Monday, March 01, 2004
MASS CULTURE PRETENDER
Last night was the very first time I've ever watched almost all of the Oscars. I usually skip the Oscars because I never see any of the movies (this year I did watch one: Finding Nemo) and so they are an unpleasant reminder of how culturally strange I am (I'm a Dory fish!).
This year I knew someone who was attending the awards so I was able to keep myself absorbed by staring hard at each of the audience shots, hoping to spot him (he's not a celebrity; he's a biz guy). Of course, I didn't. Too many beautiful people crowded him out. But this Where's Waldo game turned out to be the hook that got me through the program and provided a ticket into the mass culture membership from which I've always been excluded. Finally, finally, I'll be able to participate in the office small talk instead of doing my usual confused but still-smiling tourist bit.
Newly emboldened by my feat, I decided to actually read the next day round-ups. After all, I was there in the television audience. This time, I told myself, I'll know what they're talking about! And so I do, sort of.
And that's all it takes for a blogger to become a big know-it-all and start handing out my own meaningless awards to other bloggers. Here goes:
Flushed with success, I remember that one of my friends said the way she learned to like baseball was to make a game of ogling the players' butts. From small beginnings ... on to the World Series!
This year I knew someone who was attending the awards so I was able to keep myself absorbed by staring hard at each of the audience shots, hoping to spot him (he's not a celebrity; he's a biz guy). Of course, I didn't. Too many beautiful people crowded him out. But this Where's Waldo game turned out to be the hook that got me through the program and provided a ticket into the mass culture membership from which I've always been excluded. Finally, finally, I'll be able to participate in the office small talk instead of doing my usual confused but still-smiling tourist bit.
Newly emboldened by my feat, I decided to actually read the next day round-ups. After all, I was there in the television audience. This time, I told myself, I'll know what they're talking about! And so I do, sort of.
And that's all it takes for a blogger to become a big know-it-all and start handing out my own meaningless awards to other bloggers. Here goes:
Laura of Apt. 11D wins a Bloscar for elegant summarizing (hat tip: Daniel W. Drezner). Sample:I am so keyed in....Eurotrash gets one for empathetic envy speculation:
Renee Zellweger. Shut up.
Sophia Copella. Damn you. That should be me.
Jude Law. Babe.
...And as Madonna sat there last night munching on her tofu popcorn and watching the man she used to have sex with winning an Oscar, I wondered did she hate him? Did she throw things at the TV and rage loudly how some people just get the lucky breaks and some people never get the full appreciation their talents deserve? Or did she get out her personal copy of Swept Away, shove it in the DVD player and weep bitter tears of loss, abandonment and bile.
Flushed with success, I remember that one of my friends said the way she learned to like baseball was to make a game of ogling the players' butts. From small beginnings ... on to the World Series!
