Oscar Defied Me

I tried to tell the truth, ladies and gentlemen, about all the perversions and weirdness going on at the Academy Awards, but the underlings of secret dark powers known as Oscar prevented me by virusing my blogger. I don't know how they did it. Perhaps it was arcane magic. Perhaps it was disk operating system eating worms, but somehow they broke right into the midst of my Live Oscar Blog and smashed everything in sight, and I could not post. This is what I get for talking about Joan Rivers' neck falling off, and this is what "The Man" does when you try to mention Ryan Gosling and his association with Britney Spears' bank account.

But you've failed, The Man, you've failed. All the moist truths are coming out anyway, even if they are a day late. Jack Nicholson's "accident" on stage with the stains and drippings will be talked about, even if you tried to censor it from the live broadcast. The lack of a Mark Northover tribute will be discussed right here in this blog, even if you don't like it, because Mr. Northover's performance as Chauncy Neverenstein in Dogs for the Pennywhistle Lovers was truly the best posthumous performance of the decade. Ellen Degenerate's fake pants will not be overlooked, for I will mention it. Despite clever editing, it was obvious to anyone who paid attention that her pants were patently fake. Fake pants, Oscar! Is that all you had to offer us this year? Jack Nicholson's stains, Mark Northover's overlooked best performance as a hat merchant with a penchant for axe murder, and Ellen Degenerate's fake pants. That's it? Hmph, says I, hmph! I will wait for the Tony Awards!