The Night of Tarnished Gold

Ladies and gentles, Emmy Night has arrived.  Cocktail up:

Where Von Schramm will park his man business and wait, tonight.

I will not be live-blogging, or probably even watching, the event.  For live-blogging, go to your one true source for all things Mad Men, the Basket of Kisses.  (I said I’m not watching; not that I do not have an agenda.)

Even in the best years I don’t watch the Emmys.  And this is not the best year:  I have jury duty next week, and a new job as well.  (For which I already have homework.)  So, needless to say, I will be cooking.

And after 10 p.m., I have a standing appointment with circa-1965 Manhattan.  As you damn well know.

But all of this aside, I have Hopes:

  • I hope that this is the last year that Vincent (Pete “Christ-on-a-cracker!” Campbell) Kartheiser gets left off the list of nominees.
  • I hope the Academy of Television Arts and Flyswatters is seating Jon Hamm that close to the stage for something more than the obvious decorative purpose.
  • … And it better not be for the one scene he played, wearing hooks for hands, in 30 Rock this year.
  • I hope that Christina Hendricks wins her category.  (There, I said it; she is not even the favorite from the show on the supporting-actress short list.)
  • I hope that, should Julianna Margulies win (as I expect), she says something wonderful about January Jones.
  • I hope, against every legitimate hope in the world, that January Jones wins.
  • Finally, I hope a chandelier or something falls near the Lost people, so that their fans and I can argue for years about whether it was rigged.

Best of luck to the best damn bunch of TV-watchers in the world:  scripted television fans.  You.  Thank you for taking arms against a sea of troubles (and by “troubles”, I mean:  White-House-party-crashing, debt-addled anorexics; equally debt-addled table-flippers; and young men who are very unkind to young women).  By opposing, I — perhaps you? — seek to end them.

Go bravely, my friends, into that gold night.  Hydrate, take breaks, don’t throw your drinks at the screen, and remember … there’s always Twitter.

(Agenda-free live-blogging:  start with The Fug Girls.)


One response to “The Night of Tarnished Gold

  1. Dancewosleeping

    Tonight’s Pete exclamation: “Judas Priest!”

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