Now, gentle reader, you may be wondering, “Why even bother scraping together some low-rating bit of TV pus to honor shows that peaked three years ago or have always been kind of crappy?” And gentle reader, in that overlong query, you’ve got yourself a point. Some things we can already tell about this year’s Emmys: True Blood will never get the love it deserves; Weeds will be rewarded for turning in what’s so far been a lackluster fifth season; somehow CSI and Law & Order will sew up all the guest starring awards even if that one may actually deserve to go to Weeds, or more specifically to Jennifer Jason Leigh for her work as Bitchface; one of the Desperate Housewives will get a nomination for Best Actress nomination even though with the exception of Felicity Huffman, they’re no more talented than any of the girls on Gossip Girl; and Mad Men and Breaking Bad will be handed a grab-bag of nominations based on their performance at last year’s Emmys. But enough bad news. The silver lining on all this is that this year, Neil Patrick Harris could be pulling hosting duties. Swoon!

Tori Spelling, for all her time on this sinking planet, has done very little good. So before we tie her to rafters and gather to heckle her with beets for her ruinous contributions to the already-crumbling world of children’s literature, let’s fondly recall the good times. As few as they were. Like when she guested on Smallville as a non-journalist with a vicious mean streak. Or when she gave us a woefully short-lived, camptastic comedy in the vein of Curb Your Enthusiasm. 

Last week, America cried and cried and boy did she really just let those waterworks go, more than that time I sat through The Memory Keeper’s Daughter on Lifetime. But with reason, because with losses like this and this aren’t to be weathered easily independently, let alone together. And within hours of each other too. So how is America handling such grief?

Because sex sells! And you’ll recall Ugly Betty may need something just short of a Zachary Quinto bukkake outtake to roll out from under the axe of cancellation when it returns this fall. But more importantly, who wants to actually see Betty going nose-to-nose with a real-life Ugly Betty like Susan Boyle? Anyone? Anyone? No? Not even you guys, studio bigwigs? Hm. Well then. What about a prince of modern gay erotica who forked over $18,000 to appear on the flagging soap?

Some time ago, Gossip Girl’s Leighton Meester embarked on something of a spiritual journey through pop music. Her traipse down the worn actress-turned-singer path turned up a few gems, including a cover of “Bette Davis Eyes”, this other cover originally by this band, and a curious little electro-pop romp titled “Good Girls Go Bad,” where she shares singing credits with Cobra Starship—but not until about 1:31 into the song. Just yesterday, the video surfaced onto the web. It features such Gossip Girl-ish things as salacious texts, drinking from flasks, some blokes in white-framed spectacles (I think they’re the Starship), subterranean bacchanalia, and of course Queen B casting her signature ice queen glare now and again. Video after the jump.

One of the world’s crueler injustices is how Mariah Carey ends up more noted for her wardrobe malfunctions than for her skills as a highly proficient satirist in the vein of British greats like P.G Wodehouse. But this shouldn’t strike you as a surprise. This is the same dazzling force who previously made glib, incisive commentary on the human condition out of horseback riding and a day trip to a carnival. Her latest jab at highbrow humor? Dressing up in drag!

Grief! Anguish! Confusion! Ire? Well sure—if you’re any number of pop aspirants or B-list pop idols seriously gunning for a comeback, Michael Jackson’s untimely death may be something of a nuisance. As seen from a number of trends on iTunes sales charts across the world, the King’s death has derailed the usual goings-on in some countries, while in others, his presence remains detectable, but not so earth-shattering.

Look, world. I know we’re still mourning the loss of the man responsible for some of the greatest innovations to strike pop music, apart from the Puppini Sisters’ rediscovery of close harmonies. But that doesn’t mean you can throw good taste to the wind and run around issuing clumsily worded statements that really have no bearing on the State of Things as We Know It. Those which especially won’t help sell a few more copies of your crappy fitness DVD. I’m glaring at you, Kim Kardashian. And your empty proclamations of love.

There was never doubt that Michael Jackson’s pop rule influenced almost every pop song slapped together from a certain point onward. An industrious soul has taken it upon himself to map out prominent artists who have sampled from the King of Pop’s discography. The results are intriguing—while likely culprits such as Rihanna and Jay-Z appear, so do less likely musical forces like Björk, whose ”I Go Humble” sampled MJ’s ”Wanna Be Startin’ Something.”

So yesterday, after news broke of the King of Pop’s passing, I turned to my 8-year-old cousin and asked if she knew who Michael Jackson was. She looked at me wide-eyed, confused for a brief moment, then flatly said, “No.” I probably would have been more disturbed if she had answered, “Miley Cyrus,” when I later asked her who her favorite singer was. But regardless, I was still a little unnerved. Jackson’s death signals the end of an era of icons as we know it. Or rather, the beginning of such an end. My little cousin’s growing up in a very just-add-water age of pop commodities, where she’ll never be able to cover her walls with the posters of girl groups and boy bands without being pressured to do so by American Idol, Nickelodeon, or the Disney Channel. Gone is Michael Jackson’s moonwalk, Freddie Mercury’s bad-ass aplomb, and even En Vogue’s inimitable moxie. And I’m concerned. Not only for her, but for generations that’ll come after—and not know a world populated with bonafide idols and icons. It’s safe to say that yes, with the King’s death, America is now not only in mourning, but also in crisis.