Well, another year gone and another bloody speech I didn’t get to make at the bloody Oscars.
I don’t know, it’s all a tad irritating, isn’t it? I mean, how many ceremonies have I got left in me? You know, some of the key people I need to thank might be among the departed if I faff around much longer.
Let’s face it, my own personal little screenplay – my, y’know, “jooourney” – is actually unreeling in a very UN-Hollywood way. I should have been up there – F-A-C-T – years ago. People say that my dear pal from the neighborhood Marty (Legendary director Martin Scorsese to you lot) – has waited too long, that it was his turn, his night. Well, screw that, you muthas. What about ME? Where’s my little friggin’ gold man and goodie bag of diamonds?
To cap my disappointment, I’ve just read an acceptance speech online in MY category only to discover that some nobody bloke from Nowheresville has only gone and nicked the name of my lead character. Hmmm. There’s only so much I shall take.
OK, enough. I’ll take a chill pill, rise above it all. The Oscars, what a hoot. I feel obliged to stop by, blog-style, and acknowledge “the most glamorous night in the whole-wide-world”. I only dipped in with an hour – OK, OK, I’ll admit to two – on the “E” Channel. I was expecting to see that insufferable idiot Ruby Twatx presenting. Yes, she with the poorly pirated copy of a sense of humour. Imagine my relief to see she wasn’t there – I was able to remove the iron grill I always put across the screen when she is on to deflect the bottles of Bud – so I stayed. Ryan Wotshisname from American Idol was very good. The right pitch. And that gazing gay guy (or as Hero of the Hour Marty would label, “that fockin’ faggot” – a disgusting term I would never validate) was mesmerizing. It was like watching a fully camped up, 21st Century, politically corrected Action Man having his voice cord pulled every once in a while. His occasional side-kick was a bag of bones in a red dress hoping to grow up one day to be a Size 0.
Anyway, I’ve gotta dash, I have parties to go to. I have decided to give it all a wide berth next year. As any self-respecting, lying celebrity will tell you, it is all trivial nonsense … until of course you are nominated. Yes, I’m staying away, like Sean Penn. He boldly said, “The Oscars? I’d be embarrassed to be there.” Until of course, he totally milked his standing ovation for Mystic River a few years later. Cooool.
Right, back to my speech … am I out of time? Can I just say a few Thank Yous? Pleeease. Most of all, I’d like to thank the one person who has stood by me through all the years of struggle blogging about the speech I didn’t get to make about the book that didn’t get published and then didn’t get made into that great movie starring…
Blub-bloody-blub.