The PreGame

"And the Emmy goes to …”

The “wrong” nominee. Or “Mad Men.” Or both.

It’s how the Emmy awards always seem to work. Viewers watch television and inevitably grow fond of shows as well as the actors and actresses who play the shows’ characters. Given the weekly nature of TV, viewers grow more attached to “their” shows than they do film, and steadfastly believe their favorites are the best of the media.

So many people remember the where. I remember the what, or rather, what not.

Sure, I remember the where, too. When I found out about the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, I was in Ms. Carl’s fifth-period business law class on one of my first days of high school. That memory is indelible.

But the thing I remember so much more passionately is what I felt: that I didn’t know what to feel. I was born after the Challenger explosion; I had never experienced such a macro-tragedy before.

One might expect my Labor Day column to be about the following:

• The logistics of the perfect cookout with an addendum on why the Monday-inclusive three-day weekend is vastly superior to the Friday-inclusive variety.

• The return of football, even if it would only be three rows of photos of me doing somersaults and attempting cartwheels.

• Stipulation on what Beyonce will name her recently announced first-born (I’m picking “Carl” as my dark horse).

I am living a second grader’s worst nightmare.

Picture me as a child in early December. I walk into school on a Friday, smile at my teacher and sit at my desk, prepared to start the last day of the week, one week closer to the holiday.

My teacher, Mr. Editor, says, “Okay, Andy, let’s start our lesson. Please open your textbook to page Santa Claus is dead, but don’t worry, there’s still going to be a wine festival.”

Ice is a dish best served cold.

This might seem obvious, but it’s something we often take for granted — until a hot September cookout when, halfway through a cocktail, it suddenly isn’t. Anyone who has sipped the sorry remnants of a diluted, lukewarm gin and tonic knows what I’m talking about.

But what can you do? The sky is blue. The sun is hot. Ice melts in a drink.

Unless it’s “gourmet” ice. Then it’s less of a problem.

Alice Cooper should have written a song about returning to the classroom.

“Schooooooooooooool’s! Back! For! Autumn!”

While it would go against everything Alice really stood for, a song about the First Day of School could be just as charged as the one he wrote about the Last. The song would lack the glee a student feels upon liberation, but would have plenty of emotions to draw from.

Why?

Because for a student, the First Day of School is one of the most exciting days of the year, and one that is almost never replicated later in life.

MTV turned 30 this week. A number of people have told me that makes them feel old.

I have responded to that by saying, “I don’t know, it’s been around longer than I have.” A number of people have told me that makes it worse.

To avoid any more looks of disdain, I’ll stop there. But there’s a fairly interesting subtext here: MTV means something different to me than it does to people who have been around since its inception.

Thirty-six years ago, the giant shark in “Jaws” kept scores of people out of the water who would stay on the safe haven of the beach. On Sunday, giant sharks will keep scores of people out of the water, but — in a more fitting hey-this-is-society-these-days kind of way — these folks will stay on the safe haven of their couch.

If you’re looking for something new to try this weekend, perhaps consider lying down.

Face down.

On a strange object or place. (Think the hood of the General Lee, not a towel on the beach.) Then, have a friend take a picture with a smartphone or iPad 2 or (gasp) a camera. And when you have the picture, upload it to the Internet and share it with friends.

This is the phenomenon known as “planking.”

And it’s ... fun?

The Dark Lord Voldemort has more in common with Darth Vader than white and shrively skin, a distinct way of breathing and the voice of James Earl Jones. (No? Not the last one? Oh well.)

Both are physical manifestations of evil and the ultimate antagonists in their respective generations’ greatest pop culture phenomena.