Seems like once a year I get Oscar fever. It starts with general fatigue, dry mouth, precipitous drop in mood on realizing that regular programming is preempted. Next thing I'm flopping on the floor.
I hate the Oscars. I never miss em.
Out here in DeKalb we're tv talkers anyway, always talking back, full of smart remarks. Making fun of all these phonies with their borrowed jewelry and ridiculous dresses. It's Star Prom. Who's had surgery most recently? Who needs it again already? Who honestly gives a good damn?
We hardly know how to watch the Oscars anymore now that our free subscription to The National Enquirer ran out. Ran out to White Hen never saw it again. We got the basic cable now, comes with FOX. We let it snow on the other channels, except the nine Spanish channels, which provide 24 hour language immersion. A while back I discovered it is possible, by pressing the correct sequence of buttons, to get C-SPAN, which is the only television news anyone should be allowed to watch.
I do hate the academy awards. I do. And I refuse to capitalize them because they've wasted so much of my time over the years. So few of these awards ever touched me. Maybe Geoffrey Rush in Shine. He deserved it, I thought, because the man played his own piano! Zowie. No stunt hands, no doubles. On top of that, he acted while he was playing. That's why I was touched; his acting was ...eh...
They say that every year has its moment, and it's true. Out of all those hours it's a statistical certainty.
My favorite moment was not when Jim Carrey came out as Humpty Dumpty and gave a serious and unfunny summary of the life of a somewhat funny behind-the-scenes man for whom we are supposed to feel, through osmosis, a great fondness, as if we're part of this huge entertainment family, which, of course, we think we are, even though this "family" doesn't even exist, much as, many of us may feel, our own.