Monday, March 06, 2006
Monday Lite: Pimps Up, Hos Down
Well. Blogger more or less fnorked access to the Bucket for most of the morning. I'm going to pretend that's why nobody had anything to say about my highly detailed Sunday night Oscar recap and not just because it was lame.
The Oscars are an important cultural event in that the movie that wins Best Picture automatically and irrevocably changes society immediately to reflect its themes and its point of view. Remember after Shakespeare in Love won and everyone all of a sudden started wearing doublets and lisping? We were all on our way to finally--FINALLY!--returning the word "sirrah" to widespread public use when American Beauty won the next year and we all dropped that nonsense in favor of trying, as a nation, to have an inappropriate sexual relationship with Mena Suvari.
Don't pretend you don't remember.
With that in mind, I give you all this year's REAL Oscar Winners & Losers.
The shock defeat of Brokeback Mountain frustrated friends of the genus Ovis everywhere. This movie about two sheep-herding men who decide, on a cold mountain night, to bugger each other rather than their companion sheep could have single-handedly saved human-herded sheep from all sorts of man-imposed indignities for at least a generation. Guys would have looked to their herd-partners first for a bit of comfort on the long, lonely trail--or at least they would have had the idea implanted by the film and considered it before chasing after a sheep. Besides, a dude you only have to TALK into bed. A sheep you more have to sort of catch and then wrestle. Maybe tie it up and then prop it against something. Anyway, the point is that sheep COULD have gone through their whole lives unsullied on their way to fulfilling their ultimate destiny, to become gyros.
Winner: Racism, the non-expression of.
Now that Crash has won, I predict people will become much more racially sensitive, understanding what their words and actions mean in a wide social context, learning to express themselves with a more nuanced and cosmopolitan sensitivity. We will all hold hands in a field of wildflowers while singing songs praising the healing power of not only cinema but also of an unnamed carbonated caramel-colored syrup beverage. Or at least the movie will make us so uncomfortable that we'll just pretend race doesn't exist in order to avoid the awkwardness.
Until next year when Steve Martin's The Pink Panther wins and we'll be all about Francophilia and mustaches. You heard it here first.
This post on the Narcissus Scale: 3.1