By the time you finish this sentence, the 2012 MTV Video Music Awards will have been over for more than 12 hours (unless they're still killing you with that damn endless loop). Your brain will have turned to mush, your Twitter and dFacebook timelines slowly rebuilding themselves from ash and your common thoughts all swelling around the same topic - "Damn, this was really short."
However, I have ADD. Or I'd like to say I have ADD to score writer points whenever I tell stories. Case in point, I fast-forwarded through almost every single performance last night and became fixated with this picture. Not that you cared about who actually won awards because, well it's MTV and the entire thing is an oxymoron to your brain cells. Let's move on.
Our subject class is Drake, Canadian-born swooner clutching a moon man for Best Hip-Hop Video for Take Care's "HYFR". There's nothing wrong with "HYFR," it's probably the most lucid Lil Wayne verse we may hear in the next 12 months (yes, that was a 14-word review of Dedication 4). It features maybe the most adorable Drake .gif of all time, with him as a kid dancing around at his own Bar Mitzvah. If we were ranking Drake .gifs, it'd would land in the Hall of Fame right along this Tumblr page.
But this photo sums up everything about the VMAs, at least the 2012 version.
To the far left would be Mack Maine. No, he isn't a weed carrier but he darn sure looks like the adult version of Black Bart Simpson here. His importance these days is to be a part of every YMCMB award acceptance. And I mean every one. Say your kid wore a YMCMB shirt to his fifth-grade award ceremony, Mack Maine's there too.
Little Tommy won a Little League trophy and yelled "YOLO" to the point where it got mainstream acceptance? Mack Maine's photobombing your moment. The jury is still out on whether or not Miley Cyrus called him after he gave her a 3-year-window.
Behind Black Bart Simpson is a guy named Opie. Why is he here? Because he was in the video. He may have been the guy helping toss Drake in the air for all I know. He'd be more distinct if he didn't seem like an extra from Breaking Bad. Or skinny Action Bronson. He's key here, barely moving and enjoying himself like the faux-Unabomber that he is. Splendid.
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Next to him is Nicki Minaj. She'll play an important role in the death of "wholesome" Alicia Keys later on by actually being great but here she seems like a prop. A shapely, ready-to-spaz-out-at any-moment prop. And also vote Republican even when she isn't registered to do so.
Our star pupil is holding up the moon man, cherishing his victory. For some reason, it was a good idea of him to dip into the River Phoenix kit at home, skip the drugs and zoom right to the wardrobe. Slightly tye-dye shirt, a shirt under said tye-dye shirt and faux leather jeans. He sported cleavage on this occasion, not because he wanted to show how manly he was, but because he wanted to tell the world that his victory was for "anyone who ever took a walk home alone".
That would have been deep. If not for the fact that everybody walks home alone. Or has a buddy system in case they stumble. Drake thoughts are the shallow things you find in high school yearbooks. Or hacked Twitter accounts by pandering men who get no play, pillow fight with themselves and practice emo faces watching the "Leave Britney Alone" guy perfect it.
Finally, there's Lil Wayne. He's flexing for the camera, a sprite of an individual who is worth more than many and feels the need to have a career reinvention on the eve of his thirties. I used to remember him for rapping very, very well. Now? I remember him for skateboarding, preening at the camera like an even more zooted out Macho Man and becoming an endorser of things that made suburban teens gawk at in the mid-90s.
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Five people, five poses, all of which can describe the shortest, if-you-missed-it-just-shrug VMA telecast we ever got. Just a bright, not funny mess of friends & colleagues (unless you're Chris Brown, therefore you're no friend at all, you're just Ken Masters).