I suppose by now you know I am not a news writer and this certainly isn’t news, but I thought I’d share anyway. Maybe I didn’t lose my mind. I just had a bad cold. So bad in fact that I couldn’t write or listen to music for a few days. Fortunately this sneezing, sniffling, coughing, achy, stuffy nose, fever crap coincided with a few rainy days here in Southern California, so getting outside wasn’t an attractive option either.

My mild malady also coincided with the Academy Awards which takes place in my now soggy hometown. I felt so sick that I watched the telecast from start to finish. I know that sounds nuts. I’ll do you one better. I actually watched the Super Bowl a few weeks earlier. In between was the Winter Olympics. I missed the whole thing. I’m not that crazy.

I haven’t seen an awards show of any kind in many years. I hadn’t seen the Super Bowl either for about as long. I loathe awards shows only slightly more than I love football, but I got to say I might be more likely to tune into future Academy Awards broadcasts than a Super Bowl. I enjoyed the Oscars much better than the Super Bowl. I am guessing Peyton Manning feels the same way.

The Oscars had more suspense and drama. Ellen DeGeneres as it turned out handled the Pizza with more care than the Broncos did the Football. To be fair she had a longer time of possession. She was also funnier than Jim Nance. I also like the fact that there is no Roman numeral used in the Academy Awards hype. I don’t know why, but that goes a long way in my book.

The late great sports writer of the Los Angeles Times, Jim Murray once described the Super Bowl as ten minutes of action, jammed packed into a five hour program. At least with the Academy Awards there is no real expectation of action or violence unless Jennifer Lawrence is trying to go from point “A” to point “B” under her own power.

As far as the drama and tension in the moment nothing I have ever seen on television can beat the shots of Sandra Bullock seething and not even trying to hide her utter sense of entitlement while Cate Blanchett was giving a rather dignified acceptance speech. It might be worth considering Bullock was trying to hide her true feelings and she just isn’t a good enough actress to do so. It seemed for a moment only a swift, well coordinated security force and gravity was keeping her in her chair and not jumping up on stage swinging a high heel. It looked like she was about to blow a gasket. I have to admit, I enjoyed it.

My recollection of the Academy Awards was that it had a serious pompous sheen that was bolstered by over the top musical numbers. To my great delight this wasn’t the case. Ellen (if I may call her Ellen) came out and killed as they say. I am still laughing over the Liza Minnelli joke.

The comical tour de force however was the deftly executed satire on our look at me, selfie, photo bomb universe. Ellen took pictures of herself and others around her, which actually crashed Twitter. #Nowthatisfunny. The cool part is the photograph of these very attractive people who have chosen a life in front of the camera, look about as stupid and silly as those posted on Facebook at a nightclub somewhere. I must say, using “A list” celebs as props for social satire is about as good as it gets. Mark Twain would be proud. Oh hell, who am I kidding if he were still alive, Twain would be in the shot and doing “rabbit ears” on Angelina Jolie.

As far as the awards go, I can’t help you there. I haven’t seen any of the films and have never even heard of half of the nominees. We all do what we want to do and television, and to an even greater extent going to a movie theatre, I guess is a low priority for me.

I feel part of my gig is to remove myself from pop culture. It is too easy to subconsciously compare blues music to other entertainment vehicles, most notably rock music. Blues is not and never has been a mainstream form of music. It sits comfortably outside the commercial walls of mass taste. It sits outside of the flurry of the ‘What’s next?’, ‘What did I miss?’ and ‘Boy am I glad I am not going home with Sandra Bullock tonight’ world which we inhabit.

Blues music is a modest little enterprise, if it is an enterprise at all. It is a beautiful language that is spoken by very few people and understood by even fewer. It is an art form that can only be heard by those who have erased the tapes of other commercialized music in their heads and engage this form on its own terms. Blues music in many ways is the antithesis of all that goes into the Academy Awards and the Super Bowl. I suppose it is good for me to stick my head into the big tent every so often. I would think the NAMM show should suffice. 

I am feeling better or I wouldn’t be tossing and turning all night and feeling weird from the mind numbing assault on the senses that is commercial television. I wouldn’t be lying in bed writing this in my head and I sure in the heck would not be in my office, hammering away on my laptop at four am so I can share all of this nonsense with you. I haven’t lost my mind. However, if I don’t turn off the T.V. and go back to what I love today, which is listening to music, that is definitely a distinct possibility.