If you’ve been paying attention to me at all, you may have heard me say once or twice or a thousand times how if Mary Fucking McDonnell wasn’t nominated for an Emmy this year, I was done. Well, I wasn’t kidding. Maybe some context will help illuminate the situation.
When I was in seventh grade, I discovered the TV Guide. It was a revelation. People write about TV! There’s a whole magazine! Every week! About TV. I read it cover to cover every Wednesday (grocery day). And when I say cover to cover, I mean that I read the listings, the horoscopes . . . everything. (I also used to collect covers. At one point, I had about seventy of them squirreled away in my closet.) When the Fall Preview issue would come out every August, I’d set my life by it, pick the new shows I wanted, make an official, painstakingly hand-made schedule, etc. And this was before the internet, mind you. I was all alone, and the TV Guide was my bible. So of course, come September, the Emmys were top of the list.
As a kid, you have a simple faith in the world that translates well to award shows. You have an inherent faith in the nature of things. For example, when the Oscars or Emmys claim that they are awarding THE BEST, then damn it, they are awarding THE BEST, no matter how much it hurt my feelings. It wasn’t until much, much later in my life that I realized the farce I had been playing along with. Quite simply, if the Emmys are an institution that refuses to acknowledge the revolutionary awesome powers of everything about Battlestar Galactica, then they are not worth my time. I had to learn it the hard way, but the Emmys are a place where THE BEST is perennially left out in the cold.
Battlestar Galactica isn’t the first stellar television ever to be snubbed by the Emmys (with the exception of Star Trek: The Next Generation, sci-fi has never gotten its due), and it won’t be the last. Hell, it wasn’t even the only quality show snubbed this year. Conspicuously absent are also The Wire, Friday Night Lights, and The Shield. Me and the Emmys, we’ve been having trouble for years, but it’s time to say goodbye and no amount of therapy is going to fix it. This year’s nominees may not have included the usual suspects (Spader, Piven, etc.), but I fear with the onset of the reign of Mad Men and 30 Rock (as good as those shows may be), the Emmy PTB have just replaced one head of the class with another, and that, quite frankly, is something I just don’t want to be around to see.
(Read The TV Squad’s take on this here. Couldn’t have said it better. In fact, didn’t.)