Around the Golden Globes in 80 Ways

The Golden Globes. They mean something without standing for anything. They're every studios' #2 choice for a DVD cover endorsement. They're the perfection of pointlessness. 

I guess, in two words, they're Kayne West.

Sorry North, but it all heads South from here.

But unlike the father North will eternally be mortified by come any tick of the clock, I'll happily visit the Globes for gelato as soon as science permitted. Because, as we've seen these past few years, the folk at the Hollywood Foreign Press Association sure know how to party.

Still, for many, there's little separating the Globes and the Oscars. They're like Armageddon and Deep Impact. Or, from even darker days of the 90s, Volcano and Dante's Peak. 

Brosnan with bifocals + Linda less lots of lesbian = movie magic. 

Think about it: we could swap Billy Bob with Morgan, Pierce with Tommy Lee, full casts with used tea bags, and be quickly forgiven for swearing we'd watched (suffered through?) it all before.

But regardless, here's how Stan has made sense of it all.

If the Golden Globes and Academy Awards were celebrities, they'd be Luke and Owen Wilson, respectively. (Oh, and together, they're the Golden Raspberries.)

See, Luke's laid back, somewhat decent looking, yet essentially a nobody. Meanwhile, Owen (being the Oscars), is usually troubled, tedious to watch on screen, but - for some unknown reason - appears to be a hell of a lot more important. 

And while both are related, perhaps what has one trumping the other is personality. (Owen has one somewhere, surely.) And the same deciding factor is what separates both 17-hour long awards telecasts from one other.

So, let's look back on the hosts who gave the most roasts. 

In one corner we have Tina Fey and Amy Poehler – the Golden Girls of the Golden Globes. Gags a go-go, they get top grades from me. And in the past, Ricky Gervais – one Brit most Americans don't get - successfully tore a generation of celebrities new ones for three years straight. And all for my viewing pleasure.

Meanwhile, in the other noose hanging, razor blade sharpening, anti-depressant popping, face smothering, Emily Blunt-object swinging, toxic gas leaking corner, out slide such sleep-inducing "stars" as Billy Crystal, Anne Hathaway and Chris Rock. (Seth can stay.)

So, to admit there's no contest between the two shows would be an understatement. 

Much like if we said, “Gwyneth winning for Shakespeare in Love made little baby Jesus cry”. Or, “The only decent thing about The Iron Lady was Meryl's British accent, which beat that of Gwyneth when she won an Oscar for Shakespeare in Love, which made little baby Jesus cry”.

Also, I bet you the industry's collective respect for Jackie Chan's acting on there never being a Golden Globe moment like that of Jodie Foster's "climb out of the closet" on the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' watch. Like, ever.

(Golden Globes. Golden Globes. Golden Globes. Stan's reliably thick with technology, but would mentioning “Golden Globes” over and over again in this post may help The Little Blog That Could rank higher than “red carpet floods” in the search results for the millions of Golden Globes' fans who Google “Golden Globes” now that they're Golden Globe-going, right? I Golden Globes guess only Golden Globes time will Golden Globes tell.)