In the weeks since the Academy Award nominations were announced, I've been trying to gather the gumption to write my annual preview piece.
This crop of crap is so bad, It doesn't even engender in me enough passion to rant on and on about how out of touch Hollywood elites are with the mainstream audience (nobody's seen these movies!), or how I can't remember a bigger celebration of political propaganda in the history of this already over-hyped event, or how "Walk the Line" and "King Kong" got screwed.
I say this every year, but this time I mean it: There's no way I'm watching this pretentious, masturbatory exercise. I hope Joaquin and Reese win, but other than that, who cares? I'm certainly not "rooting" for any of the Best Picture noms. I've only seen one, and that's only 'cause I thought I ought to. And it wasn't even that great.
So instead of analyzing these insipid awards, I'm going to watch my brother play basketball, check out the new Dave Chappelle movie, read a book, watch more basketball, go to church, and spend time with my wife.
I suggest you do some of the same. Hopefully if we all ignore the Oscars at the same time, someone out there in LALA Land will get the message.
Oh, wait, I forgot. This is Hollywood, where bad dreams live on—in remakes, sequels, and George Clooney movies.
Good night, and good luck.