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Let’s give Will Smith his due. He did a great service for the Oscars, because if he hadn’t slapped Chris Rock, the talk would have been how crappy and boring the show was yet again.
I was slapping myself to stay awake. Without Will turning it into Palm Sunday, the rest of the show was one long “in memoriam.” You also didn’t hear about their goodie bags — not to be confused with the D-bags in the seats.
Each swag bag contained more than $140 grand … including free liposuction. Yeah, free liposuction because Hollywood stars can’t afford to get their own fat sucked out of their bodies.
Hell, I’d do it for free. I’ll bring my own straw. I don’t know what that means.
The gifts also included an all-expenses paid trip to Scotland, with a three-night stay at a fancy castle, free construction for a home renovation, a four-night visit to a luxury spa, and a plot of land in the U.K. with a noble title.
Great. How does Sir and Lady D—–alot sound? And here you thought celebrities are a bunch of elitists. Really, they’re just like you and me.
I mean, who doesn’t get offered free plots of land for films that are worse than the one on my tongue when I wake up in the morning?
But I don’t mind him getting free trips around the world. I just rather they didn’t come back. But even though the stars can pay for all that crap, they still need the free stuff. It’s for their ego. It’s an offering to the gods, except these gods have lip implants.
And of course, thanks to Will Smith, we also didn’t get to talk about how truly lame this was.
WANDA SYKES: We’re going to have a great night tonight, and for you people in Florida, we’re going to have a gay night. Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.
Only the Oscars can make gay boring and tedious, because the Oscars are no longer about entertainment, but diversity for the sake of diversity.
But then they make diversity truly boring by making it painfully contrived. Their propaganda films with famous actors and music scores, lights, makeup, and wardrobe or worse. They’re as heavy-handed as Big Ben.
The virtue signaling has descended into the purely infantile, like a juice box with a rainbow on it. As wokeism spreads, the movies shrink and splinter into morose attempts at identity politics fantasy.
They aren’t movies, just messages with all the depth of a “coexist” bumper sticker. It’s no wonder they had the second-worst rating ever, and it would have been the worst if everyone hadn’t immediately texted their friends about the slap.
You know, if they’re smart next year, they’ll have Kanye West and Pete Davidson co-host. Hell, make fisticuffs a regular part of the show. At least give us a steel cage match for the best supporting actor.
But like my hairline, it’s only going to get worse. According to L.A. Magazine, starting in 2024, producers must submit a list of the race, gender, sexual orientation, and disability status of members of their cast and crew.
If a movie does not have enough of the right people on set, that movie won’t be eligible for an Oscar. Now put aside that this is already a tremendous invasion of privacy.
The criteria for winning best picture no longer includes being the best picture. It means checking off items from a menu. Imagine if that existed before, and what it would do to our classics.
“The Godfather” is now “The Godmother” because Vito is transitioning. “Jaws” would have been an evil white man instead of a shark. And don’t get me started with three men who identify as a baby. It’s pathetic.
You scream racism at the Oscars, and you could get them to do anything, including ditching quality for quotas. You wouldn’t want that process to decide who fixed your car or who removed your spleen.
But the folks who run Hollywood would. Imagine how this is going to play out in a couple of years.
OSCARS EXECUTIVE: Alright, my fellow Oscars judges, it’s a new year, new rules. What do you say we pick a best picture? Now, we can probably eliminate most of this crap. Did anybody see the George Washington biopic?
JUDGE: Too white.
EXECUTIVE: OK, how about the Harlem Globetrotters movie?
JUDGE: Too ablest.
EXECUTIVE: K, “Magic Mike 3”?
JUDGE: Way too straight.
EXECUTIVE: Heard that. How about “Tootsie 2”?
JUDGE: Not straight enough.
EXECUTIVE: OK, well, then what’s left then?
JUDGE: Well, there is this video of a cat scared by a toaster.
EXECUTIVE: Oh, well, that’s your best picture winner right there. We’re done.
JUDGE: Well, that was easy.
EXECUTIVE: I know. I’m going to go home and cheat on my wife.
So if the Oscars no longer rely on excellence, then why bother with them? After looking at their ratings decline, viewers have already answered that question.
But now that the Oscars are dead, maybe Hollywood could go back to making movies for people and not award shows, although like Kilmeade’s doll collection, it does make me sad because growing up, I loved the Oscars.
It was my favorite thing to watch besides Aunt Cora changing. The movie stars were huge, some literally. Remember Orson Welles? You’d see Frank Sinatra, Sophia Loren, Charlton Heston, Jimmy Stewart — real stars who had presence.
They rarely, if ever, spilled their guts or sold candles that smelled like their junk. Today, you look at the stars, you just see dresses and tuxes, but no stature.
They’re no bigger than the actual Oscar. And with the same charisma. Wokeism choked the golden goose. I bet you never heard of the movies that won because the box office receipts prove it.
That’s because we want entertainment and not a lecture. If you want a lecture, do what I do: Spend the weekend with Geraldo.
So, yeah, Will Smith was a jerk. But the Oscars should thank their lucky, forgettable stars that he showed up and made it memorable.
Maybe let him keep the gift bag. He could put it over his head the next time he goes out in public.
This article is adapted from Greg Gutfeld’s opening commentary on the March 29, 2022, edition of “Gutfeld!”