NEW YORK — Hundreds of thousands of revelers gathered in chilly weather Thursday in Times Square to usher in the new decade and say goodbye to 10 years marred by war, recession, terrorism and threats of environmental catastrophe. (from The Huffington Post)
And shortly after midnight, millions more gouged out their eyes with icepicks because Jennifer Lopez has neither taste nor boundaries. And if you’re wondering why I didn’t use a more descriptive picture to illustrate what I’m referring to, it’s because I have taste and boundaries.
I’m not sure which was more disappointing — enduring her lack of clothing during Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, or being near tears from witnessing Dick Clark’s declining health.
Lopez was the headliner to a more appropriately clothed Daughtry, which recently released its second album, Leave This Town, which was titled for Lopez — not as a tribute, but a directive. A little known fact about this album is that the original title was Leave This Town . . . and Put On Some Clothes, Would You?
As if J-Lo weren’t enough of a mess, the 2010 edition of the New Year’s Rockin’ Eve broadcast had a new and longer name: Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve With Ryan Seacrest 2010. Wow! That’s a mouthful! But it’s a telling title, as the extended name indicates that Seacrest is the heir apparent to host this show. I don’t even have a comment for that. Except that I sure miss the ’70s and ’80s.
Things are looking grim for what used to be a wholesome way to spend New Year’s Eve. Once upon a time, we could count on Barry Manilow to sing “Just Another New Year’s Eve” (click here for a heaping helping of delightful and incomparable Manilow cheese; you know you want to), or sit glued to the TV, waiting for the next all-star performer because really? When else would we see them on TV, which wasn’t on 24 hours a day and had only three channels anyway? Maybe that’s the difference. We have so much “exposure” to celebrities and wanna-be-celebrities that folks at nice places like ABC don’t really have to put on the dog anymore because we have access of some sort to these performers any time day or night. So networks just parade anybody across a techno-stage, and we don’t have the good sense to say, “You know, I’m really above this,” so we sit there and take it. My excuse was that I was watching in hopes that J-Lo would fall on stage as she did on the American Music Awards. Because there’s nothing funnier than a celebrity falling down. Except, maybe, a celebrity wearing a body suit and falling down.
As if J-Lo weren’t enough, we were also subjected to interviews with nobodies — nobody reporters interviewing nobody celebrities and nobody Men on the Street. I lost track of which network aired an interview with a no-name reporter interviewing a Newsweek staff writer (it’s true), only 10 minutes before the ball dropped. She imparted her vast wisdom about the past decade, providing a nice news roundup of not-so current events. In case you’ve been in a coma for 10 years, you might be interested to learn that the world witnessed a tsunami in Indonesia, the United States engaged in a war, a Category 5 hurricane flooded and nearly destroyed New Orleans, the United States elected its first African-American president, we experienced a worldwide economic crisis, and on and on with the news flashes that, honestly, my 9-year-old could have shared.
And on that note, the calendar may say “January 2,” but in my world, it’s still a holiday — a holiday worthy of reflection and goal-setting. May the next 12 months not be marred by war, recession, terrorism and environmental catastrophe.
Have a very blessed and happy, happy J-Lo-free New Year.