Yes, it’s that time of year once again. Tonight, in the hills of Hollywood, all the stars in the heavenly host of film will collide to see who will take Oscar home to bed. No, I’m not talking about Oscar De LeHoya, in which case my money would be on John Travolta. I’m talking about that little gold statue coveted by everyone from rising starlets bathing the masses in their youth and beauty to old Hollywood giants fading so fast you can barely see the needle marks from the last botox injection.
The madness will be in full effect as pundits, posers and other media mavens chime in on the latest gossip of who hates who, which nominee plasters on the most false smile when they lose, who’s wearing who and who’s wearing the most hideous monstrosity (Sharon Stone, watch and see). The coverage of the big O consumes so many media outlets that I think even ESPN does an Oscar special of taking bets on how many people each winner will thank or how many times Jack Nicholson will take a sip from the flask of whiskey he keeps in his jacket pocket (I say 10).
And speaking of specials, we all know that Babara Walters will precede the Oscar mayhem with another of her tear jerker Star specials. Barbara, please, enough is enough. We don’t want to see Ellen Degeneres weep about how tough it is to be a millionaire lesbian with a smoking hot girlfriend who plays polo. We don’t want, for the one thousandth time, to hear about how Simon Cowell badgered poor diva-in-training Jennifer Hudson, calling her a “forgettable bombastic burp” (okay that’s what I said at the time, but I really love her now). And we especially don’t want to see Eddie Murphy mugging for the camera while you, Ms. Walters, cackle insanely over material not funny since Saturday Night Live in the early eighties. NO MORE.
This year I will definitely skip the Babara Walters fiasco and instead tune in to the true fun of Oscar night: The Red Carpet Parade of Shame. Just like in years past the stars will walk the thin red line, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd and posing for the paparazzi as if their fashion sense is not about to be massacred by that raving husk Joan Rivers and her surgically removed parasitic twin daughter, Melissa. And we can’t forget about the E! Fashion Police firing squad of Mr. and Ms. J, from America’s Next Top Model, who rip and ravage all who don’t conform to the Tyra Banks standard of beauty which today means luscious curves cinched into a designer gown and topped off with a towering weave and a greasy rib bone dangling from the mouth. Thanks Tyra!
Finally, no post about the Oscars could be complete without the obligatory prediction list!
Phoenixstorm’s Top 10 Oscar Predictions!
10. Pitt & Jolie will show up with newly adopted baby David Banda rescued from Madonna.9. Mel Gibson will arrive drunk, throwing punches at the paparazzi, blaming his shabby tuxedo on the Jewish Conspiracy, complete a rehab treatment, and issue an insincere apology all by the time he reaches the end of the red carpet.
8. Halle Berry will slay all rivals on the red carpet while dragging her boy toy along on his leash.
7. Jennifer Aniston will be there for some strange reason.
6. Jennifer Hudson will win Best Supporting Actress.
5. When Hudson wins Tina Knowles will storm the stage, snatch the Oscar and run while Beyonce spellbinds the audience with a tortuously heartfelt rendition of “Listen”.
4. Clint Eastwood will be unfrozen from Cryogenic sleep in order to present for Best Director.
3. Martin Scorsese will finally win an Oscar for Best Director.
3. After winning for Best Actor, Forest Whittaker will remain mute for his entire speech.
2. Jamie Foxx will still be doing his Ray impersonation.
1. Helen Mirren will win Best Actress, but the Queen herself will claim the award as property of the Royal Family.
