The Gold and the Beautiful

Welcome to the first and probably only Sorryless Awards Show. I’ll be your host as we honor the top five categories made famous by dead white people. Since I didn’t watch the Oscars, Imma dish up my own version for best actor, actress, director, screenplay and of course . . picture. 

Best Actor (Runaway Bride)- Former Steeler/Raider/Patriot/Almost Saint Antonio Brown takes home the top prize for his (sic) heartfelt apology to the Steelers, the NFL and his ex-girlfriend. This week. Stay tuned for next week when Brown recants all apologies and signs on with Cirque du Soleil before suing the production company in order to get out of his contract.

Best Actress (Sunset Boulevard)- Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi wins again. For residing over an impeachment trial that was easier to predict than a Harlem Globetrotters game. She followed that by ripping up the President’s State of the Union speech in full view of the world when setting it on fire was a much better idea.

Image result for Tom Brady Hulu commercial

Best Director (Lord of the Rings)- Tom Brady scores the award. The former best actor winner for his role in Deflate-Gate, Brady wins here for the cryptic Instagram pic (above) that he posted in the week leading up to Super Bowl 54. Turns out it was a sneak preview for a Hulu commercial Brady would star in on Super Bowl Sunday. And the best part? He says he’s not done yet. Lucky us!

Best Picture (All the President’s Men)- And the award goes to the US Senate. Against a backdrop of corruption and abuse of power, one Republican Senator stands stall. Mitt Romney’s vote to convict the President on one count of abuse of power falls short but he wins the respect of many democrats. Let’s hope the 2020 elections bring some comeuppance to those Republican senators who voted to cover their asses.

Best Screenplay (The Usual Supects)- Chad and Lori Daybell for running an end around on law enforcement officials, the media and every right thinking person alive. These nut bags have somehow avoided any kind of police detainment in spite of the slew of murders involving family members and the unexplained disappearances of their two children . . in September.

As for the pieces of Oscar night I did catch online, I’ve got some thoughts.

  • This no host business blows. I don’t care if it works okay without one . . . I’m not sorry I missed that.
  • Renee Zellweger really looked like Judy Garland!
  • Chris Rock and Steve Martin delivered a vagina monologue? I’m sorry I missed that.
  • One Hollywood legend- Tom Hanks- honors another in Kirk Douglas. As it should be.
  • Enough with the Cats bashing already, for fuck’s sake.
  • I gotta see Parasite.
  • Brad Pitt got political, and while I ain’t usually down with such a thing, his mention was brief, smart and real. I’m okay with that.
  • As I was very okay with the speech Joaquin Phoenix gave after winning the Oscar for his turn in Joker. Sure he’s out there, but that’s what makes him such a great actor. And yanno, when he said that maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to cancel each other out over past failures? That shit resonated with me. And I’m okay with not agreeing with every single thing he said up there. Because I agree with the most important part. Like when he closed it out with a quote from his late brother, River. And that becomes how I choose to close out this post, with nothing more to add to such a beautiful idea.
  • “Run to the rescue with love, and peace will follow.”






All That Glitters Isn’t Entertaining

Oscar Funny

I only watched a couple hours worth of Academy Awards the other night, and to be perfectly honest . . it was like watching C-Span. With beautiful people. Maybe it’s me, but the Oscars felt more lacking than the Baltimore Orioles lineup. There was less sizzle than a CPA’s black book. And if not for the lovely J. Lo making the scene, there wouldn’t have been a single boom.

The Queen opening I liked just fine. Adam Lambert has some pipes, and I must admit . . he ain’t in the same area code with Freddie. That is what I liked most of all, because I’m really quite possessive about the former Queen front man. You can cover his shit all you want, and that’s proper . . I respect it. But you’re not going to upstage the ultimate showman. And Lambert didn’t. I’m fine with that.

After that, I might as well have turned on Walking Dead. The fact they went with a self service hosting format thanks to the Kevin Hart imbroglio opened promisingly enough. Getting right to it rather than having to sit through a droning table setting dialogue book-ended by commercial breaks was a refreshing change of pace.

I wish I could tell you I have anything good to say about Sunday night after that, but I’d be lying harder than a Trump appointee. Okay . . yeah, there were moments. Like J. Lo rocking the (almost) century mark as if she is twenty something. And that duet with Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga was a glorious fire. How can you not love that? Unless you’re Mrs. Bradley Cooper, that is. In which case, you went home and started divvying everything up whilst doing real estate searches.

I dig that Queen . .I mean Bohemian Rhapsody won four of the five awards they were up for. And I was really digging Spike Lee in those purple threads. And I dig that he finally won an award after forever. And I dig that a doc about menstrual cycles won, and that one of the peeps involved called it out as such. And I dig Samuel Jackson bringing some much needed coolness to the evening when he reported that the Knicks had finally won a game.

On the flip side, I didn’t dig what I believed to be a weak list of Academy Award nominees for Best Picture. And I didn’t dig how Spike Lee had to throw a tantrum after Green Book won. Come on man, grow the fuck up. This ain’t a Knicks game!  And I didn’t dig the trains . . I mean, what was up with all the trains? And hey, why did Charlize Theron answer all those trains by wearing a curtain? And I really didn’t dig how nobody got uber political. There were a few clever innuendos sprinkled in throughout the show but no blunt force trauma statements of revolution from the tyranny the District is presently under. Make no mistake, I would have been the first one to bitch about bringing politics into the mix. But it would have been fun! 

It’s like this. Sunday night’s Oscars were a preview of what this year’s NFL draft is going to look like. Heavy on the fundamentals but severely lacking in the disco department. I’m glad I tuned in, and even more glad I tuned out before the end. Hey John Bailey! . . Billy Crystal called.

He wants his Oscars back.