You won't see much here about the Tony Awards. I don't usually watch them and I didn't last night. It's not that I've got too much Indie Theater-cred for them. I just find them a little depressing on a variety of levels. Also, after GLEE CLUB opened so well (thanks to all of you who came to the opening!), I felt like celebrating. So I watched professional wrestling and hung out with Pam.
Professional wrestling, for the record, is just like the Tony Awards: at the end of each segment someone has their hand raised in victory, some of those victories are entirely unfair, everyone is really mean to each other. Plus, the whole thing is scripted to get the desired result for those rich shareholders with the greatest interest. It's just that instead of jsinging, wrestlers just hit each other with empty trash cans. Sure, it ain't Oscar Wilde, but neither are Shrek jokes.
Frankly, if the Tony Awards had even one ladder match, I'd tune in. How about Neil Patrick Harris versus James Gandolfini? I mean, it sounds like a mismatch, but that's the fun. Who would win?
The three kids from Billy Elliot could be the special referees.
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