Yep, That's About Right

I didn't watch The Oscars as I find the notion of millionaires giving one another awards, and expecting proles such as myself to find it both entertaining and educational, to be a distasteful practice.

Also, in our dull, flat, and witless century, everyone must be reduced to a racial, sexual, and class label, just as Marx and Lenin thought best, so that we may find identity by seeking grievance against one another and be more easily manipulated served by our elite class.  This new, post-Christian manner of regarding the human race serves well such occasions as it gives a posturing platform to those who desire to signal their virtue and moral superiority, such as Hollywood actors, the most indulged and self-indulgent class of people to exist since 4th century Rome.

[In keeping with the hyper-racial manner of our times, the alternate, virtue-signalling reason I give for not watching is that no American Indian was nominated for anything at all.  So, I'm the Spike Lee of half-breeds.]

[A related note: Tribal members don't use the term "Native American" as it is inaccurate and moronic.  It is better to refer to one's specific tribe, if you know it.]

If you feel the way I do, or are at least interested in alternate opinions, there is nothing more medicinal than reading a Hyde Park-style screed from a British newspaper:

Not content with bashing us with overblown tales of planetary doom and rape epidemics, the Oscar worthies also gave us a generous dollop of identity politics. Everyone tried to outdo each other in the race and gender stakes. ‘I care about black people!’ was the undertone of petty much every statement of the night. Madly wealthy actresses, dripping in diamonds, complained about their pay. Sam Smith dedicated his award to the ‘LGBT community around the world’ and suggested he was the first openly gay man to get a gong. Not true. Sir John Gielgud got one in 1981, 11 years before Sam was born. Facts were the biggest loser last night.

I know what you’re thinking: ‘Blimey, sounds like a heavy night! Still, at least they didn’t talk about paedophilia.’ They did. The producer of Spotlight, a film about priestly child abuse in Boston, a flat, tension-free, washed-out drama that mystifyingly won Best Film, thanked the Oscars for ‘ampli[fying] the voice’ of survivors of clerical sex abuse, and said the voice might now become ‘a choir that will resonate all the way to the Vatican’. Yep, it’s Oscars vs Vatican now. Saving the planet, rescuing women from harm, overhauling one of the oldest religious institutions on earth — is there anything the luvvies can’t do?