Yes, it's that time again folks, an annual bacchanalian celebration of all the most cosmetic elements of music.  Namely, popular music.

-- THE BAD --
Okay, I don't want to see Alicia Keys cumbersomely walking across stage in glittery boots with 6 in. heels, bad make-up, and ugly trampy outfits that accentuate her (admittedly nice) behind.  We don't need another carbon copy Beyonce or makeshift pop star/diva.  I want to see her sitting behind a fucking piano singing.  That's it.  And I want to hear her above the obnoxious roar of the crowd.

Didn't Fall Out Boy used to be punk?  I mean, I heard "Take this to Your Grave" and . . . Night Out With Your Girlfriend.  They were punk.  Now Pete Wentz dates Avril Lavinge or something (and looks like a transsexual) and they're doing songs with Rihanna.  It's like they sold their souls for fame and crossover appeal.

Dr. Dre, you're old and no one cares about you or that "upcoming" Detox album.  Perhaps you'll finish it before you die, but I'm not holding my breath.

50 Cent.  Just slip into obscurity, already, won't you?  Go the way of Xanga, and leg warmers, and "priest and rabbi" jokes.

What the hell constitutes a "new" artist?  Both Gym Class Heroes and Amy Winehouse released studio albums a few years ago.  Perhaps it should be the "Just Recently Achieved Mainstream Appeal" Award.

Britney Spears is no longer exclusively tabloid fodder, which means in addition to having to look at her worn out vagina on the cover of every shitty gossip rag we have to listen to her sing again.

Akon.  Dear God . . .  Just Akon.

-- THE GOOD --

Maroon 5 and Gym Class Heroes.

I'd heard that the show would never again be aired in its entirety so we'd never have to be subjected to it again.  Unfortunately, that turned out to be some bullshit publicity stunt.

If all goes well, next year MTV's publicity stunt will be to broadcast live from space . . .   Where no one can hear them sing.