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Despite both the rancid politics and products that come out of Hollywood, I was drawn to the Oscars last night. Chalk it up to that cliched phenomena of watching a bad accident. With the war in Iraq escalating, I became anxious by the possibility of at least one inane statement, no doubt cloaked under the guise of thoughtful protest.
So I kept the set on ABC while I dabbled on my computer last night.
The ceremonies, of course, were surprisingly subdued. Subdued, that is, with the exception of that trollish, pasty, pyotic bloat bag that calls itself Michael Moore.
With yet another infantile tantrum, Moore's flippant attack of the war and the President once again illustrated that in grave times of global unrest, no one likes a wise-ass; even as Cameron Diaz twirled her hair in a stoned-glaze while thinking, "if I only had a brain..." (God, what a shot). If you want to protest the war, you better not make it a light-hearted affair. Heart-felt concerns and pensive expressions are one thing; obnoxious quips delivered by gargoylish smirks are quite another.
I strongly suspect Moore is too stupid to realize this, thus the dominant booing which greeted his hissy fit. I'm sure he still doesn't get it.
But, alas, this is Hollywood. Although the majority of the audience clearly didn't appreciate his behavior, they certainly appeared to love Moore's film. Even the freedom loving Libertarian Kurt Russell somehow felt compelled to get up and applaud the man who won a documentary award for a piece of fantasy. (Kurt, sit down!) This, I suppose, is proper ettiquette, and ultimately the classy thing to do.
Moore spoke a lot about living in fictitious times, with a fictitious President. He is grossly incorrect, however. This is hypocritical behavior coming from a Socialist whose Bowling For Columbine could rightly have won an award only for the non-existent category of Fictitious, Propaganda Wet Dreams.
So I kept the set on ABC while I dabbled on my computer last night.
The ceremonies, of course, were surprisingly subdued. Subdued, that is, with the exception of that trollish, pasty, pyotic bloat bag that calls itself Michael Moore.
With yet another infantile tantrum, Moore's flippant attack of the war and the President once again illustrated that in grave times of global unrest, no one likes a wise-ass; even as Cameron Diaz twirled her hair in a stoned-glaze while thinking, "if I only had a brain..." (God, what a shot). If you want to protest the war, you better not make it a light-hearted affair. Heart-felt concerns and pensive expressions are one thing; obnoxious quips delivered by gargoylish smirks are quite another.
I strongly suspect Moore is too stupid to realize this, thus the dominant booing which greeted his hissy fit. I'm sure he still doesn't get it.
But, alas, this is Hollywood. Although the majority of the audience clearly didn't appreciate his behavior, they certainly appeared to love Moore's film. Even the freedom loving Libertarian Kurt Russell somehow felt compelled to get up and applaud the man who won a documentary award for a piece of fantasy. (Kurt, sit down!) This, I suppose, is proper ettiquette, and ultimately the classy thing to do.
Moore spoke a lot about living in fictitious times, with a fictitious President. He is grossly incorrect, however. This is hypocritical behavior coming from a Socialist whose Bowling For Columbine could rightly have won an award only for the non-existent category of Fictitious, Propaganda Wet Dreams.