Two things have returned from the dead, THE MUNG HOUR and the massive sucking sound of Hollywood ego, as it roared onto our TV sets this past Sunday, following the rain and thunder of LA's Storm Watch 2014! The aeronautics community's uproar over Gravity's Sandra Bullock in her tight little Ellen Ripley panties instead of Depends is relevant, as we all could have used adult diapers watching hour upon hour of last night's Oscar telecast. The show was nearly as long as Frodo Baggins' farewell to the Hobbits. Offering a safe, pedestrian and soporific evening, we must applaud Ellen DeGeneres for hosting the stage alongside those damn ghosts of Oscar hosting past. (If you look closely and squint, you can see a few who photo-bombed her selfie.)
The highlight of the night (and yes it is like picking on the disabled kid) was everyone's favorite dead badger-wearing Sweathog, John Travolta. We applaud him for introducing to the stage, the newest toast of the Palestinian pop scene, Adele Dazeem.
Known for her keen observation, the always sensitive-to-discrimination Mrs. Portia De Rossi righteously called out a party-crashing female impersonator, who was taken into custody at the break. It's bad enough security allowed a potential Islamic terrorist like Adele Dazeem to perform onstage, but this oversight was intolerable. So, we're glad this helmet-headed sham artist in blue is now undergoing the CIA's notorious Clockwork Orange torture of enduring all three Transformers movies in one sitting.
Roses are red, Oscars
are gold,
But plastic is always
reserved for the old.
It's hard not to
notice those under the knife,
But look at the
crowd, it's a lot of folks' life.
And though it's all
easy to gawk and to stare,
Kim's face ain't got
nothin' on Matthew's hair.
Last night's
awards ran the gambit of science-fiction to slavery to brutal cold
and flagrant greed, just like a Weinstein
Company staff meeting. Yet the list of winners seemed fairly by-the-numbers. Despite
the variety of nominees, the non-stop siege of awards shows like the S.A.G.
Awards and the Golden Globes tend to make the Oscars a bit like the hotel room
after prom night. You've already spent a fortune on the tux, dress, flowers and
dinner that it's a forgone conclusion you're gonna get lucky after the dance.
The only real surprise of the night seemed to be an endless parade of
Gravity-defying love that crashed like Sandra's escape pod as a film about
America's dark history took home the big prize.
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It
was a sad night for bigots, racists, and Bible-thumpers
when heads exploded in Texas, Arizona and other red states as they watched a
Mexican, a black man named Steve McQueen, and two hot leading men portraying
AIDS patients take home Oscars. Our hearts go out to them all, and we can only
hope that Kirk Cameron can be up there on stage someday praising the Lord
above, instead of that traitorous Texan, Matthew McConaughey.
Speaking of Matt, while he thanked nearly everyone including his childhood hero, himself, and his future hero, himself, he regretfully forgot to thank his day-to-day hero, himself. Fortunately, at the post-awards press conference, he heaped deserving praise on his shadow.
Speaking of Matt, while he thanked nearly everyone including his childhood hero, himself, and his future hero, himself, he regretfully forgot to thank his day-to-day hero, himself. Fortunately, at the post-awards press conference, he heaped deserving praise on his shadow.
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Jared
Leto does it junior-high style in his
bid to win Anne Hathaway's affections.
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Oscar's
Wall of Death struck the right cords and perfectly timed the bathroom break for
the audience and viewers with the vomitous
Bette Midler, performing that song which
was officially banned from ever being sung by maids-of-honors at weddings
again.
The
"Burt Reynolds Award For Looking the Most Pissed-Off At Not Winning"
goes to Leo, who took out his disappointment at the Vanity Fair after party, by
re-enacting the opening scene of Wolf of Wall Street for charity, kind of like
a kissing booth. Yeah, kind of like that.
The
winners for Best Makeup were impressed to learn that Samuel L. Jackson is the
"What's in your pants?"guy from the commercials.
We cheered as the blonde wonder from Down Under finally won a Best Actress Oscar. Even more impressive has how she nearly hid the fact that scarfing lunch at Hometown Buffet after 3pm was a terrible idea.
And
Harrison Ford wow'd the crowd by
breaking his own Guinness Record for the biggest bong hit followed by the
longest exhalation of Best Picture nominees in one breath.
