I didn’t watch the Oscars last week, because I don’t care who other people say did a great job.
That’s their opinion, not mine, because I wouldn’t know.
The only movies I watch feature car chases, explosions, tracer bullets and start with a warning that viewer discretion is advised.
Okay, I might have watched a little of the red carpet action, but that’s only because I’ve always wondered how I’d look in a little something slit up the side.
Just kidding. I can’t wear cocktail dresses because I’d wipe my hands on them like I do my jeans.
“Oh my, God! He just got Cheetos dust all over the $10,000 Valentino!”
Besides, if I were so inclined and I did show my legs in public, I’d be besieged by fad diet outfits to turn pro, because people wouldn’t be able to eat for weeks:
“Lose up to 10 pounds a week guaranteed! Just one look at this pair of knobby pins before each meal and lose weight fast! Call now to order.”
But no, I didn’t look at the red carpet stroll either, because, one, I don’t care what other people wear, and, two, I can’t stand commentators who appear to have been looking at my legs for the past year.
Some of them are so skinny I suspect they have second jobs hanging on a stand in the corner of an anatomy lab.
I’m sorry, but the only time I do well with bony is when I’m picking them out of fried white perch. I also suspect that if I were to say, “Hey, nice clavicles,” I’d get sued.
But back to movie matters, what I find particularly annoying is the all-too-frequent advisory, “may contain strong language.”
What do they mean “may?” There’s no “may” about it. Either it has strong language or it doesn’t, and what I really don’t get is why so much of that sort of thing is now commonplace in movies.
I mean if 1942’s “Bambi,” were to be remade today, the female fawn, Faline, would say of young Bambi, “He’s kind of ^%$# bashful, isn’t he, Momma?”
Further, if the book sequel, “Bambi’s Children,” were to be adapted for the big screen, it would contain a least one scene that showed where little deer children come from. And then we’d find out how Thumper got his name.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not offended by profanity and have been known to employ it regularly myself. But these days it’s usage is so common that it’s hard work to come up with something that has real impact.
“Hey, you *&^%$!
“Good morning to you too, sir!”
Besides, why would I find movie profanity entertaining after spending eight hours a day in the middle of the real thing?
“Yes, *&^%$!, what do you &^%$# want now?”
Again, just kidding. The truth is it’s usually the other way around.
As for whether I will ever watch the Oscars, chances are slim. After all, I’ve seen the “Dirty Dozen,” “The Magnificent Seven” and “The House of Flying Daggers” 45 times each. What else could there possibly be?