Oh, come on! You’ve got to be Schumer-ing me!
One day after I say that I’ve got to write two columns in one week to try to catch up on my leftist-skewering, we have THOSE Oscars? Now I might have to write 3 columns in one week. At this pace, I’ll just keep falling farther and farther behind on my appointed rounds of mockery.
But I’m an Ameri-can, not an Ameri-can’t. So here goes Part 2 of 3:
Does anyone else remember when the Oscars was just a bunch of insufferable BACKslapping?
Well, this year’s ceremonies apparently started out the same way. (Of course I didn’t watch them live. Because I’ve got a life to lead over here.)
Three untalented non-entities hosted, since the obnoxious prickliness of the wokesters in charge have driven off any reasonably well-known or competent hosts. And within the first minute or two, those dopes launched a political attack on the 70% of the country who supports Florida’s anti-child grooming bill, by rolling out the lame, “Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay!” joke.
Which provoked the latest example of why Ron DeSantis and his staff are four standard deviations better than their detractors on the dullard left. His press secretary tweeted out that painfully unfunny joke, followed by this perfect, sarcastic slap down: “Florida will never recover from this.”
The Will Smith slap is the most surprising thing I’ve ever seen on tv. If I had been watching the Oscars live, I think I would have thought it was some kind of a gag.
But even though I heard about it the way all of you did — a day late, and framed as a real incident – I am still flummoxed by it.
Because as little as I follow Hollywood, the only thing I know about Jada Pinkett is that she has publicly flaunted her “open marriage” with Will Smith. That term is also very confusing to me. On first blush – and if Pinkett could blush at such things, she would be a very different person than she is – a woman pursuing that kind of “marriage” would appear to be what the Romans called a plain ol’ “meretrix.” (Look it up. And you’re welcome.)
Now I may be just a humble roving correspondent from the 19th century, but as I understand marriage, the “closed” part is not some minutiae in the fine print: it’s pretty much the core of the thing. When I took my vows 33 years ago last week, I remember saying something like, “… for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, being faithful only to you….”
But maybe in the topsy turvy world of Hollywood and the lefty elite, everything is upside down and arse-backwards. Women are men, intolerance is tolerance, so maybe marriage can be “open?”
The mind reels. What’s the Hollywood definition of a threesome? It must contain at least four people? What is their definition of faithfulness? Banging Pete Davidson on Instagram?
So I watch, mouth agape, as Smith stalks up to Chris Rock and slaps him – kudos to Rock for behaving more professionally than most would have been able to do in that situation – and then stomps back to his seat. The commentators talked about how he was just “defending his wife’s honor.”
Huh? I guess she is technically his “wife.” But her “honor?” Really?
When Rock is appropriately shocked by this, Smith shouts out, “Keep my wife’s name out yo friending mouth!”
And once again I was confused. Could “having a woman’s name in your mouth” be some kind of Hollywood sex slang that I’ve never heard? As in, a guy is in a crowded bar, bragging to his buddies, “I just spent the whole weekend with” – and here he elbows his closest friend and gives him a Belushi-an raised eyebrow – “Jada Pinkett’s name in my mouth, if you know what I mean?”
And then everybody in the bar says, “Yeah, us too.”
But no. Will Smith is actually at least pretending to be angry at Chris Rock for mentioning Pinkett’s name in a harmless joke.
Can I possibly have that right? After her serial affairs, an MC mentioning her name is beyond the pale for Will Smith?
The saddest part of the whole fiasco is watching Will Smith when Rock tells the very mild joke. He smiles broadly, obviously understanding the joke… until he glances at the bald harpie he’s with, and sees the soul-shriveling scowl on her unfaithful face. And then he has to pretend to wear the pants in the relationship, and stomp up onto the stage and slap Chris Rock.
But this is Cautious Optimism, and I’m going to look on the bright side. It’s a good thing I wasn’t writing jokes for the Oscar presenters, because as I was watching this unfold, one occurred to me.
It takes a little set up. The producers of these kinds of award shows hate to have any open seats in the auditorium when the camera is panning the crowd, so they hire some nobodies to dress nicely and wait in the wings. Whenever anyone in the crowd leaves to go to the bathroom or something, one of these people – called “seat fillers” – temporarily takes their seat, so the cameras will always see a full house.
I would have loaded my joke on John Travolta’s teleprompter, and then fled the scene.
Can you imagine Will Smith’s reaction if, when he started forward to receive his Best Actor Oscar an hour after slapping Rock for even mentioning Pinkett’s name, Travolta read out, “Will Smith is coming to the stage now, and I’m sure he won’t mind if we provide a” – and here Travolta would give a leer and the “Belushi brow” – a ‘seat filler’ to take his place!”
If Smith was willing to slap Rock for saying his wife’s name, what would he have done if Travolta suggested that his wife’s seat was going to be filled the minute Smith left her side? If you know what I mean.
So let’s review what we’ve learned in the last week:
Saying that we’ll respond to chemical weapons attacks “in kind,” does NOT mean that we’ll respond with chemical weapons.
Saying that our soldiers will soon go to Ukraine really means that they’ll soon go to Poland.
Saying that, “For God’s sake, [Putin] must not remain in power!” does NOT mean that we’re going to remove Putin from power.
A “don’t say gay” bill is a bill that does NOT contain either of those three words (Even though hordes of leftist morons are chanting that word all over the country, as if they are meretrices working a niche market advertising their wares when the fleet is in port.)
And here’s what we already knew:
Trans women are not women.
Open marriage is not marriage.
And the Oscars are not worth watching.
It’s been a long 13 years, and it’s only been 61 weeks.