So last night was the Oscars. Funny night, man. The oscar red carpet is such a bizarre phenomenon, because it marks the only place on earth where the true confluence of total success and barely, BARELY realizing any semblance of your dream occur. Here’s what I mean: Out of everyone who’s ever wanted to entertain anyone in movies or television, the Oscars are a show for those few who have risen to the tippity top of the heap. And there, waiting for the stars on the red carpet, holding microphones, are the people who just BARELY squeaked in at the buzzer. “celeb correspondents” are the lowest form of journalistic/entertainment life that there is. It’s the field where failed actors, failed models, failed legitimate journalists and newscasters and various dumb bimbos and himbos who have sucked an influential dick or two go to congeal before teeth whitening, barfing and tanning some more.
On oscar day, these two groups face off on the red carpet. It’s fucking hilarious. These parasitic ‘journalists’ are more botoxed and wild-eyed and giddy than the stars that they’re interviewing/being catty about/terribly jealous of/veterans of the same acting coach as, and they stand there and smile and shout asinine questions to some of the most self important dickheads in the entire world, every single one of which looks terribly uncomfortable.
This is the revenge. This is where Joey Fatone, Mellissa Rivers and Juliana Rancic get their revenge for not having sustainable careers as thespians or entertainers. They’re stuck on the backs of the beasts, eating the barnacles out of the flappity back skin of Julia Roberts and Kate Winslet. So, throughout the year they have these cheaply produced shows that star Mario lopez most of the time, and they sit there and they act like snippy cunts when they see Gerard Butler (whoever the fuck that is) in sweatpants at the safeway, but then, that one special day comes and they’re all there; the stars and the turds, almost in a cage match, surrounded by screaming fans. It’s the pathetic-barely-clinging-to-the-dream-of-being-entertainers versus the self-important-dipshit-actor-who-keeps-getting-told-how-important-he/she-is-despite-the-fact-that-he/she’s-just-an-actor-and-really-isn’t-important-at-all.
Suddenly, these celeb bots are screaming “who are you wearing?” and “Steve Carell!!! Come here! Brendan Kelly from E news! Just a few questions! Please! PLEASE STEVEN!!!!!! Thanks so much. I’m here with Steve Carell on the red carpet. Good to see you.” Silence. “Okay, well, I think the question everyone wants the answer to tonight is of course…um…How’s your night so far?”
This is really the level of journalism on the red carpet. For real. “Anyone you’re looking forward to seeing?” “Actually, yes, Brendan. I’ve heard that Mary J Blige is going to stuff a stillborn kitten into her pussy right before the dead celebrity montage. That’s something I’m gonna try to not be in the bathroom doing blow during.”
It’s a magical night, to be sure. Tinsel, lights, crazy old jewish ladies bum rushing documentarians and showing off the full effect of nine martinis and a speech impediment. Um, lots of people breathing really heavily. Lots of cheering and tears and so much fucking self importance. I mean, did you people watch this thing yesterday?
How about that whole rigmarole with the ‘best actor/actress’ category? I mean, these people are, not to put too fine a point on this, MOVIE STARS already. That means they get plenty of attention, money and adoration from the world as is. Now we’ve got a show where they can get awards. Fine. I’ll buy that. But then, they’ve got them just standing out there at the beginning in this sort of “look at these magnificent examples of cipher-artistry! This is the new pantheon of gods for the week” situation. AND THEN!!!! AND THEN they get their friends out there to just kind of talk each one of them up? What the fuck is that? “Oh, morgan freeman, totally good dude. Great actor. I’m pullin for you buddy!” said Tim Robbins (I’m paraphrasing a little). Do they need that last extra bit of dick suckery? Do they? They’re there, millionaires, sitting at a prestigious event being honored for essentially playing a childs game really well and THESE eight or so people have been picked as the top 8 for the year, and even then they need a further little editorial about how rad they are? God. Not since the AVN awards have so many people gotten their dicks sucked simply for getting their dicks sucked.
Oh, and I gotta wonder, do you guys think that Precious girl is gonna lose a foot, go blind or have a heart attack first? That’s about as unhealthy as a person can be and still be walking around, innit?
Finally, one question that was plaguing my friends and I last night: Cuba Gooding Jr. was at one time a respected, and some would even argue great actor. He won the best supporting actor oscar for Jerry McGuire which was pretty cool, if for no other reason than his career trajectory kind of was set up to mimic the purported trajectory of his character’s, with the oscar standing in for the great recovery from the brutal tackle. Still with me? Okay, so as we all know, Cuba Gooding Jr. ended up making a movie with CGI sled dogs and one where he and Horatio Sands end up on a gay cruise…not exactly oscar winner shit. It’s probably the worst plunge ever in acting. Is there a person or group that has done this in any other entertainment discipline? Fallen from the absolute TOP of the world to total ridicule? People who stop, or fade away don’t count. I’m talking about the total plunge. I’d offer that Metallica is close, but they’re still HUGE, so that’s not quite right. Axl Rose is closer, but he’s too odd and still kind of respected in a howard Hughes kind of way a little bit. It’s like, if Vanilla Ice’s first record had been a masterpiece, his decent to juggalodom would be right on target for the Cuba Gooding trajectory, but he kind of started out as a joke. I leave it to you, dogs of war? Who’s the Cuba Gooding Jr of music (or anything, for that matter)? Keep in mind, if they weren’t SUPER famous and successful, they don’t count. So ska bands and dumb shit like that don’t count, kay? This isn’t a time to show off your knowledge of the obscure. Got it? Good. Have a good Monday.