Why You Should Skip the Oscars Next Year

I had planned to write a piece about the most over-rated celebrity, but just hadn't been able to narrow it down to one. Then I saw part of the Oscars a few months ago, and I realized why I was having such difficulty: ALL of them are over-rated. And how.

As a child, the Oscars provided mild entertainment different from the typical TV fare. It served as a variety show, with somewhat honest efforts at comedy and song and dance numbers that ranged from ridiculous to ingenious. It was an entertaining diversion and a chance to see some really pretty dresses and handsome actors. And it wasn't a sitcom or God-awful movie of the week.

Maybe because I have grown older and wiser as the years have passed, but now it's just four hours worth of self-aggrandizing, celebrity-littered mutual admiration love-festing wherein only about fifteen minutes will actually be devoted to anything worthwhile, meaning anything I care about. I shouldn't complain, as it is nothing more than the awards show it was conceived to be, so what can we expect? Think of any awards banquet you have ever been to. Even if you are up for an award, the whole evening can be a major drag, except for the part when your name gets called out as a nominee. What do these awards mean anyway? How many times have you seen an actor get the Oscar, never to be heard from again? The mere fact that a one-hit wonder can land the little golden guy sort of sours the event, doesn't it? What about the people who get nominated every year, but have yet to take home the prize?

Can't we just say thanks for a great performance-maybe send a note? No, for some reason, as millions of people across the globe face starvation and war, we parade a gaggle of attention-starved, self-indulgent cretins in front of TV cameras and remind them how important they are, because they work sooooo hard. Eight million dollars just doesn't vindicate their hard work enough. They need a statue of a bald, naked man sans genitals sitting in their home to serve as proof that the world revolves around them and only them. I heard an actor say something once to the effect of, "Hey, we pay taxes, too!" Yes, you do. However, you also pay an accountant who gets you every tax shelter and break available, and might I just say that paying half of your taxes when you earn 20 million dollars a year still leaves you with way more money than if you pay a quarter of 24 thousand dollars a year. Let's compare: 10 million dollars versus 18 thousand-does that seem fair to you?

And viewers aren't even invited to the after-parties, where the real action takes place. We aren't important enough; we're only good enough to pass the high school dropout at the theater window our hard-earned money through the bullet-proof glass while Mr. Important Celebrity sits safely at home earning a nice little hunk of it for doing nothing. I think they should skip the ceremony and televise the Oscar parties that take place before and after the main event. I wanna see Mr. Award-winning actor drunk on his ass balancing the host's wife's very expensive and irreplaceable dildo collection (one in jade, ivory, and teak!) on his head or see some famous aging actress begging to blow a high-powered director-the one with the mole and bad breath-for a bit part in the next Jessica Alba movie. That would make a great reality TV show, and the plus would be that global audiences would get to see how truly pathetic and talentless these icon wannabes are.

I watch TV because I want entertainment, not because I want to join in glad-handing with a group of over-paid, disingenuous, self-important bores. I could crash an awards ceremony any weekend there's an ACME Screws sales conference at the local no-tell motel if I wanted that. On the bright side, they have gotten rid of Joan Rivers on the red carpet next year by replacing her with Lisa Rinna, who has managed to successfully stay so far under the radar during her career that I have no idea who she is. Perhaps that's a good thing, because now none of the celebrities will stop and talk to her. They'll totter right past her, lamely scanning for Joan, which means they will probably wander all the way into the foray without talking to anyone, so intent are they on their purpose, and that's one less time will have to hear their insincere pleas to save the planet, end the war, reduce Pam Anderson's cup size, or help Paris Hilton get even more time cut off her jail sentence.

Thank God for the remote control.