It seems that with the cold, rainy, and thunder-snowy weather we've been inundated with as of late, I've been having quite an active love affair with my couch and my iPad and sometimes, the television, just to spice it up a bit. Last night was no different. Somehow, in my infinite wisdom, the Socialista household decided to settle in for a long Oscar viewing fix replete with some wine and cheese and fruit -- how classy, right? The logical, sober part of my brain now dreadfully regrets that choice--the Oscars part of that, not the yum-yum food and drink. As I'm pretty sure Charlie Sheen will soon learn, regret can be fierce and unrelenting. For the life of me I cannot justify giving up those precious hours to the nauseatingly boring dress selections, to the contrite platitudes by overly-paid bombastic assholes and women who somehow think that gestating something in their uterus makes them so much more enlightened than the rest of the world. Gag me with a spoon. If not, then just gouge my eye out with a rusty nail the next time I want to spend my Sunday wasting away in front of the boob-tube.

What is it about Hollywood? How is it that we all can get absolutely hypnotized by celebrity and the spectacle when we get little out of it in the end? All in all, I saw really nothing memorable or heartwarming or soul stirring during the four hour telecast (not to mention the two hour fashion preview) to justify my viewing. In fact, my mind was filled with little other than empty and useless images and evil, completely non-Christian thoughts about the clowns parading around as if they are so much better than us because they were in some movie. You're actors people, not saviors. Get over yourselves! If you ask me, there's some incredible acting at local theaters by people who are actually passionate about their craft and who don't have millions of dollars being expended on them or thousands of people editing them to make them look good. 

Looking back at the telecast, there was so much wrong with the entire show and so much that makes me rue my choice of watching it even more. First, whoever decided that Anne Hathaway and James Franco would make good hosts must have seriously been on some stimulating substances. Anne and James were about as funny as a funeral and about as painful as well. Next, whatever genius wanted to "freshen" and "hip" up the Oscar show with Anne and James terribly missed the mark with bringing in Kirk Douglas. I mean, the man is about as appealing as a crypt keeper can get and his unmistakable incoherence was more than annoying. Bring on Michael Douglas instead, that would have been more heartwarming seeing as how he just beat a deadly cancer. While I'm at it--who in creation thought that it would be a good idea to give Gwyneth Paltrow a microphone. This isn't Wednesday night drunk karaoke, nope, it was the Oscars. Gwyneth can't sing to save her life. Give her a flat iron or a pilates class and she's in her element. But for heaven's sake, don't stick her on stage with music and microphone--please, what did we ever do to deserve that? There's absolutely no vocal talent there. None. My shoe makes better melodies than her.

Jennifer Hudson, yes, we all know she lost more than a person-worth of weight but no one needs to see her misshapen boobies or some little paid slave carrying her dress train. Give me a break. Oprah doesn't even have dress helpers--who does she think she is?! Speaking of Oprah, who invited her? And who is Melissa Leo? I never even heard of her before and here she is busting out with a colorful F-bomb in her Oscar acceptance speech. That was cute, wasn't it? A middle-aged woman who can't get a sentiment out with an explicative -- that makes good television. Then Colin Firth and Christian Bale - both terribly cute and sweet but come on, they were all but absolute shoe-ins. There was no competition there and that's why it was so scripted and almost heartless. Then you have the pontifications of the likes of the "Inside Job" documentary Oscar winner Jeff Laurie bemoaning the fact that no financier or alleged Wall Street fraudster has been imprisoned for the harm his movie apparently exposed. Go bleed your leftist heart somewhere else, Jeff. You own the Philadelphia Eagles--worry about the team's problems and not about imprisoning people who just gave you Oscar worthy film material.

I could rant on about the train wreck Oscars but you get my drift. One thing is for sure--usually when you burn your hand on an open flame, you won't stick it in the fire again. I've learned my lesson. I will take my vegetating, couch loving  behind and seared eyeballs away from that nasty Oscar fire. Never again.