Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Thursday, March 7, 2024

An Annual Star Studded Waste Of Our Time

The Oscars are coming this weekend. As always, I will not be watching, as I'd rather have broken glass dropped into my eyes than put up with that. However, it's been my tradition to write how the Oscars ceremony should go. Complete with my own continuity from previous Oscar years.


Five days before the event actually is scheduled to take place, fans will start camping out for places around the Dolby Theater in Hollywood. They will be spending their time sharing gossip on the nominees, who will be wearing what, and who might be the sore loser of the nominees. In the interim, they'll be spending their time irritating nearby shop keepers with requests to use the washroom, and giving the Ubereats drivers plenty of business.

Producers Katy Mullan and Raj Kapoor will appear at the offices of the ABC network president to assure him that the ceremony will finish on time.

The president, fully aware that will never happen, will nod and assume that his network will be backlogged with delays all night and probably into the next day. He knows this from previous experience.

This year's host, Jimmy Kimmel, will be wondering how many times he can get away with Barbieheimer references.


Three days before the ceremony, at a local funeral home, morticians will be busy on the annual touch-ups of the body of Jack Nicholson. The actor, who died years ago during an Oscars ceremony, left a will that stipulates that his corpse be placed in the front row for each ceremony going forward. The morticians will periodically muse on how many seat fillers will have to be paid extra to sit around the embalmed body.

At a psychologist's office in LA, Leonardo DiCaprio will be attending a session. As is usually the case with Leo at this time of year, the subjects will be his deathly fear of Marisa Tomei and his habit of dating women under the age of 26. Left unsaid will be what the therapist writes on her notepad: "this guy looks ridiculous dating women half his age."


Tom Cruise will be at home. Faced with a restraining order forbidding him once again from coming near the Dolby Theatre after multiple years of breaking in anyway, in a series of daring stunts involving the physical maiming or deaths of multiple accomplice waiters/ wannabe actors, Cruise will shrug it off, already planning how he'll pull it off this year.

On the day of the ceremony, Will Smith will be at home, feeling sorry for himself, still deep in a ten year ban from attending the ceremony after the hitting Chris Rock fiasco. His wife Jada Pinkett-Smith will be upstairs, playing tonsil hockey with her son's best friend.

Determined to keep her away from the ceremony, Mullan and Kapoor will send a runner to the residence of Barbra Streisand to whisk her off to her supposed trip to the Oscars, but in fact a one way trip to St. Agnes' Home For The Deranged. The runner will find out that Barbra has sustained a head injury and doesn't remember who she is.


John Travolta will finish getting dressed to attend the ceremony, despite having had spent the last few years not doing anything remotely of acclaim. He'll nod to himself in the mirror, and say, "time to go, Julio Telesta."

Mullan and Kapoor will meet with their designated enforcers in the theater. Marisa Tomei and Tommy Lee Jones are going to be ensuring that nothing gets out of hand. "By the way, this includes run-time of winners speeches," Mullan will say.

"No it doesn't," Jones will reply back.

Tomei will agree. "We're here to kick butt and take names if anyone makes a scene. Not keep you on a schedule."


Stars will start to arrive on the red carpet. Gushing entertainment journalists will take the chance to talk to them. Onlookers will hope some of them are in the mood to come over to the stanchion lines and say hello. 

Despite being a musician and not an actor, let alone being nominated, Bjork will arrive, wearing an outfit consisting of studded ripped jeans, psychedelic halter top, faux-yak scarf, and cowboy hat. Fashion journalists will pronounce her the style maven of the year.

Katherine Heigl will arrive with her wife, Katherine Heigl. The narcissists have been together for years, after this dimension's Katherine Heigl crossed worlds to find the one true love of her life- herself- and brought the other Katherine Heigl into this one. And ever since then, they've spent time making a scene of themselves at every opportunity, being exhibitionists along the way. They'll go down the red carpet, making out and fondling each other, while others wonder how they scored an invite.


In Canada, legendary Mountie Inspector Lars Ulrich will wrap things up for the day at his detachment in Alberta, fresh off beating up Mechagodzilla and making it cry. He will sleep well knowing that there is not a single entertainment reporter in the country.

Barbra Streisand will be examined by doctors in a hospital in LA. The doctors will be astonished by her amnesia, and will hope it's permanent. Her husband James Brolin will be outside waiting and wondering. "Guess we're not making it to the Oscars," he'll say to no one.

Jack Nicholson's corpse will be in its customary front row position, flanked to either side and in the row behind it by a team of seat fillers. He'll be wearing his customary sunglasses and tuxedos, with his face stuck in that half smirk of his. The seat fillers will make a point of breathing shallowly to lessen the experience of the embalming scent.

Will Smith will be watching the red carpet arrivals on television. "Hey, Jada, honey? If I hadn't lost my temper, that would be us right about now. Jada?"

Jada will be too busy screwing her son's best friend upstairs to hear.


Leonardo DiCaprio will arrive for the ceremony, with the latest twenty four year old model he's been dating on his arm. He'll look around the slowly filling theater, and see Marisa Tomei down near the stage with Tommy Lee Jones. He'll start shaking in fear. Tomei will turn, see him, smirk, and run a finger across her throat in a threatening way, and then point at him. Leonardo will stifle the need to cry.

In a warehouse a few blocks away from the theatre, Tom Cruise will have assembled a crack team of wannabe actors spending their time as waiters, and Scott Baio. He'll explain the intricate details of his plans to break into the Oscars. It will involve most of them causing mayhem and chaos and distracting security in the efforts to lead them away. All while he gets in from the side. "Operation Distraction can't fail," he'll say. "I've got a guy on the inside, and he's going to get me in the back door."

"Maybe we should just watch the ceremony on television," Baio will say.

"Shut up, Chachi!" Cruise will snap at him.


Jimmy Kimmel will open the ceremony with a monologue that will speak to the elephant in the room by making fun of Jack Nicholson's corpse on full display. "Come on, guys, this is not Moscow, and he's not Lenin."

Somewhere in hell, Jack Nicholson will fume.

John Travolta will laugh, and say to the person next to him, "Jerry Norbert isn't Lando? Who'd have thought?"

In hospital, Barbra Streisand will continue to put up with the examination by doctors, absently saying from time to time, "I feel like there's somewhere I should be."

Cruise, Baio, and the rest of the team will head in the direction of the theater. Cruise will not be looking like himself. He'll have taken a page out of the Mission Impossible movies and be wearing a prosthetic mask to pass himself as someone else. Someone who looks remarkably like the actor Julian Sands, who disappeared last year on a hike, and whose remains were found months later.


The first award will be handed out. The winner will start giving their speech. After about thirty seconds, the orchestra will start playing music in an attempt to get them to cut it short. "Come on, guys, we're not doing that," they will tell the conductor. The conductor will back off and give in. It will be the benchmark for the rest of the evening.

Cruise will split up with his cohorts, sending them to the red carpet. They have explicit instructions, and a time to do so. Cruise will duck down a back alley. "Can I come with you?" Baio will ask.

"No, Chachi!" will come the sharp reply.

"That's not the only role I did!" Baio will protest.

Chris Rock will saunter on stage to present an award, basking in the goodwill of the audience after being so graceful in the aftermath of the Will Smith debacle. "Ladies and gentleman, and Will and Jada watching at home..." he'll say, grinning at the camera and waving.


At home, Smith will feel despondent, wondering why he let his life fall apart like this.

Jada will be too busy in the basement, fornicating with the chauffeur.

John Travolta will laugh, and say, "Werner Simmons and Josie Pesco-Simmons must be regretting that whole night."

Baio and company will be posted near the red carpet, waiting for the cue. They'll receive the expected text, and as one will stride out onto the red carpet, bypassing the stanchion line and annoying the onlookers. "Shave the whales!" Baio will announce.

"We're here with the Shave The Whales Society!" another of the group will loudly say as the group as a whole chant Shave The Whales repeatedly.

"Did you know whales can't grip a razor, and can't shave? For just twenty dollars a day, you can help the Shave The Whales Society set up ocean barbershops to help the whales live a better, smooth shaved life," Baio will tell onlookers.

Word will quickly reach the security team lead about a bizarre group of protesters outside.


While the Oscars security team comes out and shuffles off the Shave The Whales protesters, Tom Cruise will take his chance and head deeper into the side alley, unseen. He'll advance to an access door for the theatre, and knock twice. The door will open, and his inside man- an usher who thinks Mission Impossible is real- will let him in. Cruise will navigate his way through the back stage to find a spot to wait until he feels the time is right to take the stage.

Scott Baio and the rest of the Shave The Whales Society will be drummed off by security, with Baio protesting, "Come on! You can't do this to Chachi!"

Doctors will tell James Brolin that his wife may recover her memory shortly- or never. "It's a fifty fifty chance, either way," the assessment will come.

Brolin will nod. "Can you do anything to keep her from singing?"


The ceremony will carry on. Speeches will go on and on without end.  People will find themselves dozing off in the seats. Mullan and Kapoor will realize that they are already four hours behind schedule, and will wonder if this year will mark the longest Oscars ever.

Kimmel will make his two hundred and fifteenth Barbieheimer joke of the night.

Cruise will wonder if he should come out of hiding and make his grand entrance on stage yet.

The March of the Dead, in which the Hollywood dead of the last year are shown on screen, will commence. Those who are known will be met by applause. Cinematographers and screenwriters will be met with 'who is that again' confusion from the audience.


At some point during the March of the Dead, a video clip of Julian Sands will be shown, along with the subtitle 'we're sorry for that whole disappeared thing we did last year for him'. The apology will set off a controversy about how out of touch it seems.

John Travolta will sigh and say, "that wasn't quite thought out, was it? Poor Jim Styles dies alone on a mountain, and the Academy fumbles it two years in a row."

At home, Will Smith will be watching, and will be outraged when his face appears, and the subtitle 'Will Smith's career is still dead' is seen below it. "Baby? Jada? They're saying my career is still over," he will call out to no one.

Jada won't hear, as she's down in the basement screwing the gardener.


Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling will present an award together, and make a casual remark about how viral the whole Barbieheimer thing has gone in the last few months. The camera will cut to Chris Nolan, who's gotten a little tired of the Kimmel remarks all evening long.

In the hospital, James Brolin will sit at the bedside of Barbra Streisand and tell her they're married. "We are?" she'll say. "I don't remember."

"Don't worry, there's video," he'll say. "You like having your life documented, and that was a big day."

"What do we do for a living?" she'll ask. 

He'll shrug. "We're sort of retired."


Jennifer Lawrence will head to the stage to present an award. True to form, she'll trip and fall over with odd grace. This is in keeping with her secret kink- she gets off on tripping in public.

John Travolta will nod. "Wouldn't be an Oscars if Jessie Logan didn't fall."

Scott Baio will be booked by police for causing a disturbance, along with the rest of the Shave the Whales Society. "This is a mistake! You've gotta call Tom Cruise! He put us up to this! Don't you get it? I'm Chachi! You can't do this to me!"

Tom Cruise will realize that the ceremonies must be coming close to an end, given that they're into some of the big categories. "Here goes nothing," he'll say, and head out of his hiding area back stage.


Leonardo DiCaprio will hear the nominees start to be called out for Best Actor. His name will not be on the list, but out of nowhere, he'll sum up some courage, get up, walk towards the stage, and take the stage. "I have something to say!" he'll exclaim.

Off to the right, Tommy Lee Jones and Marisa Tomei will start moving to intercept.

Tom Cruise will be emerging from back stage left, and show himself to the audience. "I have something to say too!"

People will gasp, seeing that with the mask, he looks just like the deceased Julian Sands- only shorter. Jones will assess his height inside of a second and realize it's an imposter, and also that it has to be Tom Cruise from the sound of his voice.


John Travolta will be oblivious to the truth, as he is oblivious to calling people by their actual names. "Jim Styles is alive?"

Cruise will tear off his Julian Sands mask and stride forward onto the stage towards DiCaprio. "I'm more important than you! Get out of my way!"

"You get out of my way!" DiCaprio will fire back. Neither of them will notice Jones and Tomei closing in on them from behind DiCaprio.

Streisand will wake up suddenly in the hospital bed and sit upright. "I remember everything! James, what day is it?" She'll look up at a television screen as Brolin wakes up from a nap in a nearby chair. The muted screen will be showing the Academy Awards. Streisand will realize she's missing attending the Oscars yet again. She will begin to scream. The scream will be heard as far away as San Francisco, and register on the Richter scale.


At their current residence somewhere in California, with their non-existent kids nowhere to be found, Meghan and Harry will be watching. Meghan will be fuming. "I should be best actress. I should be queen."

Harry will be smoking some dope. "What was that, Megs?"

Cruise and DiCaprio's confrontation will be interrupted by Jones and Tomei, who will begin beating both of them up. Jones will throttle Cruise, while Tomei will kick the hell out of Leonardo DiCaprio.

John Travolta will laugh at the spectacle, and exclaim, "Teddy Curtis and Lowry Denny can't fight worth a damn."

Best Actor will be named, and Cillian Murphy will accept the award.


The Best Picture will be awarded. Chris Nolan and the entire Oppenheimer team will graciously take the stage and thank everyone for the award. Their remarks and celebration will add another twenty seven minutes to the running time of the ceremony. 

Will Smith will be passed out on the couch at home, while Jada will be upstairs, banging the chauffeur again.

The ceremony will end, ten hours past its expected end time, with morning rush hour traffic in L.A. already gone and done. The guests will file out, heading for limos to go home and sleep it all off. Jones and Tomei, having had beaten the crap out of the usual suspects, will shake hands, having had a good time, and part ways. 

In a hospital a few blocks away, Tom Cruise will be treated for a broken arm, two broken legs, multiple contusions and bruises, and a strained back. He'll get a look at his reflection and gasp. "My face... my beautiful face!"

A few rooms away, doctors will be treating Leonardo DiCaprio for broken ribs, a broken nose, a groin injury, and a fat lip. He'll be heard crying hysterically from outside. "Marisa Tomei hurt me again!"

8 comments:

  1. They didn't have the Oscars yet? I really have not been paying attention.

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  2. Hi William, sorry I've been out of touch. My blog blew up and I'm in rebuilding mode. I'm actually looking forward to the show as I've seen a few of the nominated films. I know what you mean about all the clich├ęs, over-the-top speeches, bad jokes... I can do without those. I only half-watch the show, in between laundry and other household stuff, hahah! Hope you've been well.

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    1. I'm well behind in blog reading, but had seen issues with your page.

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  3. This is just too long to read through and I never watch the Oscars anymore anyway. I got tired of seeing women wearing as little as possible and calling it a dress.

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  4. LOL...........had to laugh as the post might be longer than the Oscars, lol. Been years since I've watched. We don't go to movies, so often don't know whom the actors and actresses even are. Reading your post re-affirmed that, as I didn't know who many of the people you referred to were. Spotted you on a mutual friends blog, and thought I'd pop in to say hi. It's always fun to meet new bloggers. PS...you spin quite the yarn, and even if long, I enjoyed the read.

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