Bizarre Paperweight Given Out As Movie Award

Last night, the MTV Movie Awards just had its 17th year of honoring some of the most soul-destructive and braincell-paralyzing movies recent cinema has afflicted on humankind.

The question now looms over us, more ominously than ever before, like the stormclouds of guilt that build and hang above unrepentant heads--How did it ever get this far?

The last hour of this ceremony, attended mostly by the stars of this H.P. Lovecraft-worthy universe of popular entertainment, which makes the Cthulhu myth seem like a lost Telletubby segment, confirmed my suspicions of its horrorifying ungodliness, as it set embarrassing new lows in collective creativity, and celebrated the very things that make the entertainment industry the safest alternative to a traditional lobotomy.

The intermittent comedic skits proved to be as funny and witty as a wire coat hanger abortion.

Shocking that these skits should have been written by adults. The skits' 6th grader sense of humor--petty violence, poking fun at social outcasts, poopoo gags galore--forces the critical mind to wonder since when were remedial schoolchildren capable of emailing their keyboard poundings as screenplay submissions, and somehow got away with it?

The Pussycat Dolls--a group of scantily clad dancers (what's new?)--who strut and pose on stage and who, incidentally, sing. Frenetic lighting and fireworks during the performance give it a Six Flags, Universal Studios, or Disney stage experience (except, of course, that this Pussycat Doll performance doesn't repeat every 15 minutes or so to the hour before the park closes; this live performance is once in a lifetime).

A movie like Transformers wins Best Movie. A director like Michael Bay gets an award for his latest cinematic crime against humanity. I don't think I need to write anymore. The evidence for an oncoming cultural apocalypse is here in this "oxygen-flow-to-the-brain preventing" pudding known as the annual MTV movie awards.