Although there is annual controversy around the competing categories of shows, a series versus a made-for-television movie, or some overly aggressive promotion, we have not noticed much ranting about the real weakness of this blockbuster show, the boring and insincere remarks by those voted an award. To use the favorite phrase from the 2013 show, here is a shout out to the Emmys. FORGET IT NEXT YEAR AND EVER AGAIN, ENOUGH ALREADY. This is such a dreary, long journey with celebs trying to act sincere and failing while giving a shout out to husband and children for an award that probably should have gone to another nominee. Many of us have never seen these shows, or at least all of the competing shows, and few have a passing interest in the hundreds of folks enumerated during the broadcast.  Leave the spouse, number 3 or 4 or whatever, out of the speech as he or she had little to do with the performance; please leave out the children who you seldom see and are watching with the nanny and would rather be watching Katy Perry or someone else we never heard of. In fact, forget the third grade teacher who helped overcome stage fright or dyslexia or gender confusion to spark a career. We all know that the last time a teacher showed such interest in a student, she had to serve years in prison before marrying him.

These are all fairly rich people trying to preen and at the same time be down home, and it is a clumsy affair. As for the battle of the master of ceremonies, who cares? After the 2013 dusty opening about emcee competition, the affair was 25 minutes late after only 30 minutes. The Colonel was 25 minutes lost after 25 minutes. There was one recipient, and we use that term in the proud sense of a Medal of Honor recognition, who just said “Thank You” and strolled offstage. It was shocking and returned us to thinking about the self-indulgent behavior of these remarkably awful shows. Whoever that lady was, bring her back for another award. She made the real statement of the night.

Actually, the history of the Emmy’s statuette is far more fascinating than the Emmy’s award show and any of its recipients. We never really see one up close, so let us apprise you that after television engineer Louis McManus’ 47 designs were rejected, the statuette of a winged woman (modeled after his wife) holding an atom was selected in 1948. “The wings represent the muse of art; the atom the electron of science.” The original award, called an “Ike,” was also the nickname of famed WWII General and our soon-to-be president, Dwight David Eisenhower. So the award was renamed “Immy” a nickname for the “image orthicon tube,” then changed to “Emmy” to coincide with the gender of the person holding the atom. (Why not call it Eve holding up Adam?) Emmy is made of copper, nickel, silver and gold (recycled US coins?), must always face to the left, and also has height and weight restrictions; with her base she is taller than “Barbie ™” at 15.5 inches, and weighs 6 pounds 12.5 ounces. However, unlike Barbie ™ who is stamped out by the thousands per day in China, each Emmy takes 5.5 hours to manufacture in Chicago at the same company which makes her sibling “Oscar.”

The entertainment business is not the subject for a discussion of sincerity, but would it not be nice if all of these very fortunate recipients (rich and mostly attractive and enjoying a celebrity evening) could just say “thank you.” Cut out the baloney and the emcee would have time for a song and dance and there could be a few more commercials and the end of the evening would not have to be a downhill race of “…and my manager and my tailor and my hairdresser and my various extended families, and my…”   Just enough. We have been there and it isn’t pretty on the red carpet and damn ugly on stage.

Watching the 2013 Emmy award show, we were taken with the banality of the acceptance speeches. Most of those honored with the gold statuette seemed unprepared, needing words from an accomplished script writer. Their gushing and stuttering was to us insincere, sometimes incoherent, and almost uniformly too long. The ending music and thoughts of a cane around the neck were highlights. This interested us to no end at a gala where everyone is beautiful, comfortable, well-dressed and adequately fortified with alcohol or their drug of choice. We developed a simple grading system we call S3 for the acceptance remarks: Sincere, Smart, Short. Few awardees came close to meeting this simple standard. Most were neither sincere nor smart, but if the remarks were at least short they were redeemed. From this experience, we wrote a rant that we intended to post prior to the next Emmy show, the recent 2014 event.

What happened to chill us is that the preview listed Billy Crystal as offering the tribute to recently deceased Robin Williams. As most of the viewing public, we are great fans of Williams’ comic genius. His death came as such a surprise, believing him a cosmic force that would go on forever. Just the previous year, Robin had delivered a touching tribute to another comic genius, Jonathan Winters. Though so fitting, it was particularly sad to have another brilliant comic pay respects to Robin and we knew that Billy Crystal would be special. In no way could we post something now seeming trivial, so we just watched.

Billy Crystal was sincere, smart, and short, too short. He held himself together, though it was obvious he was sick with grief. He reiterated what other entertainers have said of Robin, that he was the brightest star in the galaxy. Hearing Crystal say that, one could understand the full meaning of the tribute to a “light that burns so brightly it warms us.” Crystal also told of Robin’s loyal friendship and his unusual generosity to so many.

We did know how popular Robin was in our Sun Valley area where he spent time skiing. We once came across Robin and his pal Arnold Schwarzenegger at Lookout. We tried to follow them down the hill but they blew us away as they were both exceptional skiers. Chris Millspaugh, reporter for The Weekly Sun of the Wood River Valley, wrote this in the August 20, 2014 issue:

Williams was a frequent visitor to the Sun Valley area and the slopes of Baldy. Locals had been touched by his presence many times and always with his impromptu sense of humor. Once, dressed in all white snow gear, Williams ended his run at the bottom of the mountain laughing because he thought he was invisible, and then jumped up on a log and entertained fellow skiers for about 20 minutes. The 17 or 18 lucky ones that day received their own Robin Williams ad lib concert with delight and awe. Several times over the years that Williams spent up here, he would try out new material at The Liberty Theater and invite members of the ski patrol and Sun Valley workers to come judge his new act for free.

You can read the rest of Mr. Millspaugh’s comments here:  http://issuu.com/theweeklypaper/docs/14_08_20_weeklysun_pg_bundled/7?e=0

(Thinking of Robin and his connection to the Wood River Valley, we realize he also shares a birthday , July 21^st, with one of Ketchum’s favorite sons, Ernest Hemingway. Papa also fell into depression taking his own life in the valley just 19 days shy of his 63^rd birthday. Robin succumbed a mere 21 days after celebrating his 63^rd.)

All in all, the tribute was special and it gave such credibility to the award ceremony. It caused us to reflect, as we are sure so many did around the world, on a man who is uniquely talented and who shared with so many. What a legacy of work he left behind.

What can we possibly add? Nothing more than “Thank you, Robin. You are great. And you are good.”

From our home in Hailey, ID, we often drive the 10 miles north to Ketchum and Sun Valley resort or beyond to numerous trailheads in the Sawtooth National Recreation Area. Idaho State Highway 75 is busy with local and tourist traffic, and at times with wild animal crossings including the beautiful wolves. Recently, probably due to the huge Beaver Creek wildfire last summer, deer and elk herds come down from the hills to graze in the lower valley.  Several times a day in early Spring, a very wise and wily bull stands majestically on the roadside berm to the east, seeming to gauge traffic.  As motorists spot him and stop in both directions, clearing the path for their traverse, he leads his herd of about 50-75 elk across the highway and over the fence to a favorite grazing field before heading down for a drink in the Big Wood River.  It is stunning to watch.  Our two Huskies were as amazed and seemingly impressed as we. Pinky captured the moment on camera as we patiently waited their crossing.

Sullivan’s Island is an historic small town on Charleston Harbor. The site of a major battle of the American Revolution at Fort Sullivan, this was also the point of entry for many of the African slaves brought into North America. More recently it is just a lovely spot for a beach home in a comfortable community. It seems everyone wants to head to Sullivan’s Island for some reason: successful couples find it an attractive address, the wealthy think of it for a second home, tourists travel there from all over the globe, and even the occasional feral pig will strike out across the harbor for a sojourn. This did get our attention.

Okay, so a family travels nearly 3,000 miles from Seattle to Sullivan’s Island to celebrate Mom and Dad’s wedding anniversary. They spend time on the serene beaches, searching for sand dollars and joking about sharks. When out of the surf pops a porker, dazed and confused, looking for a stretch of sand to rest its weary limbs. Not sure the pig can make it to shore, Dad jumps into the waves and saves the swine. Speculation is that the pig fell into the current of a nearby river and floated out to sea. Animal Control arrives and the officers corral the pig for a road trip to an undisclosed location.

Prentiss Findlay, of The Post and Courier, inquires about the fate of the pig, and the Town Manager  sends an email stating “After discussing the matter with the state Department of Natural Resources, the animal was relocated accordingly.”  An abattoir perhaps?

WE SMELL BACON.

A follow up article in The Post and Courier gives no additional information on the whereabouts of the pig, but now another Dad from Concord, Massachusetts is taking credit for saving the swine from the sea.  What’s up with that?  Vying for porcine heroics?  The article states rules and regulations make it illegal to have a pig on the island, and the Police Chief says that pig “was relocated and taken care of according to state law. That’s all the information I can give you.”  An abattoir perhaps?

WE SMELL BACON.

In Seattle, our other home town,  “Bill the Butcher, ” who, well you know what he does, has this sign on the sidewalk.   Think those famous Seattle Pig Rescuers and Heroes are still adhering to Bill’s sage advice?

© Walt Disney

Plus, now we fear that even our favorite petite porkers, Disney’s Three Little Pigs, somehow were aware of their ultimate fate. The photo of FATHER on the wall tells it all.

The Post and Courier has no additional news about the swimming swine.

WE SMELL BACON.

R.I.P.

We thank our CSI Charleston detective, Whistling Dixie, for linking us to this story.  

Also, full disclosure, red meats and that “other white meat” very rarely share the plate at the Tipsy Table.  So, don’t blame us.

One year ago we stood in our Hailey front yard and watched the flames rampage over Carbonate Mountain just a few blocks to the west. It was a dramatic and very personal exerience to the wild land fire reality. The Idaho Beaver Creek fire, one of the largest in the West last year, really changed what is usually a relaxing time for all in the Wood River Valley.

During the week we were fortunate to meet several fire support personnel at the local market. They invited us to tour the Incident Command Post just a few miles north on Highway 75. It was amazing how fast this large tent and truck city popped up on the open grasslands, bustling with 24 hour a day activity as crews and equipment cycled in and out. The hotshot crews and other fire fighters from a number of states looked exhausted returning to camp.

The massive fire caught the attention of Hailey, already on pre-evacuation warning, when it made its surprise lunge over Carbonate.

We watched from our yard as an Erickson Skycrane sucked up water from the nearby Big Wood River and dropped it around the burning tracks for containment. These big birds are odd in profile, but a beautiful sight if one is at risk in a wildfire. The chop, chop of the rotor as the aircraft circled near our house was beautiful music.

Then out of the smoke and ash this photo of a Jason Wu shoe lit up on one of our computer screens. The resemblance is visually remarkable. We thought the Skycrane one of the strangest sights ever, until Jason Wu built his firefighters.

Can you just imagine running away from a wildfire in these puppies?

I know, we promised not to get into gossip about celebs, and certainly it is off limits to even discuss someone as strange and irrelevant as Miley Cyrus. After all, we just retired all of our bad jokes about “Achy Breaky Heart” when this twerking, jerking offspring sprung out from Disney to prime time. Well, sometimes we will have to rise above our principles and such occasion is the intersection of popular culture with scientific discovery.

So, here we were, hearing on National Public Radio that a recent series of “elegant” scientific tests had determined that a dog’s tail wagging direction is related to his or her emotions.

http://www.npr.org/2013/11/01/242126859/the-tails-the-tell-dog-wags-can-mean-friend-or-foe

“Dogs can pick up emotional cues from another dog by watching the direction of its wagging tail, a new study suggests. In a series of lab experiments, dogs got anxious when they saw an image of a dog wagging its tail to its left side. But when they saw a dog wagging its tail to its right side, they stayed relaxed.”

You can imagine what excitement this caused around the table. This serious science suggested to us that there just might be some rhyme and reason for the Cyrus tongue wagging.

Compare the tail wagging of dear Django Skyy Blue, circling right. Knowing our sweet dog, this is proof enough for us that this is a signal of friendship that should cause no anxiety.

In contrast, observe Miley wagging her substantial tongue decidedly to the left. This should strike fear into any dog or human. Even before she tries to sing, she is threatening. Though we admit this is not a scientific study, perhaps it could promote more serious study.

© Evan Agostini / Invision/ AP