand it.

Apparently, Eilish never heard of the word “contrived.” Because that’s what her whole shtick is. From the green hair to the talon-like fake fingernails to the oversized, outlandish costumes — she has been made up, from the ground up.

We’re supposed to buy the whole, “Oh, I’m just making music in my bedroom with my brother Finneas. It doesn’t matter that I’m more popular than Jesus Christ, I’m still going to be true to the music.” Uh-huh. Fuck off. Go back to your bedroom, shut the door and don’t come out for another ten or fifteen years.

The camera panned on her several times during the presentations and she mugged and rolled her eyes and in general, showed that she’s a stupid twat who didn’t “get” references to any performers not born within the last twenty years. A couple of her reaction shots were borderline insulting, in fact.

But none of that matters because we Americans will buy anything. We’re lemmings who can’t think for ourselves, and who are unperturbed by the championing of mediocrity or worse, out and out incompetence.

We have an incompetent Orange Troll in the White House after all, so what does that say about our level of intelligence?

Nothing good. We’ve lost our spark. Our bullshit detector. We just don’t care.

Billie Eilish cleaned up at the Grammys too, when there were several artists who clearly outclassed her, like Lizzo and Lana Del Ray.

Go figure. And no, I’m not some old fart with an ax to grind. I’m just tired of the bullshit. Aren’t you?

Here’s what’s going to happen with Billie Eilish: Because her handlers know that her fans will be watching her every dump, at some point, they’re going to switch up her persona. She is a lovely young woman, after all.

They’ll dye the green hair, remove the nails and start dressing her in designer couture. She’ll do a complete about-face and her minions will eat it up. They’ll be shitting themselves. I can only imagine the Tweets, the Instagram photos, the slobbering entertainment ink.

We’re talking cottage industry: A fragrance will be named after her. There will be a Billie Eilish Barbie Doll, makeup line…maybe even a Billie Eilish tampon for her female fans who will happily bleed in her name.

Damn. I’m cramping up just thinking about it and those days are long gone, for me.

Certainly, many of you will disagree with me. You’ll probably tell me that I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, that I don’t know “good” music and that yes, I’m an old fart with an ax to grind.

You’d be wrong. Because I do know good music and I know bullshit when I hear it.

And I’ll be damned if it’s not everywhere.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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