President Trump owns more property than most of us can even imagine. Yet this past Sunday night he was living rent free in the hearts and minds and sobs of the entertainment industry’s elite at the Emmys, one of their many annual pat-on-the-back fests. Meanwhile the rest of country continues to mark themselves absent from the lunacy of these over-hyped celebrity tongue baths as evidenced by its continued ratings decline.
Perhaps when the Golden Globes, Grammys, Oscars, Billboard Music, Tonys, Peoples Choice, American Music, MTV, , etc., etc., etc., award shows roll around next they’ll consider at least making Trump buy a ticket.
Ready or not, here comes the season of the over-hyped celebrity. The time of year when we can’t get enough award shows that honor people who live in an alternate reality… a fantasy world, where thinking’s not allowed, where everything is scripted. Unless it’s not, then it’s called ad libbing and embraced as masterful shrewdness.
Now imagine that we don’t know the names of actors. The names of people who pretend to be other people. Who pretend to be cops, teachers, mail carriers, nurses, and plumbers.
Then imagine we honored those who’s every movement is unscripted and ad libbed. Imagine if we knew the names of those who actually serve us, like cops, teachers, mail carriers, nurses and plumbers.