It’s a respect issue, is what it is.

Of the Grammy nominees in the two major categories this year (Album of the Year and Song of the Year), I can’t say I have any respect for the artistic credibility of any of the artists or songs. I may dance to “All the Single Ladies” like the rest of the world or sing-along with Taylor Swift in the hopes that she’ll one day appreciate my knowledge of her music and marry me, but this is nothing more than Pop music, and Pop music isn’t art.

The major award shows should award art. Honoring someone like Lady Gaga at the Grammy’s is the equivalent of the Oscar’s awarding Best Picture to Twilight and handing over Best Actor and Actress to Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart. The popular stuff should win its hardware at the People’s Choice or MTV award shows.

At the Academy Awards, I have the utmost respect for the nominees because they are examples of art. If you watch a film nominated for Best Picture, you will walk away influenced by an artist’s perception of the world; it may even be powerful enough to force you to reconsider your own perception. No one who listened to “Poker Face” on the radio for the first time found his or herself in the middle of an existential crisis, contemplating some new element of life never before considered.

You probably don’t care if your personal choice of music is considered artistic. Neither do I. It makes no difference to me what the Grammy’s recognize as long as it has integrity. Just the same, a lot of people aren’t fans of Oscar-nominated films, but we’re still not going to see The Ugly Truth make a run at any categories this year.

I know people won’t appreciate my assessment of the music industry. “Who cares if it’s art or not?” you’ll ask as you whip a tomato at me. I know it sounds like it, but I’m not a music snob by any means. In fact, I hate people seriously discussing music as much as people must hate hearing me critique a movie for its on-the-nose dialogue. However, I still know that the cultural implications of recognizing Lady Gaga as a marquee artist of our time is terrifying and shameful.

We look back on the music of our parents and find lyrical gems like Bob Dylan: “How does it feel? To be on your own/ With no direction home/ Like a complete unknown/ Like a rolling stone.” That has meaning. That is art because it connects people through a common understanding of the human condition the same as a novel, poem, or film may. When our kids look back on the “respected” music of our time, they’ll be judging us on these brilliant words:

“I won’t tell you that I love you
Kiss or hug you
Cause I’m bluffin’ with my muffin
I’m not lying I’m just stunnin’ with my love-glue-gunnin’.”

While that’s sinking in, I’m going to Urban Dictionary to find out how one bluffs with their muffin, and if it’s ever been done to me. I’m pretty sure I’m hoping that’s a no.