Mike Buzzelli

Thrown for a loop

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I’m officially out of it. If there’s still a loop, not only am I not in it, I’m not even near it. I was watching part of the Golden Globes Sunday. The only way I would have made it through the entire show was if I was nominated for something. I’d be sitting with minor celebrities and seat-fillers in the back somewhere, sipping Moet, working on an acceptance speech on a crinkled napkin.

When “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” won, I was shocked; mostly, because I had never even heard of it before. I used to know all new fall shows. I used to care about the network’s lineup.

As I may have mentioned (1,398 times), I used to live in Los Angeles. I would meet friends over at the West Hollywood Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf and discuss the new season. We had a lot of conversations about “pilot season.”

I had a lot of friends who were in pilots, doing pilots, writing pilots. Apparently, my pilot light went out.

After I moved, I reined in my interest in entertainment as an industry. My relationship with television has become more distant. I don’t even watch a lot of network stuff anymore. I went BBC. I love “Downton Abbey.” It’s the other reason I could only watch part of the Golden Globes. The award show time slot competed against my favorite show. I knew I could watch Maggie Smith and company on the DVR, but I wanted to watch “live” as it aired, mostly because of Facebook spoilers. I’m glad I did, because the episode shocked me. And not just because the lords and ladies were forced to dine with an opera singer. Imagine the indignity of having to eat with a performer. Oh, the horror! Hey, wait. Actually, I eat a lot of meals with performers. It can be pretty disgusting. Imagine if the Earl of Downton had to eat with comedians. I don’t think the Crawleys could handle it (If you get offended when people say “bloody,” you won’t want to spend five minutes with Lisa Lampanelli).

P.S. There was a bigger shock, but I’m not going to go all spoilery on you guys.

But I digress, like I do. I haven’t been keeping up with pop culture. Comedians and columnists are supposed to go after that prime pop culture demographic. We want the 20-year-olds reading our tweets, following us on Facebook, Snap-chatting and Instagramming. I have a Pinterest, but the last time I pinned someone, it was a corsage on my prom date.

Watching PBS is probably a poor way to connect with 20-somethings. But I like to stay current. I researched “Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” Then, I realized, “Hey, I watched this show back when they called it, ‘Car 54, Where are you?’” On Nick at Nite (I’m not ancient).

A “Car 54” reference isn’t going to get me back in with that coveted demographic.

I am probably going to have to watch “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” just to see what all the fuss is about. If there are 20-year-olds watching “Downton Abbey,” I’d like to encourage them to follow me on Twitter and stuff. Unlike those people in television, I accept followers/viewers/readers of any age!

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