So what exactly is our fascination with Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez? Why is America so enthralled with this relationship?

I was flipping through the TV channels the other night (manually, since I still have yet to find my remote) when I came across Pat O’Brien on “Hollywood Tonight” or “Inside Entertainment Access” or whatever payola show he’s a part of touting his ability to be the first interview to interview both Jen and Ben at the same time.

GASP! No! At the same time?!

Who gives a flying fuck whether they’re being interviewed together or apart? Why are we so fascinated with two people, one, who has had two failed marriages, and the other, who has a tendency to ham it up onscreen.

What possible relationship advice can we expect them to impart? And why should we care?

Apparently, this is all part of some huge promotional scam called, “Jen and Ben Week,” on NBC culminating in the shocking, nay, revealing dual interview. Way to go, Pat. You whore. I guess this coincides with their new movie, “Gigli” opening in theaters this weekend, a film that is sure to gross a trillion dollars and still suck major balls despite the fact that Al Pachino, and Christopher Walken are also in it.

However, this retarded interview was pushed out of my mind by what is easily the dumbest logic I’ve heard all week. Apparently, for the Emmy Awards, which, I believe were announced today, the presenters are being given gift bags valued at approximately, $20,000.

No, that is not a typo.

A gift bag is something you give to say thank you. It usually contains scented lotions, or a pineapple. A gift bag should not cost more than my first car.

Among the items in the bag are Lasek surgery, and a Mondavi watch. Now, I can’t begin to guess at the extravagance that results in the rest of the 20 grand, but let’s try, shall we?

Last year’s bag had for women, a black and white bracelet with sapphires, and for men, garnet oval cufflinks. It Also had a gift certificate for a pair of handmade leather shoes, five nights accommodations at a resort in Hawaii, Maurice Lacroix watches, Nokia telephones that feature a full–color screen and stereo FM radio and which can send images just like a camera, one year’s worth of Rembrandt oral care products and a gift certificate for a one–hour whitening procedure with Dr. John Ivey, one–year bicoastal health membership to the Sportsclub/LA Clubs nationwide and United Airlines upgrade certificates and gift certificates for dining for two at the Signature Room atop the John Hancock building in Chicago.

So riddle me this, Batman? Why should these multi-millionaires be forced to buy their own jewelry and cosmetic surgery when they can pop out on stage for thirty seconds and announce a winner of a dumb-ass TV trophy and get it for free?

Who the hell gives away cosmetic surgery? That is the most retarded thing I have ever heard. These presenters are all rich. No, they are super rich. If you added up the entire amount of money I can hope to earn in a lifetime and multiply it by ten, it would probably only equal what Keanu Reeves made on Tuesday.

Here’s a better question: where is the academy getting all of this money to throw around on crap like this? How about they refocus on a campaign to promote watchable television programming?

My mom called yesterday afternoon.

“Guess who died?”

I quickly scanned the list of aging or ill friends and family, growing increasingly concerned.

I thought it was someone important. As it turns out, he was some redneck who, in the ‘60s, hosted a Baltimore teen dance show that was the inspiration for The Corny Collins Show in “Hairspray.”

“Oh,” I said, somewhat relieved and somewhat disappointed.

Apparently, his show would have “Negro Day,” where, for one day, they would deviate from their all-white cast and allow black people into the studio and on the air. Of course, they would also have a different host, because this guy refused to be on the same TV show as blacks.

The world will mourn his passing, I’m sure.

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