The Oscars are my Super Bowl. I love them. I wait all year for them. Once the nominations are announced, I start binging on the movies. I pick a category to start (this year it was Best Actress) and catch as many of the contenders as I can. (I saw 4 of 5). Then I move on (this year, it was Best Actor).
I woke up Sunday and celebrated Oscar Day by going to the movies. At a theater. The Music Box Theater had a special program to devoted to Cher. Since she's an Academy Award winner, it seemed fitting. While she won for Moonstruck, I enjoy her more in Mask. So I was happy. Afterward, Eileen and I went out for lunch for her birthday. Again, fitting, since we went out for my birthday.
I got home, took a nap, then settled in on the sofa for the ceremony. It was so deja 2019. So wonderfully pre-covid.
Then Will Smith slapped Chris Rock. My party was ruined. It just wasn't so much fun anymore.
This wasn't Envelopegate, when Bonnie and Clyde gave the Best Picture Oscar to the wrong movie. That was fun and fascinating. This was complicated, and every way I looked at it was uglier than the next.
Thanks, Will. Thanks a whole hell of a lot.
