Mama don’t allow no Oscar commentary ’round here

If I stay within the context of the song, I’ll say, “We don’t care what mama don’t allow. were’ we’re gonna bash those Oscars anyhow.”

Assuming I’m in a mood to be fair, I’ll have to confess I didn’t watch the Academy Awards last night–or for years, truth be told.

I stopped watching years ago because the show was: (a) too long, and, (b) filled with snarky, politically correct preaching. Talk about movies and the arts and stay away from politics, I want to say. But–I think you can guess this–nobody asked me.

I heard that the powers that be messed with the show’s format last night, including where the songs appeared and the order in which the winners were announced. Every year there’s some outrage like this which, I supposed, could add another reason (“c” for those keeping count) why I don’t watch the show. And then, too, every year somebody supposedly gets snubbed. I’m staying away from that one this year.

I’m very hard of hearing, so I can’t hear movies shown in a theater. This means that when the Oscars are awarded, I haven’t seen most of the movies and–should the powers that be–not show any clips from those movies during the show, I’m completely in the dark. Sooner or later, I see most of the good stuff on TV with captions and cheaper popcorn.

So now that all the hoopla and hype has come and gone, I can breathe easier until the next awards show comes along and pre-empts all the stuff I’d rather be watching. Sorry, mama, but I can’t resist saying that the world would be better off if the Oscars were awarded without TV coverage in an abandoned warehouse in Omaha.

–Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell

Publisher: Thomas-Jacob Publishing

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