The MTV Video Awards: The Night of the Ass

I just deleted several opening paragraphs for today’s post because, despite my efforts, I cannot sugarcoat my review of the 2014 MTV Video Music Awards with a flowery opening or even some age-deprecating excuses as to why I didn’t enjoy what I saw.

The only thing that kept me from using the vomit bag I keep handy was my hope that I was either imagining the whole thing or that the entire world will agree with me. Neither scenario, I suspect, will redeem us. I fear it all actually happened.

Contrary to the belief of many some, I am not an idiot. I understand that young people are sexual beings. I have long believed that abstinence is less likely to become a successful method of handling horny teens than a solid attempt to educate them about protection from unwanted pregnancy and damaging STDs but what I and millions of adolescents saw last night was an un-doer of all the good we try to impart to teenagers everywhere as well as shockingly vulgar for someone like me…no prude but a product of a decidedly different age.

Ugh.

On last night’s MTV Video Music Awards, at best, female sexuality was represented by glaring, sneering, snarling women who appeared to interpret “sexy” as looking as mean as possible. But, as a woman, what do I know? Maybe men are turned on by really scary, angry looking women. I hope not. What I do know was that last night’s show was a celebration of the profane and obscene, interrupted by commercials for pimple creams, fast food and promos for madcap sitcoms about teen pregnancy.

So, obviously, MTV knew who their audience was. It was kids.

Jokes were even made about certain artists who look like jail bait. They repeatedly emphasized that specific, very youthful looking performers were genuinely of legal age. Maybe the diminutive, talentless and bland Ariana Grande actually is 21 but another, who goes by the moniker of Becky G, is 17.

Nicki in one of the more tasteful moments
of last night's ass fest.

Kicked off  by senior citizens Snoop Dogg and Gwen Stefani, the evening was a total mess.

One of the first numbers was some kind of insanity with the detestable Nicki Minaj whose appeal I will never comprehend.  

Her giant and terrifying derriere was the star of the performance and, I (again, I am a woman) was more grossed out than impressed. Hers used to be the kind of rear end that women would strive to camouflage with the right clothes but Nicki worked both it and the audience into a frenzy with her ass-robatics as the camera cut to the dead-eyed but also generously tushied Kim Kardashian. I wondered if there might be an “ass-off” later on.

After last year's spectacle with Robin Thicke, Miley Cyrus, toned down in a leather bra, provided the most contrived moment of the evening as she sent up a young homeless -- or something -- young man to accept her award and read a statement about being homeless  -- or something – while she conspicuously sat nearby  trying very hard to squeeze out a tear or two. The whole thing made me cringe. As another social statement, Common (who I love…especially as the brooding Elam on the epic television show, “Hell on Wheels”) asked this sexed-up crowd for a minute of silence for the recent unrest in Ferguson that lasted all of 13 seconds. If you ask for a minute, take a minute, Mr. Common. I am a very literal person.

The entire evening was a showcase for countless asses, crotches, humping and bumping around, simulated sex and the aforementioned sneering and glaring. If my mother were still alive and watching this show with me, it would have  – without question – killed her.

Lorde, looking gleeful, at
last year's Grammys.

The only ass-free portion of the evening was Taylor Swift who, taking a semester off from country pap to put a skinny toe into the waters of bouncy pop, attempted to shake her invisible booty to a new hit which, shock of shocks, I did not hate. 

That doesn’t mean I’m softening toward Miss Swift. She was as incredibly annoying as ever, acting coy and earnest from the front row, applauding enthusiastically as her “friend” Lorde (whose fashion and make-up choices make Morticia Addams look bright as a new penny) accepted an award. My advice to Lorde: watch your back.

Nothing could save this show for me. Not Adam Levine. Not some recently landed extraterrestrial named Iggy Azalea who appeared to be channeling an angry rapping robot...not even Usher who I usually love and was the only one all night who smiled while performing. By the way, he also interacted heavily with yet another appearance of Nicki Minaj’s ubiquitous ass.

This was, indeed, the night of the ass.

This leads to a different problem with last night’s MTV Video awards. They were boring as hell. Yes, yes, America’s youth, to me…not you. Or, maybe you were a little bored.  

Did you enjoy Beyonce’s marathon of grinding and thrusting (once you’ve seen one thrust, you’ve seen ‘em all) or did you fall into a mercifully dreamless coma like I did? 

Luckily, I'd recorded the whole thing in case I missed something wonderful so I rewound Beyonce and watched again later. Nope. It was more of the same:  mad faces, flared nostrils, sidelong glares and moves that will land Miss Bey, as well as her dancers, in traction one day. Yawn.

Mean Face #74

More yawning for Blue Ivy and her Daddy who presented “the greatest living entertainer” with a Moon man for something or other.

So, despite all the people with initials instead of last names, all the videos  “featuring” people with initials instead of last names and one Mr. Riff Raff who won the “Susan Says…”  for the "Most Ridiculous Looking Human Ever,” I was bored and antsy or bored and fully asleep or bored and grossed-out which is why I am never going to watch the MTV Video Music Awards ever again.

Riff Raff.
Aptly named, no?