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Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Really, people, did Seth MacFarlane ever stand a chance?
Anyone with even half a sense of humor had to be sympathizing with Seth MacFarlane about an hour into Sunday night's Academy Awards "ceremony", when this year's host clearly looked as if he'd just as soon go to a small bar somewhere and strike up an impromptu rendition of "Come Fly With Me."
Has there ever been an Oscar® broadcast where at least half the jokes didn't fall flat? Where a third of them weren't cruel to someone? Seriously, why the hate? Sure, the "We Saw Your Boobs" song was tasteless, but this is an industry in which one can't be taken seriously as an actress without doing a nude scene somewhere along the line (and Kate Winslet HAS done a lot of them, that's just a fact), while outside of Harvey Keitel and Ewan MacGregor and Jason Segel, how many actors have actually gone Full Monty? And wasn't that the point of the song? The truth hurts, doesn't it, folks? (Also, too.)
It may be that Borscht Belters like Billy Crystal are better able to softly land the offensive joke than the creator of the song "Prom Night Dumpster Baby". It could also be that in an industry full of self-important, self-styled artistes who even in quality fare are still creating popular entertainment, a guy who's made $100 million on fart jokes and cruelty to a sixteen-year-old female cartoon character and who waltzes into the industry and makes a funny movie about an id-dominated talking teddybear that grosses a half a billion dollars worldwide, is a bit too much of a reminder that not even the great Ang Lee is Rembrandt.
Using disclaimers is a time-tested method of cutting off criticism of the past. The comedians Louie Anderson and John Pinette tell fat jokes so no one can say they're fat. MacFarlane used his advance press last night to at least try to cut off the Worst. Oscar. Host. Ever. meme before a Hollywood community and its hangers-on could say it as if it were something new. The opening bit didn't fall as flat as many people seemed to think it did, but it was clear that Seth was playing to an extremely tough room. Yes, he didn't help his case, but there were seven writers credited for this broadcast, and only one of them was named "Seth MacFarlane."
Where the show's producers and writers went wrong was not in letting Seth be Seth, because aside from the aforementioned "We Saw Your Boobs", which has generated the expected pearl clutching from the usual suspects about misogyny and sexism and the glorification of rape culture (no, people, pointing out that even the most serious actresses seem to sooner or later earn cred by showing breasts is not "rape culture"; forcing women to have invasive vaginal ultrasounds after taking RU-486 and coming up with sodomized virgin exceptions are rape culture -- and calling satire the same thing just makes it impossible to address REAL rape culture) and the poor-taste John Wilkes Booth joke, there isn't a single joke that McFarlane uttered that wouldn't have been given a free pass if it had come out of the mouth of Billy Crystal.
No, where the producers went wrong was in building a show around movie musicals, and then not letting the host, who has a magnificent voice and a real feel for the American songbook, sing a medley of songs like "Ya Got Trouble" from The Music Man (and wouldn't he be an awesome Harold Hill?), and "Singin' in the Rain" and "On the Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady and for Goddess' sake, why didn't they let HIM sing "Razzle Dazzle" from Chicago instead of having Catherine Zeta-Jones' lackluster rendition of "All That Jazz"? Because the man knows his way around schmaltz music, and if they'd just let him use his magnificent singing voice, the press would have sung a very different tune (sorry) the next day.
What Seth MacFarlane did on this broadcast was hold a mirror up to Hollywood, and Hollywood didn't like what it saw. It didn't like seeing a sexist industry in which screenwriters and directors and prodcers whose sexuality hasn't progressed beyond "Look! Titties!" require women to get naked, but not men. It didn't like being reminded at what actresses have to go through to keep their figures and their youth, and of how much it takes to be a Melissa McCarthy or an Adele Adkins and put on an evening gown and dare to be fierce in it. It didn't like being reminded of the trophy dates of George Clooney and of the absurdity of "It's an honor just to be nominated" and of ageism and of how there still seem to be only three roles that are ever written for black men -- the badass, the noble slave, and the "Magic Negro". Seth MacFarlane drew a big fat magic-marker underscore under the reality that the Academy Awards broadcast is a giant, bloated exercise in self-indulgence, in which wealthy plastic people congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe (heh) because they go in front of a camera and play in honest stories of working people as told by rich Hollywood stars. There isn't a host in the world that can "be a good host" because the broadcast itself has become hopeless. Gone are the Sacheen Littlefeathers. Gone are the Michael Moores, daring to make a ferocious political statement on the stage. Gone are Cher in her crazy costumes and Bjork in her swan dress. Now we get a bunch of men in lookalike tuxes, and women who seem all to have rented their dresses from the same prom store. Maybe we can blame Joan Rivers for the irrelevance of everything except evening gowns, but no matter whose fault it is, this broadcast has become as unnecessary and irrelevant as the Miss America pageant.
So what I propose is to stop looking for the perfect host and put the damn thing out of its misery. No one gives a crap about who wins anymore, because it's all been decided already after the Golden Globes (which are a lot more fun to watch), the Screen Actors Guild and Directors Guild Awards, and the Independent Spirit Awards. The Oscar® broadcast is the second biggest anticlimactic event of the television year not called "The Pro Bowl". Oh, we still want to dish about the clothes. So let's just close up this Big Oscar Show, turn it back into a closed reception, and then set up the red carpet outside the Vanity Fair party. Because after all, the only thing anyone really cares about is seeing whatever glorious creation Salma Hayek is going to be wearing anyway.
Labels: Academy Awards, Family Guy, humor, hypocrisy, self-important blowhards, Seth MacFarlane, sexism, Shooting Self in Foot
Monday, September 24, 2012
How Very French Of Us
Mr. Brilliant and I have an agreement. It's the kind of agreement couples usually don't make unless they are French politicians, but we have agreed to it. It might not be right for you, but it's right for us. The agreement is this: I don't say anything about his Age-Inappropriate TV Girlfriend and he doesn't say anything about my Age-Inappropriate TV Boyfriend.
If your husband has to have an Age-Inappropriate Girlfriend, a TV one is the best kind to have, because she's not likely to call your house and pretend you don't exist, or burn your child's bunnyrabbit. And she's only around for an hour or two a day, if that, because she has your own life. And if the TV Girlfriend is not just pretty but also smart, snarky, and on a compatible side of the political fence, it's kind of hard to object.
That MSNBC's Alex Wagner is five years younger than Linda Ellerbee, who was Mr. Brilliant's original TV girlfriend back in 1983 when we met, was at the time, is somewhat troubling. But being the tolerant person I am, I'm not going to sweat it, even though Wagner is age-inappropriate in the opposite direction of what Linda Ellerbee was when Mr. B. was twenty-eight. Because I kinda like Alex Wagner too (though in a very different way), and because it's clear that Wagner's crush on former Pandagon blogger and current WaPo Broderian Wonk Ezra Klein is strong and true*, and because for four hours on weekends, we both spend time with MY Age-Inappropriate TV Boyfriend, Chris Hayes.
Here's just an example of why:
*I like to tease Mr. B. about the judgment of any good progressive female who can't recognize Ezra Klein's creeping hacktacularness and resulting obvious lust for the roundtable of George Stephanopoulos' weekly Mouse Circus (™ Driftglass).
If your husband has to have an Age-Inappropriate Girlfriend, a TV one is the best kind to have, because she's not likely to call your house and pretend you don't exist, or burn your child's bunnyrabbit. And she's only around for an hour or two a day, if that, because she has your own life. And if the TV Girlfriend is not just pretty but also smart, snarky, and on a compatible side of the political fence, it's kind of hard to object.
That MSNBC's Alex Wagner is five years younger than Linda Ellerbee, who was Mr. Brilliant's original TV girlfriend back in 1983 when we met, was at the time, is somewhat troubling. But being the tolerant person I am, I'm not going to sweat it, even though Wagner is age-inappropriate in the opposite direction of what Linda Ellerbee was when Mr. B. was twenty-eight. Because I kinda like Alex Wagner too (though in a very different way), and because it's clear that Wagner's crush on former Pandagon blogger and current WaPo Broderian Wonk Ezra Klein is strong and true*, and because for four hours on weekends, we both spend time with MY Age-Inappropriate TV Boyfriend, Chris Hayes.
Here's just an example of why:
*I like to tease Mr. B. about the judgment of any good progressive female who can't recognize Ezra Klein's creeping hacktacularness and resulting obvious lust for the roundtable of George Stephanopoulos' weekly Mouse Circus (™ Driftglass).
Labels: Alex Wagner, Chris Hayes, humor, snark
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Another reason to love internet memes
Nothing will ever beat I Am Aware of All Internet Traditions as far as I'm concerned, but this is all kinds of win.
Labels: humor, Occupy Wall Street, Teh Funny
Friday, September 09, 2011
All you need to know about the Republican candidates
This is all they've got:
Labels: And You Want To Give Power Back To These People?, Greedy Republican Bastards, humor, Ronald Reagan, taxes
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Meet Rick Perry
Note to Rick Perry: If you're going to run for president, it's probably not a good idea to get caught in poses that confirm what people whose votes you're going to need may already think about you:
(via)
(via)
(via)
Labels: And people want this lunatic to be president?, Christian Dominionism, Christofascist Zombie Brigade, humor, Rick Perry, rumors
Monday, August 15, 2011
I really need better posting titles.
Then when Memeorandum links to my posts, they'd look as funny as Tbogg's do.
Labels: bloggers, humor, you can't buy publicity like this
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Here's how demented I am
The first thing I thought of when I heard that "In the Arena" with Eliot Spitzer was cancelled was that "Weiner/Spitzer" would be a great name for an evening talk show.
(I think it'd be entertaining as hell, too.)
(I think it'd be entertaining as hell, too.)
Labels: Anthony Weiner, Eliot Spitzer, humor, sick motherfuckers
Thursday, May 26, 2011
You know, Sarah, you can take something for that
It happens more often once you get north of age 45. I take Tums unless it gets too bad; if it's really severe I take a Zantac 75.
If you think you've got fire in your belly now, wait till you start living on a diet of corn dogs, funnel cakes, and fried butter on the campaign trail.
Labels: humor, Sarah Palin, That Woman Is An Idiot
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The problem is that the lunatics will start believing this
Labels: humor, Stephen Colbert
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Best. Blog. Comment. Ever.
Comment to this article indicating that YHWH was once worshipped side-by-side with a fertility goddess names Asherah (known in other traditions as Ishtar). The article refers to Asherah as "God's wife".
Hi, God's wife here. Yes, I exist and let me tell you, it's a hard life, looking after the old man. For one thing he moves in mysterious ways, which might sound romantic but it can get pretty irritating during the course of eternity. I'm like, still still and eat your lunch, can't you? But it's been better in the last couple of thousand years because his only son has been sitting on his right hand, which restricts his mobility a little. But I wish he'd pay more attention to me. Uh oh, gotta go. He was playing with one of his planets again and he's completely trashed part of it. Now he's going to be depressed and start bitching about the atheists and how no one worships him the way they did in the old days, with the sacrifices and the burnt offerings. Boy, he loved those burnt offerings. I tell him, make your own burnt offerings already, Mr omnipotent smarty-pants, but he says it's not the same as when a bunch of ignorant, terrified humans do it. No fun. And he's a jealous God, too, but don't get me started on that. Okay, can't stay here gabbing all day. A woman's work is never done.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Caption this photo
I don't care who started it! Now you kids get along...or else!
(Uploaded with ImageShack.us)
Labels: Elizabeth Warren, humor, Tim Geithner
Saturday, August 28, 2010
I still miss their old voices...
...but it's nice to see Statler & Waldorf again:
(h/t: FDL, because I had no idea that there was NEW Muppets material on YouTube.)
(h/t: FDL, because I had no idea that there was NEW Muppets material on YouTube.)
Labels: curmudgeonhood, humor
Sunday, July 25, 2010
This is what happens when you try to have constructive dialogue with a Republican
Labels: humor
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Too bad you'll never see a woman feel comfortable doing this
A rebuttal to "Old Spice Guy":
Oh, sure, it's homophobic and sexist. And "Old Spice Guy" does have that winning combination of being ridiculously handsome, having great comic timing, AND perhaps the most musical name EVAH. But when Jennifer Hudson is shilling for Weight Watchers, I'm not holding my breath for Gabourey Sidibe to be the new face of Chanel.
(via Elayne)
Oh, sure, it's homophobic and sexist. And "Old Spice Guy" does have that winning combination of being ridiculously handsome, having great comic timing, AND perhaps the most musical name EVAH. But when Jennifer Hudson is shilling for Weight Watchers, I'm not holding my breath for Gabourey Sidibe to be the new face of Chanel.
(via Elayne)
Friday, June 25, 2010
Am I a bad person because I thought this was funny?
It came from Joe. My. God. Does that make it OK? Or am I violating the "It's Only OK to Knock Your Own Team Rule? I'm not sure....
Labels: humor
Monday, May 17, 2010
If he can turn lemons into lemonade, does that make him Jesus?
D.C. Douglas, formerly the Geico voiceover guy, shows there IS life after blacklisting. Hysterically funny life at that, too:
Labels: humor, satire, Teabaggers, wingnuttia
Friday, May 07, 2010
An unintentionally hilarious quote to end your week
As you may have heard, the Washington Times is up for sale, because the Rev. Sun Myung Moon's children can't agree on whether to continue to shovel money down the black hole that is the "newspaper". Apparently the entire operation is coming apart:
And this differs from the paper in its heyday....how?
Thanks everyone, you've been a great audience. I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitress.
Meanwhile, staffers who have survived a series of draconian layoffs report that snakes and mice have slipped into the newspaper’s building because the owners can’t afford exterminators to combat the infestations.
“There was a three-foot-long black snake in the main conference room the other day,” said reporter Julia Duin. “We have snakes in the newsroom.”
And this differs from the paper in its heyday....how?
Thanks everyone, you've been a great audience. I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitress.
Labels: humor, Propaganda, Washington Times
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Yeah. Because Rachel Maddow is such a rubber stamp for the Democratic hackocracy
Wow. Health care reform is only a day old and already Scott Brown's brow is sweating:
Don't forget to read the crawl at the bottom of the screen. It's hilarious.
Don't forget to read the crawl at the bottom of the screen. It's hilarious.
Labels: humor, Rachel Maddow
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Wednesday Big Blue Smurf Blogging: Cover your keyboard with plastic sheeting and duct tape before reading edition
The other day I was reading this post at Jezebel about so-called "purity balls" and one of the fathers in the piece set of loud alarms and screeching sirens in my own personal gaydar. (If you go over there, you'll see the one I'm talking about.) If I do say so myself, I have pretty good gaydar for a straight person. I'm not about outing, though, mostly because there are people who are so much better at it (and far more influential) than I am. But then there are those who transcend sexual orientation, who manage to get the point across without ever using the word "closet."
I bring you, Gen. J.C. Christian, Patriot.
I bring you, Gen. J.C. Christian, Patriot.
Labels: bloggers, closet cases, humor
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