Don’t Care About Oscar? #Me Too…

So in order to Insure the Domestic Tranquility I hunkered down on the couch in front of the flat screen Sunday night and slogged though The Usual Dreck as presented by My Betters in Tinseltown.

Predicable and boring to a fault, All the Right Noises were made by All the Right People.

A few scattered (some might say scatter-brained) observations on The Proceedings:

It was a Night in Old Mexico writ as large as Guillermo del Toro’s belt size. Mikey Moore’s Hispanic doppelganger made a Tired Point about his immigration status – he is one, doncha know!

Big whoop.

To which I am compelled to respond with my own Tired Point about the immigration kerfuffle: what part of Legal versus Illegal Immigration Status is so confusing to you?

G-Man, email me c/o Sparta and I will walk you through it.

Next was the cloying and not for a second heartfelt required “Salute to Our Veterans”.

Having Jane Fonda drag her plastic-surgery poster child ass out for A Big Award shortly thereafter kinda put the lie to that sad little ploy.

I couldn’t help but think that down at the Whispering Palms Surgery Center Dr. Rudy Graveline was having a Major Chuckle.

The Oscar for Most Obsequious Talk Show Host since David Letterman went to Jimbo Kimmel for his condescending Tribute to the Little People Who Pay Our Inflated Salaries – the losers who shell out fifteen bucks a pop to sit in a skanky movie theater and watch the Latest Drivel Hollywood come up with.

Of all the Wrong Way Rubs endured over the bloated extravaganza’s three hours and forty nine minutesKimmel’s “spontaneous” trip to the show-house across the street to distibute Milk Duds, Dots and Junior Mints with a few Obviously Acting Actors in tow was the Highest Moment of Condescension in a production awash in them.

Pro Tip for Next Year: pull the same stunt again only this time be sure to have collected the Gold and Diamond Swag from the 100K Swag Bags handed out to The Stars and Starlets and circulate The Bling amongst the Hoi Polloi therein gathered.

Hey, Hollywood is the Dream Factory.

There’s mine.

Finally, just to put my Male Insecurities on Full Exhibition, was it just me or did the set for This Year’s Festivities not resemble a gigantic crystal Vay-Jay?

Not since Ridley Scott presented H.R.Giger’s nightmarish visions of ladyparts in the original Alien has there been a Scarier Vagina on display in Hollywood.

Take that Harvey Weinstein…


Bruno Strozek

Written by Bruno Strozek

Bruno Strozek is the author of occasionally semi-coherent piffle and has been a Writer/Editor at Sparta Report since July 2016.

Strozek, along with his alter-egos the decadent, drug-addled Sixties refugee Uncle Bruno and his intolerably feminist SJW Cousin Brunoetta have been riding the not-yet crested wave of deplorability with posts covering politics, sports, entertainment and zombies.

Aptly described as both "hilarious and deeply disturbed" Strozek has enthusiastically embraced the recommendation of the late Raoul Duke that "when the going gets weird the weird turn pro."

Although he has fallen far short of his bucket-list goal of writing for such respectable rags as The National Enquirer and The Weekly World News Strozek is grateful for the opportunity to pen his unhinged screeds at Sparta Report and is constantly amazed and delighted at the reception his pieces receive in the cements.

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