Shameless Hucksterism And Misinformation Hosted By Davy Jones Of "The Monkees"

Watch the following 11 second video clip, and pay no attention to what Davy Jones says. Focus on the fine print.

This program is a recreation of an awards presentation.

It is no such thing. This program is a fictional, simulated, meaningless, mindless travesty of an awards presentation. And I am sorry to say it was my idea.

No, I'm not making this up. I wish I were. Together with an unnamed colleague (whose legions of fans would be shocked and saddened to learn of his participation) I wrote the script for this... this.. infomercial.

There. I've said it.

Not that the producers actually used the script. It was thoroughly and completely cut, gutted and rewritten until each sentence, each utterance, had achieved the grammatical and logical perfection of, for example, "I know you want to be a part of it... we all were."

I would suggest this enigmatic phrase serve as epitaph on Davy Jones's tombstone, beneath which I'm sure he wished he were when this thing aired... we all were.

How would you define "dancing?" Could we agree that, generally speaking, it is the movement of the body in time with, and in response to, music? OK, then, under what circumstances would you slow down the movements of a dancer, or a group of dancers, thus severing any and all ties between the motion and the music? I heard someone in the back of the class say it... "only when there were no ties between the motion and the music to begin with." Exactly correct.

Good for you. I'm keeping these clips as short as possible, but I must warn you that the next one lasts 26 seconds.

You have just seen a mock award announced with infinitesimal excitement... and received with poorly feigned surprise. All those poor people from The Monkees Fan Club in rented tuxedos and prom dresses locked into a Philadelphia theater at 4 AM cheering the bogus award as it is bestowed yet again in take 6 - and it's my fault. My slip of the tongue. My everlasting shame.

All I said was, "Infomercials are fake TV shows. Fake cooking shows; fake talk shows. The goal is to sell old Don Kirshner music; why not create a fake "awards show" where every song included in the set is "nominated" for "an award?"

Previous half-hour music infomercials had relied on black and white stock footage, stock photos and graphics, and a gaggle of sincere amateur dancers. Why not make this one different? Why not make this one classy? "The Don Kirshner Rock Awards." WARNING: Next clip about one minute. You sure you don't want that novocaine?

As the script devolved, all of the old tried-and-true elements worked their way back in - the dreary smeary stock footage (some of which is clearly from the 50's), the mind-numbing graphics, the clumsy dancers. The "classy" opening, as shot, features a dazzling sign so glamorous that it had been previously been used to announce bake sales and tractor pulls. One limousine goes round and round the block, picking up rock n' roll superstars at the back of the building and dropping them off in front of the fifteen people who symbolize an adoring crowd at the front entrance.

My unidentified co-conspirator and I were proactive in preventing screen credit for ourselves. We were invited to the taping but escaped with our lives - if not out honor - intact.

Mr. Kirshner, Mr. Jones, Mr. Derringer, Mr. Maestro, Mr. Siegel, Mr. Cavaliere, Mr. Dante - this is the public apology for which you've waited decades. I'm sorry. We all were.

The Washington Post reported in 2004 that Don Kirshner, Upsala College's most famous graduate, currently resides in a gated community. No word regarding which of two possible functions they had in mind when they separated Kirshner from the rest of the world with that gate.