The Oscars, an annual ceremony in which 90-year-old white dudes bestow awards to movies about gay and black people in order to feel good about themselves and further the illusion of cultural progress, took place last night. The show was, well, as boring as I just made it sound. Ellen brought the middle-of-the-road pleasant corniness you knew she would. Pink and Bette Midler performed. Shit was so boring I read The Two Towers during the acceptance speeches, but, to put things in perspective, there aren't many things more exciting than Sam and Frodo verbally sexting across the Dead Marshes for 50 pages. By now you know who dresses well and who doesn’t. There weren’t a lot of surprises here. The best part of Oscar night is seeing the jokes on Twitter and getting drunk enough to be honest about which 60+ actresses you would let gum you off.
And yet, the Oscars still captivate like no other award show can. We need that yearly reminder that movies are still important even though Oscar winners are more often seen on TV shows these days than in theaters. We need that reminder that Hermione grew up to be top 5 dead or alive. We need something to talk about after the Super Bowl and before the NBA playoffs. So, won't you join me in toasting the end—thank fuck—of award season?