Here's what my perfect world looks like: Lots of wood. Everyone knows Tai Chi. No more pennies, fuck'em. Germs would be huge so you could walk around them on the street, and basically everything is a taco. Also, there's only one awards show on Earth and it goes all year and it's called The Saddies.
A Saddie is awarded to people or things or concepts that make you sad because they are elegant and perfect and you'll miss them when they inevitably go away. Saddies are the ultimate "Recognize." They also make you feel cool giving one out because you get the joy of eventually being like, "Yo, I gave that shit a Saddie like, two years before they got recalled." Stoners would give Robitussin a Saddie back when it had Codeine in it. Ditto for Tony Montana and turn-of-the-century Coke with yayo in it, if that were possible. Stockbrokers would give a Saddie to their money, I guess. Anything doomed is sort of beautiful, which is why the Cheefy also gets a Saddie.
You can't give a Saddie to your girlfriend or your Auntie and you can't give out like 6 in a row to a bunch of similar things. These are unique, so think on it, motherfucker. Also anyone can give a Saddie at any time. So I guess your Auntie can have one, because she is pretty sweet. Anyway here's my first official Saddie:
Judah Friedlander, perpetually he who is himself actor / comedian / trucker hat sporter.
Why? It's not because he's funny (even though he is, very much) and it's not because he's a pop culture figure (which he is, sort of), it's because one day, probably soon, he's going to look in the mirror while shaving and say, "No more of this." And he'll be gone.
He's really gonna do it. I was sitting on the train tonight thinking about it. When 30 Rock gets cancelled (everything gets cancelled, I'm sorry) Mr. Friedlander will cut his hair and slim down and decide to take acting seriously - only a little at first. He'd start with a modest low budget film where he plays a misunderstood, clever underdog. It'll be just enough to push him a little further down the road to indie darling and away from a cap that says "BBQ SAUCE." People will start saying things like, "He's actually kinda cute," and "I like him better this way." Soon, he'll not be the star in an indie, but the best friend in a block buster. And Tiny Fey's the writer and EP. Fuck.
That's going to suck. It'll erase him. Remember Peter Jackson? People kinda thought he was charming and funny and totally bizarre and we gave him some Oscars and shit and then he was like, "Whoa, I guess I'm legit now. Skinny Time!" And the World's reaction was, "Yo, gross." I think we literally sent him to prison. He's making license plates in Milwaukee for Chrissakes.
I know Judah's like, "No way. This hat? This hair? This is me for life." But it's not. And I hate that. The minute Judah Friedlander starts to be serious and handsome is the very minute I start being sad. I already am sad.
Oh, and here's another tear-jerker. The actual award itself, the Saddie, is a little kid's soccer trophy. Oh my god, that makes me so fucking sad. Now Judah has one and I'm crying about it.