Oh, Mary...

I got to watch the Emmy's (yay!)-- repeated on E! this afternoon. Not quite my sofa-surfing, pj kinda day, but better than nothing! It was run of the mill... I'd say the sharing of the hosting duties among the reality tv nominated hosts was a poor decision. No surprises, and even a bit dull at times (although, I will admit, that this might be because I have not watched television most of the year because of my wayfaring... or, homelessness, depending on how you want to look at it...). So, instead of focusing on who wore what, who won what and who did what, I thought I'd draw your attention to the Joan Rivers syndrome.

She was everywhere-- and yet, nowhere (or, maybe she's somewhere-- is TV Guide still a channel? Does she still have a gig there?). In the audience: a producer's wife; on stage: a writer; in front of the mic: Mary Tyler Moore.

Mary Tyler Moore?

Oh, yes. That Hollywood plastic surgeon has obviously been working overtime. As much as it pains me to criticize one of the queens of comedy, it's true. She has Joan Rivers' face. Or, at least her cheekbones.

It was made ever-more obvious by Betty White standing beside her onstage in all her 80-year old, natural beauty. Good old Betty White.

Maybe if I were under that sort of scrutiny-- or pressure, I might think differently of having Joan Rivers' face... well, actually... no...