This story appears in TheWrap's EmmyWrap Reality Issue.
"Suck it, Jesus, this award is my God now!!"
Ahh, still rolls off my tongue with the ease and dignity of a true double Emmy Award winner. (Take that, Jon Hamm.)
Two days after I delivered that speech in 2007, the phone calls started coming in. Most folks were offended, or didn’t know I was joking. One of the calls was from my late, great pal, superagent Sue Mengers.
Actually, my current stand-up agent, Steve Levine at ICM, called me and said, "I have a fax for you from Sue Mengers. Do you know who she is?" I knew exactly who she was. If you don’t know, look it up. Don’t be a douchebag.
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Sue said, "Anyone who tells Jesus to ‘suck it’ during an Emmy acceptance speech deserves a seat at my table." So for all the fake Hollywood trouble I got in at the Emmys that year, I ended up experiencing an environment with her that was very far from the D-List.
My dirty little secret is I wasn’t really on the D-List anymore. I feel like kind of a self-aggrandizing a-hole even saying that, but hey, I’m keeping it realz. My Emmys reality is that my reality show "Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List" earned a nomination all six years it was on the air. My little dog-and-pony show somehow beat out ABC’s big-budget, widely successful (and by the way, awesome show) "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition."
I also wasn’t your typical reality villain — I never ripped off a bitch’s weave on my show, except maybe mine. Trust me, I love to make fun of the Housewives, the Kardashians and the Little Chocolatiers as much as the next guy. However, reality shows, when done well, do hold up to the best television has to offer.
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Wrap readers and industry snobs, remember "Survivor" Season 1 captivating the entire nation and garnering two Time magazine covers? Or for today’s crop, IMHO, "Ke$ha: My Crazy Beautiful Life" stacks up against any super-cool '70s-style rock-doc out there. It’s unscripted and shows us another side of this hard-working pop star, which I find to be as compelling as any scripted character in a single camera half-hour or hour.
Apparently, she only enjoys banging dudes with beards while agonizing over how to write the catchiest of catchy tunes while sticking her naked butt out her tour-bus window after a few too many drinky-drinks. I’m in for every episode.
I received a great compliment from "How I Met Your Mother" star Alyson Hannigan, who told me something I’ll never forget at the (and I say this with love, Jeffrey) "Night Before" Jeffrey Katzenberg Shit Fest. She said, "You know, Kathy, you’ve done something quite clever. You’re just doing a sitcom dressed up as a reality show." My point is: Reality as a genre is only as good as we make it.
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(Oh, and P.S., Jeffrey: I know you’ll probably have one of your "readers" send you that shit-fest line out of context, but you should know several celebrities refer to your party as "The Katzenberg Shit Fest" only because there are a shitload of famous people there.)