Thank ya Gawd for the Oscars. Actors and actresses are so under-appreciated in our culture, and I often lay awake at night, muffling tears in my pillow, as I think about neglected celebrities. Images of hollow eyed, distended bellied Tom Hanks and Gwyneth Paltrow looking at me through a mist of hazy heat and buzzing flies flash through my mind, and I just wish that someone could give them a little gold statue.
Then Sally Struthers pops up and is like, "Here, Tommy. Here's a Golden Globe for you." That's when I scream bloody murder and my roommate has to come in and rock me to sleep.
Golden Globe? Oh, Sally, no. And I see you reaching behind your ample backside for that People's Choice Award. Just stop. These are actors and actresses. Not Spelling Bee champs. They need statues that mean something -- statues that look like they could be made of gold-wrapped chocolate.
Every celebrity wishes he had an Oscar Meyer Wiener. That is what they truly want to eat. But when it comes to awards, the Oscar is second only to the MTV Movie Awards. I mean, Meryl Streep poots Oscars, but where is her MTV Movie Award for Best Lesbian Kiss?
I think we all know that Meryl's no Sarah Michelle Gellar. This column, however, is not devoted to demigoddesses. This column is about a day that my mom considers her Super Bowl, a show that my dad only tunes in to for the commercials. This column is about the 2003 Oscar race. Yes, I'm about to take a sledgehammer to the Oscars's kneecaps and handicap the major categories. Read on if you want to know who is going to win, lose and wear a dress that looks like a dead swan.
Best Actor: I feel like I should engage in civil disobedience over this category. Like throw paint on something made of fur, not eat granola until commercial break and grow my hair out into dreads and smoke lots of pot. I mean, where is Vin Diesel? The Academy refuses to recognize Diesel's performance in "XXX," despite the fact that he can both flex and say dialogue -- sometimes even while moving. Not since Lou Ferrigno in "The Hulk" has an actor so immersed himself in his craft.
The Academy nominates Jack Nicholson every time he arches an eyebrow, and Nick Cage every time he goes a week without washing, rinsing and repeating -- yet snub the actor who has come to define a generation. This is why I'm writing myself in as a candidate for Best Actor. I can arch my eyebrows like what. If I concentrate, sometimes one eyebrow at a time. I also have not washed or rinsed since last Wednesday. And I never repeat. I'm a shoo in.
Best Actress: I want to know why actresses are nominated when they just get ugly. Selma Hayek doesn't tweeze her eyebrows for a year so she can play the title role in "Frida," and suddenly the Academy is feeding her papayas and caressing her horrendous unibrow. Hey, Selma, for your post Oscar follow-up project, how about you do a "Sesame Street" biopic about Bert entitled "I've Got a Caterpillar Stuck on my Forehead."
Don't even get me started on Nicole Kidman. I saw "The Hours," and spent the first 30 minutes wondering why Virginia Woolf was portrayed as a half elephant, half Pinocchio walking schnoz. I say give the Oscar to Nicole's prosthetic nose and then make her snort it up one of those irregular nostrils.
Best Supporting Actor: I've always been a huge Christopher Walken fan, but feel that he should be disqualified from the category seeing as how he isn't human. Walken is a nut. A choosy mom's choose Jif peaNUT from the planet "Who-Really-Talks-Like-That-uto." I say give Walken the statue, and make an American Idol contestant the presenter. Stick 'em, Walkie. Stick that Kelly good.
Best Supporting Actress: I think Meryl Streep needs one more Oscar to round out her collection to 365. That way she can have an Oscar for every day of the year. And put a pilgrim hat and musket on the Oscar that's designated for Thanksgiving. In fact, I think the Oscar should no longer be called an Oscar. The Oscar should just be called the Meryl. So, yeah. Give Meryl the Meryl.
Best Picture: "The Lord of the Rings" isn't distinctive enough from the first installment of the trilogy, and if director Pete Jackson wants his to-be-released third movie to have a chance at Oscar gold he should think about retooling the title and concept. Make it "Lord of the Dancing Rings" and insert River Dancer Michael Flatley via savvy editing. Then do some reshoots where Frodo and Co. stop all that fighting and simply have heated dance-offs. Sort of like "West Side Story" minus the Jets but plus the frenzied Irish jig as seen through the lens of hobbit.
As it stands, no Oscar for "Rings," because my girlfriend has an unhealthy obsession with its Stevie Nicks-looking elf, Leggomyeggo. Besides, everyone's all a talk about "Chicago," and actors/actresses that can sing, dance and pout simultaneously. I say musical theater needs to stay on stage, because you don't want to give "Cats" any ideas (painful shudder at thought of "Cats" on big screen). Still, if I had to place my Terrier on any one picture nominee, I'm going to go with "Pianist" because I can't say it five times fast without giggling. Tee-hee.
I reiterate, thank ya Gawd for the Oscar, or (ahem) the Meryl. Actors and actresses need to be recognized for their work or Tom Hanks and Gwenie Paltrow will get distended bellies, despite strict microbiotic diet regimens, and haunt me in my sleep with crater-looking eyes that crave gold. I still, however, think Vin Diesel was robbed, and perhaps a makeshift Best Inanimate Object category should be formed for emoting of his caliber. In summation, Jake's Academy Awards ballot reads as follows: Best Actor, me; Best Actress, Nicole Kidman's shnozola; Best Supporting Actor, Christopher Walken (only if he tap dances to Fatboy Slim); Best Supporting Actress, Meryl Streep; and Best Picture, Pianist Pianist Peanist Peanis Penis.
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