The Rise and Fall of the Oscars

For the first time in years, I did not watch the Academy Awards. Usually I tune in to inspect the dresses and hair of actresses who have a lot more money, time, and youth than me. My only opportunity to wear a gown like the ones poured on starlets would be “formal night” on a cruise ship or in the Mrs. Colorado pageant, which I have no plans or worthy-enough thighs to enter. Otherwise, it looks like my opportunity to wear gowns ended on my wedding day. I still appreciate beautiful dresses, of course. But I will wait until I am standing in line at the grocery store to thumb through People and admire the gowns. The checkout can use a touch of glamour anyway.

The lack of energy, money, babysitters, and time means we no longer go to movies on a regular basis. Having an opinion about which movie/actor/actress/makeup artist/studio lawyer should win and why is pointless and phony when I haven’t seen any of them on screen. We did see “Ray” two nights ago on DVD, and I was happy to hear that Jamie Foxx won. He did an excellent job, but the film left me with more questions than answers. We saw “The Incredibles” at an actual theater, which was nominated for best animated picture and won, according to the newspaper.

So there are several reasons why I find the Oscars less appealing as time goes by. Perhaps, in my busy brain, there is room enough for only one Oscar. And he isn’t bald, dipped in gold, and displayed on a mantle over a gas fireplace in Los Angeles. No, he is green, grouchy, and lives in a trash can somewhere on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

I created a handy chart that illustrates my point:

It clearly illustrates the inability for Oscars to co-exist, peacefully, in our house. For now.