Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

My mini-essay yesterday about the Oscars has fueled further thought about award shows in general. For some reason, I’m addicted to watching them, even when I am not a devotee of the medium being honored. I don’t go to movies; I don’t watch television; I don’t keep up with daytime soap operas; and I don’t listen to music radio. I go to New York City so seldom that I cannot be called a fan of Broadway either.

Nevertheless, I LOVE award shows.

So the corollary of this is: Why? Why this intense interest in seeing who got what when I don’t even study the genre in which the award is bestowed? I think it has to do with feeling superior.

Most of the winners of the various awards make far more than I do as a humble scribe. They lead far more visible, exciting lives too. While they are enjoying caviar at a cocktail party, I’m paying for my own drinks.

So when I watch an award show, it’s my opportunity to pick things apart, to feel better by criticizing the glitteratti. It isn’t that my ego is so small or that my self-esteem needs boosting; it’s more that I find Hollywood, Music City, and Broadway to be somewhat overrated in the everyday world.

I start by critiquing the outfits worn by the stars because my preferred costume is a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I wouldn’t know which end of a pair of heels to push my toes into. Then there are the rehearsed lines for stars introducing starlets who will then introduce the person who will announce the award. It’s as if the whole thing is about how many recognizable people can be squeezed into one or two hours. Finally, it’s about the acceptance speeches, or lack thereof.

For the most part, these people make their living performing in front of a live audience. Even actors and actresses in movies must hype their films by visiting the various morning talk shows and the late night hosts. It shouldn’t be unrealistic to assume they can string one or two sentences together without much effort. Instead, they go “Oh my God” or “I can’t believe it” or “I didn’t expect this, so I’m not prepared.”

This is where the feeling of superiority on my part kicks in. I am positive, one hundred percent positive, that if I knew I was up for a particular award where a thank-you speech was expected, I would prepare one. Even if I thought I might lose, I would be ready. So although I’m not a movie star or a recording artist or a theater performer, I believe I could beat them all in the contest called “Acceptance Speech.” Hands down.