And The Oscar For Best Original Screenplay Goes To.... Aggghhhh!! Vampire Bunnies!!!

It happens every year.

The Oscars comes onto television screens, celebrating the best in the past year of films. Stars prowl the red carpet. Entertainment "journalists" (among the lower evolved among homo sapiens) fawn all over them. Awards are handed out to the most deserving (not always). A host (or two) either bombs or kills (not literally). A list of the dead are displayed, and those who are well known are applauded by the audience while those who are less well known are given the final humiliation of not being applauded. Some star will inevitably use the occasion to speak up on their political cause of the week (Jane Fonda, Susan Sarandon, feel free to admit to it anytime you wish... you know that this year it'll be Solidarity For Vampire Bunnies). Jack Nicholson sits up front, wearing sunglasses.

And inevitably, it goes on. And on. And on. And on. Without end.

I don't watch the Oscars. The whole self-congratulatory tone of any awards show is like fingernails on a blackboard to me. Some years I'll agree with an Oscar choice- last year for The Hurt Locker, which both deserved the Best Picture and gave that idiotic Avatar a well deserved slap. Oh, if you're an Avatar fan, I'm sorry to have to inform you, but I'll have to set the hounds on you. It's more merciful that way, believe me. Why anyone loves a film that should have been called Dances With Smurfs is beyond me.

Other years, I don't agree with whatever the Academy fogies come up with. Let's just say that Forrest Gump winning any Oscars was a travesty. No, travesty's not really sufficient a word for it. It's like calling Lake Superior a pond. Still, it'll have to do.

Still, I don't care about the red carpet or who's wearing what, or the whole tediousness of a four or five or six hour marathon of people telling each other how wonderful they are. The damned ceremony goes on, and on, and on, filled with interminable speeches (I'd like to thank Billy Bob, my drug dealer, for the great cocaine, and my parole officer for teaching me how to roll joints, and Charlie Sheen, for being my inspiration) and pointless performance pieces. It may only be four hours, but it must feel longer.

Therefore, the point of this blog (and I do have a point)....

What can we do to fill the time that the Oscar takes?

Yes, you can always watch a movie or two. Maybe three, if Jane Fonda starts really ranting about the plight of vampire bunnies (all they need is human blood, but the Republicans won't let them!).

Other ways?

Play a game of golf. Go back on the green and play another. And another, just for good measure. You'll be having drinks in the clubhouse before the Oscars are over. Just don't invite me. My dislike for golf is well known.

Give birth to a baby. Come on, labour will be done and over by the time the Oscars are finally finished.

Take a stonemason's apprenticeship. You'll get your papers by the time the credits roll.

Run for President. Or Prime Minister. Or Supreme Majestrix of the Universe. Just as long as you're willing to follow my orders.

Start a revolution in North Africa. You'll sack that dictator before the Best Picture is named.

Climb a mountain. Just watch out for the vampire bunnies above the treeline.

Set out on that round the world sailing voyage you always wanted to do. By the time you're home, the Oscars will still be running. Oh, and watch yourself around the Indian Ocean. Those are dangerous waters these days, after all.

Kidnap Barney.

Send ransom note to PBS.

Frame your idiot brother-in-law for the kidnapping.

Watch the police arrest your idiot brother-in-law.

Write the definitive scholarly work on the Vampire Bunny (Lepus Vampirus).

Those are just some of the ways you can better fill your time during the Oscars. However, some of you might still, for some inexplicable reason, wish to watch them anyway. And so, tomorrow, I'll continue this discussion with a simple question:

How can the Oscars be made more interesting?