So Monday night the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences handed out their beautiful statues at the Nokia Theatre. As always, the Emmys were a snore-filled snooze fest , but luckily there was a brightly shining stoned star who guided us safely through that never-ending mess. (**-more on that in a minute.) 

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Of course I was late (when am I not?) sheesh! I didn’t have a tux, despite the fact there were tuxedo fittings (gratis) But sometimes you just say fugedaboudit, I’m wearing whatever passes for dapper like grey slacks, a short grey tie (new invention), Prada shoes, and a tux jacket with weird seams that make it look like I’m a reflection in a carnival mirror, and if I have time, I’ll finger-comb some dusty defining paste through my hair in the limo, because YOLO. Or whatever the acronym for “zero effort, I’m only here for the gin and tonic and free cigars from the gift suite” is…

Oh how I love the red carpet, Haute Couture and modified tuxedos. I’ve been nominated twice but thus far unlucky with the golden envelope.

My excuse is that all the same people keep winning.

Low and behold, the 66th Emmys were almost all carbon copies of past years. That’s the problem with the Emmys–they are the only one of the Big Four (Oscars, Emmys, Grammys, Tonys) that have the option to continually nominate the same people for the same body of work. Regardless, the Emmys are THE status symbol for creatives and television actors alike for they are the Mount Everest of TV awards. A Media Guy can dream right?

Hamm: Close but no cigar

The awards also represent something tangible network presidents can present to their board of directors and stockholders and sales departments to use as a tool to get more money out of advertisers. In a word, it is validation. Yet while the Emmys have shown a willingness to accept new forms of entertainment, voters still aren’t quite ready to reward them…which is going to have a unique effect on big media’s bottom line.

Take Netflix, for example. While Hulu, Amazon and others maintain a larger streaming presence overall only Netflix has really gotten a seat at the awards table so to speak. Yet for some reason, despite Netflix’s success in breaking through with nominations, its programming can’t take the big prize and that’s an area the traditional networks still hold a huge advantage in.

** – Spoke with my buddy Allison at dlisted.com and I nearly split a gut with her take on Sarah Silverman…

For those of you looking at the toes poking out of the bottom of Sarah Silverman’s dress and wondering “Did that crazy go barefoot?”, the answer is yes, that crazy B went barefoot. Okay sure, she might not actually be barefoot; she could be wearing a pair of JJ Casuals. But since it’s human cloud of weed smoke Sarah Silverman we’re talking about, it’s probably safest to assume she’s barefoot.

Silverman: Do you want to build a snowman?

The second Sarah Silverman arrived, I knew everything was going to be alright. First she sashayed onto the red carpet looking like a sedated avocado with her breasts out, which is always the look. Then she got freaked out by a talking blonde grasshopper (Giuliana Rancic) and forgot how a microphone works. Then she started fighting with the grasshopper while trying to fix her breasts, at which point, Rancic opened her gold clutch to explain what she brought with her to the Emmys (good idea, distract the stoner with something shiny) and inside it was a vape full of liquid pot. Sorry, did I say full? I mean about 1/3 full, since she clearly inhaled most of it on the way to the Emmys.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the last we saw of a high-as-hell Sarah Silverman. She came back a little while later when she won the award for Outstanding Writing for a Variety Special, which she accepted by running to the stage barefoot, leaping up the stairs like Stoned Jesus, rambling about space and molecules, and thanking her boyfriend “Mr. Fancy Pants Sheen” (Michael Sheen). Afterwards in the press room, some adorable innocent naive cherub asked Sarah if had smoked weed before the show (aw, stay sweet, you). She answered that she likes to “have a puff as a treat, at appropriate times” (which I guess is the “Bitch, I might be” for more formal occasions), but really, did she even need to answer?

She was barefoot! That’s all the answer you need.

Yet I digress.

Really I didn’t sit there wondering about all of this. I was trying to hold my man crush for Mad Men star Jon Hamm in check. Really, the Academy needs to get their act together. No only do they “owe” me a golden lady statue, but they owe Don Draper one too! Jon Hamm, best actor for “Mad Men.” Academy voters have one more year to make this right. We know where they live you know.

…But that’s another story for another day…

Double the fun: Anna Gunn and Debra Messing (click to enlarge)

Hi Julia! (click to enlarge)

Ah Sofia… (click to enlarge)

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