I just got done watching the Golden Globes show on TV, and that’s fun, to sit there with some bacon & horseradish dip and say shitty things about people who are famous. Also to make fun of the clothes these celebrities wear, mostly the women, because the men generally look the same, but if you put ’em on a sliding scale and concentrate, you can make proportionately weighted fun of the men for managing to look not quite right in a tuxedo because they couldn’t just go ahead and wear a regular tux like all the other guys, they hadda stand out, so they show up in a bad bowtie or weird shirt-collar, or one of those weird cuts with nonconforming lapels or maybe tails that look like they are from the future/past. The one thing any dude can wear and look good in, and some of these freaks can’t manage it. That’s Entertainment. We, the People, the Consumo-Pawns of the Entertainment Industrial Complex, are fully authorized and entitled to hate these people on our television screens during Awards Season, because, thanks to the benefit of our mass-dollars, we fund the movie screens and the TV they exist in. We own them.
Meanwhile, even with all the money we give them, these Hollywood weirdos need to think they are better than us and, deeper still, to remind us of this with their every perfect-toothed smile or unnatural skin tone glisten. These Award shows are carefully designed so people in the Entertainment Industry can congratulate each other publicly on one of them in each category being better than the others, and then they get all actor-choked up while they are reminding themselves in front of us about how great their jobs are and how what they do is important, and if they thank any civilians for whatever real people in the real world do for a living, it’s only because they made a movie or TV show about some real-life thing, so they are simply congratulating themselves yet again for being better than everybody who can’t make a movie or TV show about something they would never want to do in a million years because it’s not movies or TV.
This Argo movie is a perfect example. Hollywood is giving itself an award for a movie about how the idea of Hollywood saved some people who were trapped in Iran. This flick is a stone-cold lock for the Academy Award, man, get your money up if you think you know better and I will bet you, seriously, unless that’s illegal, to bet in my column. I don’t want to get anybody in trouble over a whole bunch of stuff that is as essentially meaningless as movies and TV. I mean, I love movies and TV, but I don’t take it seriously the way They (the Hollywood Foreign Press) want you to.
I mean, look at Jodie Foster, man, holy crap, she made a speech, that if it was anywhere else but at an award show for a buncha phoney-baloney Hollywood alcoholics and drug addicts, that speech would get her put in a padded cell, I think. She might even be in a padded cell right now, I wouldn’t be surprised. This speech Jodi Foster made will push the whole Al Roker pants-pooping incident right off the top level of the Internet until Lance Armstrong cries like a baby during that interview with Oprah that he’s doing so he can be Lance Armstrong again. Jodi Foster was at the Golden Globes award show to be awarded the Cecil B. Demille Lifetime Award for Outstanding Achievement in Excellence or whatever, but would Cecil B. Demille be up there on a stage telling people he wanted a date? What the hell is the matter with Jodi Foster? And Mel Gibson was sitting at her table looking like he was on powerful anticonvulsant medications, did you see that guy? And Jodie Foster is lecturing America about Privacy while we are viewing her children on TV watching clips of that time she played a teenage prostitute, while she’s up there blabbering like an auctioneer about being lonely or something. Entirely too much information, man. This was on par with watching one of those abused-animals commercials, you know? Meanwhile, Lena Dunham, who got a prize for her show “Girls” on the Home Box, even if she wore shoes she couldn’t walk in, at least she wrote her speech down ahead of time, and she wasn’t even sure she was going to win a prize, you know? She needs somebody to help her pick better outfits for these award shows.
I think I got a stomach ache watching Jodie Foster’s speech, I’m not kidding, it wasn’t the bacon-horseradish dip. I thought her head was gonna split open from that disturbing forced smile she employs to punctuate her remarks. I know she’s been under a lotta pressure in her life with that kook who shot the President because he wanted to be her boyfriend, which may or may not be on account of how she was in a movie about a kook who wanted to shoot the President or whatever. All I wanted to do was make fun of people wearing ill-fitting costumes and getting sloppy drunk on the Foreign Press and now I’m getting an ice-cream headache thinking about the hall of mirrors in my brain reflecting upon the career of Jodi Foster. She made a lot of good movies, though, and it was smart not to do that Silence of the Lambs sequel. I even thought Panic Room was pretty good.
Previously: Be Your Own Year