The Oscars: 16 Years Is A Long Time To Hold A Grudge


This Sunday is the Oscar telecast, and like hundreds of other SAG (Screen Actors Guild) members I’ll not be attending. That’s because I was not invited—again!

I know the drill by now rejection is a part of all Oscar ceremonies. For every gold statue that goes to someone (and the Oscar goes to…) four other performers get nothing, nada, zilch. That list has grown if you are in the “Best Picture” category.

Then there is the seating dilemma at the “Dolby Theater.” So many famous and not so famous butts, and even fewer stalls to park them in. I know, because my ass failed to get one again!

Year after year plucked from the ever growing pool of reluctant performers to host the show, has come this array of actors who look completely disinterested in hosting the proceedings—James Franco for one comes to mind—but I’m not one of them… “Me, Me!”

Over the years I have been passed over for hosting duties on several occasions (or is it just ignored), and for the likes of folks named Rock, Crystal, and Whoopee! No, that’s not a hoot of celebration etched in stone that you hear, those are real people.

I can hear it now, “Who is he, and he said what last night at the Oscars!” Tell me ABC wouldn’t be thrilled with a little bit of drama? And I can provide it.

In years past there was Hope, this year we only have Doogie.

Now Neil Patrick Harris is a very nice guy, plenty of experience hosting award shows—a real improvement for the show.

Unless of course the Academy were to choose me.

Throw me a crumb for god sakes instead of calling me one! However, I would have settled for writing jokes again, but that’s the problem isn’t it?

Could it also be my application “Has wrote for the likes of Leno, Letterman and Ferguson.” I can’t imagine how that failed to impress?

But we both know what the real issue is don’t we, Cheryl—Academy Board President, Cheryl Boone Isaacs. It was Oprah… or was it Uma?

So David Letterman had one bad year hosting the show, but that was sixteen years ago! Hey, its not my fault his delivery was off that night. Blame the messenger, not the writer, or rather, the guy who suggested the joke—namely moi.

“Oprah…Uma. Uma…Oprah,” still funny… right? Well I guess you had to be there.

I was—ONCE!

Okay, YES, I recently failed in my attempt to write jokes for the “Once Upon Your Prime” blog written by Stephanie Lewis, at “The Huffington Post” but it wasn’t my fault. The sun was in my eyes when I dotted that T and crossed that I.

So come Sunday, when families gather around the TV back on the East coast—IN ALL THAT SNOW—I’ll be stuck out here going to the beach laying under the palms in glorious sunny California (poor me).

So I’m pleading my case with AMPAS—American Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences, again. Please let me write for, or possibly host, The Oscars, next year!

I swear I’ll never tell another Oprah, Uma joke ever again!


9 comments on “The Oscars: 16 Years Is A Long Time To Hold A Grudge

  1. Having you host would be scary! I would watch for sure! Could you make all those winners stop thanking people I never heard of? Could you make them speak articulately? Could you impose a dress code so I don’t see more skin than in an operating room?

  2. Okay this is one of my favorite topics (I may rerun my Blogademy Awards post from last year but maybe not) but as I am reading this, I’m nodding my head so enthusiastically that kids are complaining about brain rattling sounds and I’m laughing and laughing so hard (the celebs are funny yes, but the way you presented all this was hilarious!) that the cat got scared and fell off the counter and I don’t even have a cat and the Crystal, Rock and Whoopie line was the best and then I see my name. Stunned. Apreciative. Then I see you are also in Calif? How did I not know this??? How Close to me in San Diego?? Well, apparently there’s a lot I didn’t know. Like your name. I think I have been mixed up. Is it Paul, David or Mud? And speaking of awards, InMyClutteredAttic wins for best title!!! That is all.

    • Where do I begin with your gut-busting response! “And I don’t even have a cat” was one killer line! I’m still wiping the tears away because of laughing so hard. David and I now forever linked, but “Mud” is my alias. And “rattling sounds” coming from your brain, I”m in the recovery ward at “Show Me Mercy” hospital. Plus you heaped all that praise on me, yet I was the brown noser, not that I’m complaining (I did all that in my post). Stephanie you made my head spin so much, I felt like Linda Blair. I live in Northern California, but you can catch me at 8949 Wilshire Blvd in Beverly Hills later this week, I’ll be the one with the tin cup out front. Thank you Stephanie for the compliments, I love making you laugh for the great responses I get from you. I better stop writing this novel, but the check is in the mail. Thanks again. :O)

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