All the bald, nude gold men are lined up. All the limos gassed up. All the ‘world revolves around me’ actors and actresses are liquored up. It’s Oscar time again.
And I couldn’t care less.
I stopped caring about this twenty or so years ago, right around the time when Rob Lowe sang with Snow White. I just can’t stomach the thing anymore. Talk about navel gazing! I don’t know what bugs me more, celebrities with twisted arms patting themselves on the back with fake smiles and kisses that really aren’t kisses, or the tens of millions of Americans who sit glued to their television sets ogling over designer dresses worn by anorexics.
You know what would happen if one third of the audience decided to watch something else tonight? It’d be the end of the world as we know it.
I’m lucky this year. The show starts here in the UK around 3 AM, and I won’t have to see any part of it. After all, I’ve got something a whole lot better to do.
Not everyone feels the way I do though…