Da Oscars

I actually watched pretty much the entire show last night – well, Bill and I did flip back and forth a bit between a quite humorous comedy on the Spanish station where the bleeped out words were scribbled out with what appeared to be marker in the subtitles – and yeah, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, the Oscars. They were pretty neat I guess. Hugh Jackman managed to stave off annoyance for the most part; Ben Stiller delighted people for whom the Joaquin Phoenix meme is still funny (not I, said the worm); Queen Latifah had her auto-tune solo over pictures of dead people; the Man on Wire dude momentarily thawed my cynicism; Sean Penn dissed a bunch of people’s grandkids while Mickey pretended to be happy for him; the Best Picture award was announced as my ass – who hadn’t seen one of them – stared apathetically (with a shade more scorn for Benjamin Button, for whose screenwriter needs to be further punished for giving to world Forrest Gump oh so many years ago); and Tina and Steve made me smile (seriously dude, do a movie with Tina and Tyler Durden the part of your personality that makes you do shit like The Pink Panther and that movie where you have a bunch of kids or something!).

K, I’ll attempt a little more focus (I was up late, please bless the mess that is my brain today!):

The freaking kumbaya-ass tributes to the nominated actors and actresses, WTF…
Who on earth wants to watch a bunch of rich artists get their ego’s rub-and-tugged by other rich artists in some creepy prayer circle of feigned admiration? Show me a clip of them doing their job so I can see the work for which they are nominated. These awkward masturbatory gestures took 4 times as long as the normal way of doing it and have no relevance to anyone outside of the people in that hall. They are nominated for doing something artistic, show it to us!

K, I need more coffee. Tired ranty Mafoo out!

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