No one does decadent vulgarity quite like the Americans, and once again the Oscars are promising to make the best efforts of Caligula and Nero look like a Harold Pinter play performed on Cleethorpes pier. The media, of course, salivate like a pack of Pavlovian dogs over this tawdry affair, and the newspapers will be advertising this revolting spectacle of money, self-celebration and industrial-strength virtue signaling for at least a fortnight before it takes place.
Predictions, then. A lot of black people will win prizes. We cannot, incidentally, bring ourselves to call black people ‘people of colour’, as the phrase is an asinine one. The only people who are not people of colour are those invisible people over there. No, no. Over there. No matter how many awards are lavished, it still won’t be enough for the Liberal media or Spike Lee.
British television audiences are becoming inured now to dramas set in Wiltshire villages between the wars in which the parson is black, the postwoman is Chinese and the man who runs the sweet shop is a Sikh but, in the land of the (once) free, the thespian genocide must continue until the only whites you see on-screen are shoe-shine boys and bellhops. This, of course, serves only to salve the consciences of the white liberal elite, and will not bring down the black-on-black murder rate in Detroit, Baltimore or St. Louis.
Women will be the saints they deserve to be at this orgy of anti-patriarchal pabulum. The only way to defeat men is to remake movies with all-female casts, have every second line of a Marvel or Star Wars franchise yawn-fest a rebuke made by a woman and aimed at men, and to ensure that anyone who invents anything of world-historical importance is female. Everyone knows that or, if they don’t, by Christ they will be taught it. Men must never be forgiven for Graeco-Roman culture, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the printing press, the internet, the rule of law, the industrial revolution, massive sacrifice in wars to preserve freedom, and all the other mansplaining chaps have done to history.
Islam will not be mentioned, despite being the worst oppressors of women on the planet. Hollywood actresses, and their gay male counterparts, only think of the Religion of Peace® in a rather saucy way, as the only men left in Hollywood are cis-cissies. Greta Thunberg will of course be mentioned, as she is the new magic pixie and everyone wants a bit of that fairy-dust.
If Oscars success were measured in terms of mentions on the night, the clear winner will be Donald Trump. We will see Robert de Niro increasingly looking like a batty recluse yelling at kids to get off his lawn, we will see goblin-faced Leonardo de Caprio – what’s with all these Eye-talian names? – blaming the deaths of polar bears (whose numbers are actually increasing) on Trump’s fascism, and we will see a string of bimbos who make Lily Allen look like Lauren Bacall welling up as they talk about the future Trump is preparing for their adopted mulatto children.
The only place we would like to be on the night of the Academy Awards is inside the minds of some of the dissenters, and there will be dissenters. They are the ones who cannot say what they really think because their careers depend on conformity. They are the ones who are having to lie to themselves, unlike the great James Woods and Jon Voight, who believe there are but two genders, who don’t fall for any of this baloney. They will be the ones thinking, why do I have to sit a table along from Harry and Meghan, who are as ugly as pug-dogs, by the way, when I could be jazzing it up with Ricky Gervais and Laurence Fox?
Foxtrot Oscar comes, of course, from the NATO phonetic alphabet, and stands for FO. We are unable to attend the Academy Awards, sadly, as there is some paint drying that demands our urgent attention. But FO is the message we would like to send to the great and the good.