Even if the cancellation of the Golden Globes and its satellite parties had been precipitated by nuclear, rather than labor, Armageddon, you could be sure that a radioactive, iridescent army of swag suite staffers would still be roaming the smoldering Hollywood hellscape, distributing designer jeans, sunglasses, and coupons redeemable for full-body laser-resurfacing procedures to any semi-recognizable survivors of the blast. Though gifting professionals initially feared that the sober...
