You know what, The Oscars? I’m a little sick of your cheek. You close down Highland for weeks, then you close down Hollywood for an entire day. You bring in tourists schlepping around tarted-up daughters who they hope to land on a casting couch. You cause traffic delays, you make my gym inaccessible, you make my apartment inaccessible. In short, for weeks at a time, year after year, you ruin my life.

But then you come on and you’re so goddamn engaging! You’re so shiny, and you have such nice dresses, and you say such nice things about equality and rights for the gays that we love so much here at Shady, and sometimes you even give awards to people who deserve them (rarely, sure - but when it happens, it’s worth it…KATE WINSLET I LOVE YOU MARRY ME).

Anyway, now that you’re all over, I’ve had some time to think about the whole situation. You have your high points, but frankly, you’re much more of a pain in the ass than you’re worth. Maybe you just tone it down a little? Or maybe, I don’t know, you move to New York or fucking Kansas or something. What if you happened on a ranch somewhere? The economies of small towns need you a lot more than we do, The Oscars. And they have less traffic, and those suburban housewives could use a little excitement.

The truth is, around these parts, the stars have long since left our eyes. Maybe it’s just time for you to go somewhere you’re loved, The Oscars. You deserve it.