Nothing But Rants
Telling you why things suck since 2012. A Cliff Reinitz blog.

The Obligatory Oscar Post

So it happens that I watched the Oscars last night.  And there’s a lot I could rant about.

Why did Billy Crystal look like he was popping Vicodin backstage just to get through the evening?  Why did Viola Davis not get an Oscar?  Why did Oprah Winfrey get one?  Who cares about Jonah Hill’s opinion on why films are important?  Did Whitney Houston really merit such a prominent placement in the whole “parade of dead people” segment?  Why can’t some of those winners speak any damn English?  Who in America thinks Melissa McCarthy is funny?  How the hell was Jason Segel not thanked for a performance that made a silly, stupid little song into an Oscar winner?

I could rant on all those things.  But you know what, I’m not going to.

Instead, I’m going to rant about the people who are ranting about those things.  Shut up, morons.

Seriously, is it such a shock that the Oscars gives us so much to complain about?  We all know that most of the people haven’t even seen half the films they’re voting on.  We all know that for everyone who’s not nominated, the only reason that they’re there is to pick up a little red carpet love.  We all know the speeches are mostly going to be bad, the awkward and poorly-delivered jokes will make us want to hear more speeches, and that the event is going to run long.  That’s what happens.  EVERY YEAR.

Last night’s ceremony was actually pretty okay.  Crystal was bland, but he was so far ahead of James Franco that it wasn’t funny.  And things kept moving along…I think they only finished eight minutes or so over time, which for the Oscars is positively perfect.  It’s not often that the Oscars doesn’t produce any outrage for whatever reasons, but when everyone agrees that Sacha Baron Cohen was a dick to Ryan Seacrest and no one cares about Billy Crystal in blackface, there’s just no place to mine controversy.  The slam dunk contest at the NBA All-Star Weekend actually had less entertainment value this year than the Oscars.

Wow.  I can’t believe I just wrote that.

And by the way, if you care about Billy Crystal in blackface, get a life and start picking on Fred Armisen and Robert Downey Jr. instead.

So if you’re complaining about the Oscars, fuck you.  You should be happy that you live in a country where millions of people can waste a whole Monday at work bitching about how bad [fill in the name of an actress who is WAY hotter than you or anyone you know] looked in that awful dress — which you couldn’t afford if you mortgaged your car, your house, and your soul, and if you could, you’d be happy to wear it, and I don’t care if you ARE a dude.  You should be happy that we’re so wealthy, and have so much comfort around us, and people are so insulated from the horrors of life, that you can actually make it a legitimate topic of conversation to debate why the Academy never gives any love to the pictures people actually go see in the big categories.  They’re just movies, people.  Maybe you should spend a year in Uganda and then see if The Artist not winning absolutely everything still matters to you.

Although I do think it’s funny that Jean Dujardin is probably going to get his passport and his citizenship revoked for saying nice things about America.

You know what, though, I will complain about one thing.  What this ceremony needed was more Ellie Kemper.  I have no idea who poured her into that dress, but on behalf of the entire straight male population (and the entire Ellen DeGeneres demographic too), thank you.  She was just about the sexiest woman there last night.  Next year, let’s have her host the Oscars.  Wearing that exact same dress.  America will thank me.

Or, you know, we could just skip the Oscars.  And we could fill up the airtime with three hours of Ellie Kemper just standing there in that dress.  I’d be totally fine with that.

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One Response to “The Obligatory Oscar Post”

  1. I should add that I also appreciate Ellie Kemper’s manifest brains, sense of comedic timing, and pleasantly approachable manner.

    But that dress. DAMN, girl!


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