The Oscars are the Absolute Greatest…….

……..pile of shit television awards show known to man. Are those people serious? Yes they are, because they get their pompous panties in a ruffle every time an unserious person like Seth McFarlane points out what smug, self-important fart quaffers they all are. You make fucking movies, for the sole purpose of entertaining people so they can tune out of life for 2 hours. You do not cure cancer. You do not solve world problems. You don’t broker peace deals. You don’t even deliver pizza. We’re acutely aware that the world is such that you are paid preposterous sums of money for your work and congratulations on hitting that lottery. It doesn’t make you important. It makes you visible. And for some reason it makes you interesting to most, to the point they tune in in droves to watch you collectively shit from the mouth and congratulate each other for one night each year like you all just saved the universe from AIDS, asteroids, the Dark Side, conservatives and Christians. You did no such thing–rather you made a movie about a boy and a wild tiger in a hurricane. Whoopty fucking doo. I love movies, and I especially love great movies. But I don’t give a shit about you, what dress some other pompous bitch made for you to walk across the mythical Red Carpet on, or anything you have to say about how important Steven Spielberg is to the salvation and continuance of the human race. What amazes is how bent out of shape these oblivious assholes become when someone like Seth McFarlane calls them out for their pretentious grandiosity. Everyone is suddenly stern, deadly serious, and downright offended as he sings a really funny tune which lists numerous current and attending actresses who have shown their boobs in movies. It was absolutely hilarious. Yet there they sit trying to glare Seth to death, despite the fact that you SHOWED YOUR FUCKING TITS IN A MOVIE. It happened. The director asked, you said “yes”. Your tits. Seen. By millions. Lay in the bed you made, get past your overblown sense of self-worth, and fucking laugh you twit.  Take Clooney’s lead. Sure, he’s got smug covered from all angles himself, but when Seth McFarlane tosses him an airplane bottle of booze because everyone knows he parties, he doesn’t even laugh and sets straight to opening the sauce.

On and on we listen to one congratulatory speech after another from either a beautiful person who hit the lotto or an uber-creepy Jewish guy with long wispy gray hair who looks like some high school kids dressed up a vagrant in a tuxedo as some sort of prank. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Before anyone says “why didn’t you just turn the TV off then, asshole?”, they need to remember how TV viewing choices work in a household. You can watch what your wife wants to watch, or you can watch what you want to watch and be miserable. There are no other choices in the known universe when you are a man with a spouse or significant other. So you sit and watch The Fucking Oscars and you seethe in your chair and wonder about why if God is a kind, loving God, he would create a universe where drivel on this level is celebrated as though somehow regal. And even deeper, on a primal level, you want to know–no, you NEED to know–what in the mcmutherfuck has Leonardo DiCaprio done to these asshats that he is roundly rejected each and every year despite being one of the best to have ever lived at this profession. Not to mention being devilishly goddamned handsome. Why??? Have you ever seen “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape”? Let me see someone, anyone else, sell retarded better than he did. The only conclusion I can draw is that he has nailed the wife or girlfriend of every A-List member of Hollywood brass and they pull strings to keep him off the winner’s stand. A travesty. But I expect nothing less from garbage of this magnitude. Just keep farting Hollywood, you know we’ll all be inhaling deeply.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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One Response to The Oscars are the Absolute Greatest…….

  1. Matthew says:

    Thank you.
    Thank you, thank you, thank you.
    I’ve read three other of your posts and can only say “Thank You.”

    I’m 50, was in the Navy for 6, then went to U of Md (I did graduate), and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, except that I want to write a rant like you.

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