Last night, my fiancée and I made the mistake of watching the Macy’s Fireworks “Spectacular” on television as part of our 4th of July celebration, thinking that it would be a great way to celebrate considering we’re both native New Yorkers at heart, only to be bombarded with not just Regis Philbin’s round little moon face but live performances from both Katy Perry and some fuckwit called Kenny Chesney.
My question to you people is who the fuck is Kenny Chesney? Is he relevant? All the white people in the audience seemed to love him, so I figure he’s kind of a big deal – but I’ve never heard of this jackass before in my life. Have I been living under a rock? Maybe. Then again, I recognized Katy Perry well enough, and I don’t think I’ve ever listened to one of her “songs” in its entirety before, so I guess her media saturation is pretty high. Either way, showcasing both Perry and Chesney, in between cuts of Philbin’s grinning rictus (how is he still alive? Didn’t he have a stroke or something or am I thinking of Kirk Douglas?) was exactly what I needed to relinquish whatever last few ounces of desire I had to watch this abortion of a fireworks show play out before me – though I figured it couldn’t get any worse.
It got worse.
Once the fireworks actually began to be launched from those barges moored out in the Hudson, the live music stopped. Instead, we were treated to some absolutely abysmal choices when it came to the musical accompaniment, because the American public, in its infinite wisdom, decided that canned music from Neil Diamond, Lee Greenwood, Madonna, Taylor Swift, and Whitney Houston, was an appropriate match for John Philip Sousa and Francis Scott Key.
I just need to ask: America, are you as high as a motherfucker or what? I mean, did you really think this was good idea? I read somewhere that the music was chosen via a vote on Macy’s Facebook page, indicating that social networking is indeed going to lead to the slow, painful, wailing death of American culture – if it hasn’t happened already. I mean, I use social networking as well in order to keep in touch with friends just like a large number of us do, but I certainly don’t participate in goofy shit like voting to have Taylor Swift played during the Macy’s fireworks show. And I certainly wouldn’t have asked Cheesy Charlie, or whatever the fuck his name is, to play not one but two songs as part of the lead-in (Katy Perry wasn’t exactly an amazing performer either).
My fiancée and I were so fucking disgusted we switched to PBS, where they were playing the Capitol Fourth celebration, and got to stare at Tom Bergeron’s big head instead of Regis Philbin’s chipmunk-cheeked mug. Not only that, but we didn’t have to put up with random awful songs, as we came in just as John Fucking Williams began conducting the National Symphony Orchesta, and we pretty much just rode that wave all the way into the 1812 Overture, performed live by the US Army Herald Trumpets, the US Army Ceremonial Band, and the Quantico Marine Corps Band, complete with real god damned cannons – just like how it’s supposed to be performed.
Next year, we’re watching Capitol Fourth from the beginning. Fuck Macy’s, fuck Regis Philbin, and fuck Kenny Chesney. Whoever the fuck that is.