Nobel Prize? What about the Nobel Party?

J.B. Sivanich

It seems like nothing really awesomely cool has happened since I first saw the new “Twilight” trailer – is anyone seriously on Team Jacob? – for a while now. But last week, my trend-identifying spider senses had their needle turned to “hot.”
The Nobel prizes usually just nominates boring people from Finland whose names no one can pronounce and tired infomercial hosts like Al Gore. But this year, the Nobel Committee nominated two unbelievably cool people in Barack Obama and Thomas Steitz.
Ever since my senior year of high school when I realized that, out of the 12 colleges I applied to, Lawrence was the only college that accepted me, I have thought that everything about this place is mind-blowingly cool. And, yes, that includes Jessica Newsome, “jocks,” and even the idiot who set off the fire alarm in Sage last Tuesday night right as Ross was about to marry the English girl and says Rachel’s name during his vows – oh, like you never Hulu old episodes of Friends when you get lonely. So the Nobel gets total props for nominating Thomas Steitz, Lawrence graduate of the class of 1962.
Of course, the coolest man on Earth won a Nobel. Hat’s off to you, Sr. Presidente. I’m a little confused why everyone keeps hating on him, but, then again, I’m not very smart about these things. I mean, I don’t know much about politics, but I do know a whole lot about partying. And after doing a little research on the Nobel, I’m thoroughly disappointed with how the Nobel Committee goes about things. Every time I go to the Christmas party that my Dad’s college roommate throws every year, I think to myself, “After 27 years of throwing the same party, you seriously can’t think of anything better than this same watery eggnog mix, a stupid blow-up reindeer and that Jethro Tull Christmas album,” but, after 108 years, the Nobel party is far guiltier.
For one, I cannot understand why anyone would want to throw an awards show where everyone knows who has already won – it’s like going to a Detroit Lions game. Where’s the pre-manufactured drama? Nominate Barack Obama, Kofi Annan, Bono and some dissident from China, add some free-flowing Grey Goose, and put all their faces on the screen as some former model from a developing country who’s still got it reads off the winner “of this year’s Nobel Peace Prize” and, trust me, sparks will fly.
Who knows if you’ll get a Sean Penn shout out to Mickey Rourke-esque display of bro-love among fellow competitors, or if you’ll get an Adrien Brody getting all worked up and smooching Halle Berry-esque display of ready-made-for-the-camera passion.
Also, why is there only one stage for an awards ceremony? All Nobel prizes aren’t created equally. And to suggest that some dweeb from Baltimore who looks like she carpools with my Mom for my little sister’s softball league deserves to share the same stage as the greatest man ever just because she discovered “how chromosomes are protected by telomeres and the enzyme telomerase,” is the equivalent to saying that some geekoid from Hong Kong who won the Oscar for the Best Animated Short Film deserves to share the same stage as Cher.
Without different stages, would we ever have been fortunate to hear Kanye’s awesome 2007 backstage meltdown – the second episode in his VMA meltdown trilogy? The answer is no. Celebrities are meant to break down and make fools of themselves, but they need our help to do this. Secret cameras, aggressive paparazzi and shows dedicated to handing out meaningless awards are our duty, as mere mortals, to provide for them as our Gods. Consider a convenant, like animal sacrifaces or circumcision.
I am not sure what about celebrity the Nobel Committee has such a hard time understanding, but they need a little tutorial. Hell, someone could make a show about it – “Party Makeover: Nobel Edition” – and air it between “What Not to Wear” and “Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style.” Not to brag, but I’ve already done half of their work for them.
One final thing, I heard that E! does not even broadcast guests arriving on the red carpet. If that doesn’t say lame I should tell you that the name of that Finnish guy who won the peace prize last year is Martti Ahtisaari – I know, total loser, right?

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