An Open Letter to Jimmy Fallon
Dear Jimmy, Jimbo, J-dog, JF,
Big night ahead of you tomorrow, huh? You’ve really made it in the entertainment world now. You slipped into the spotlight when no one was looking and you almost made everyone forget about the Taxi movie.
And now you’re hosting the Emmys. The Mother-effin Emmys. The Oscar’s slightly awkward younger sister. With such a great title comes even greater responsibility. You’ve got to do your best to keep the show to 45 minutes, an hour max. Oh, and make it funny. You’re young and you’re hip and it’s time we rewrite some of the hosting rules to keep this whole thing exciting and fresh. Fresh is a Hollywood buzzword, right?
No one wants to listen to winners spend 35 minutes thanking people with careers that most people don’t even know exist (I owe this all to my agent, my mistress, my assistant dressing room decorator who showed me that those banana yellow chairs really do help me learn my lines).
So break the rules, ignore the music cues, and make sure everyone keeps their acceptance speeches to 10 seconds. On second thought, skip the acceptance speeches. Have them wave from their seats and Tweet out anything they want to say. If LiLo can run through a therapy-session of Tweets about her Dad while high on coke prescription Adderall, then Tina Fey can do a decently witty acceptance speech in 140 characters.
Cut off the presenters when their intro speeches start sounding extra-staged. With the exception of my AOL-using Grandmother, we all know that awkwardly playful banter is scripted. I mean does anyone really believe that Sofia Vergara and that overgrown kid from Two-and-a-half Men really have that great of chemistry?
Do call out celebrities on any major scandals going on in their lives. You’ve got the mike and you’ve got total control. Use your time wisely by skipping the lame hosting jokes and pointing out all and any celebs who have landed magazine covers this year for cheating, rehab, or any combination of the two.
Don’t be shy when it comes to making fashion critiques. You’re a dude and ladies respect your opinion. No actress should get away with a horrendous excuse for a dress just because she’s an Emmy nominee.
Start rumors and have some fun. Get the camera men in on the joke by making sure that when they do the obligatory shots of Brangelina, followed by a lonely, childless Jen, that they end it with a dramatic pan over to Abigail Breslin. You’ll have all the home viewers going, “whoa, wait, is Abigail Breslin part of this love mess? Is it a love rectangle?”
Skip the miniseries segment. Feel free to post a Facebook note about it, but no one is on the edge of their seats waiting to see which PBS special brings home the trophy.
Force Glee to perform. It’s what America wants. And you don’t want to disappoint us, do you?
Stick to these ideas, Jimbo, and you most definitely will not.
The girl who defended you whenever you laughed during an SNL skit