F--k You, Award Me.

Ok, I know I've gone over this before, but I feel it's something I need to stress.

You must get me a goddamn Oscar.

I've taking this to the legions of our nation's football fans because you, if anyone, understand the notion of a meritocracy. As such, you know that those who reach the uppermost plateau of achievement are those who truly belong, not some media darling people assume deserve something by pedigree. Just look: a gritty, unassuming team like the Colts just won the Super Bowl, for the love of fuck.

See, what I'm driving at here, wise-ass son of a bitch, is that a grave injustice is being done every year I don't get that award. I'm one of the four directors whose names you know, and that's why I know I can count on you.

Also, what I like about you guys is that you don't have high-flown notions of what a Best Picture film should be. There's no Hollywood politicking. None of that shit. No campaigns, no last minutes surges or what the fuck. Admit it, my movie was one of three you saw last year. You saw The Departed, you saw the new Rocky movie and you saw Borat. You might have seen that high school football movie with the Rock and the other coloreds, I don't know. Bear with me.

Yeah, okay, I know, Borat made you laugh and, yes, between guffaws, you though about the festering racism that lurks just beneath the patina of normalcy that is American life. It's omnipresent, that stuff. It also had that nasty 69 scene (stolen from me!) and a few quotes you can repeat ad nauseum to your hungover friends working on the factory floor. DON'T TRY TO REMEMBER THEM!

The new Rocky movie wasn't as horrendously bad as you might have feared, and that's really all you can recall about it. If you recall, it was only the original Rocky that beat out Taxi Driver for an Oscar. DON'T TRY TO REMEMBER IT!


But then, my movie. A true paragon of cinematic achievement. A masterstroke of Hong Kong film remakery. Virtuosic, even. Tarantino, that little fuck, is impressed.

I mean, remember the head shots? There were at least 10 of them.

Patriot Act jokes? That's fucking topical. Does that mean nothing to you? You had your head up your ass watching Bridge to Terabithia since 9/11, is that it?

That's what I do. Make gory, nay, visceral films with snazzy jazz soundtracks. Always have.

Ok, I could understand in years past when I lost out to stellar films like Dances With Wolves, but look at the parade of schlock they got me going up against this year:

Babel is a bunch of scarcely interlocking, depressing nonsense with some vaguely geopolitical undertones. It had nice young Japanese girl tits in it, but, overall, totally unfocused. Babel is like hippie ADD.

Little Miss Sunshine features a 10-year-old acting like a prostitute. I tried that with Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver. Let me tell ya, doesn't win you any awards.

The Queen was some overwrought bullshit about the reaction to Princess Diana getting killed. Coulda used some negro junkies, I think. No. Wait. Maybe. Yes., okay - scratch that. But it would have been somewhat compelling, except she dies in a car accident. Where are all the head shots? Rogue paparazzo with PTSD from some war photography - I don't know, work with me -whips out a Desert Eagle and splatters her royal head all over the street. Do you know what a .44 Magnum would do to a vagina movie? People would watch that.

And, finally, that squinty fucker Clint Eastwood is back trying to rip another statuette from my mythic grasp like he did two years ago with "Girlfight II: Now With Less Michelle Rodriguez." Listen, if you want to watch a movie that humanizes people trying to kill American troops, I think you're sick. At least my movie has Americans shooting up fellow Americans. In the head.

Ok, we done here? Great, now I have to plead with the NASCAR people. Dumb fucking mental midgets are probably still hoping Brokeback doesn't win this year either.