Oscars Milk the Gays?

Warning: this blog entry is not intended to be as medical as my previous installments, but I have to get something off my chest. The Academy Awards, for some unknown reason, resonates with me on such a personal level that it borders on psychotic. The Oscar means more to me than any achievement – medical degree etc – that I have ever earned. Why it makes me so happy, those certain celebrities, who earn more money in a year than I will ever make in my lifetime, is so preposterous to me that I have to share it with you in order to alleviate my conscious. Consider it a Catholic guilt.

For starters, if Kate Winslet doesn’t win, I will slit my writs. “Surely you don’t mean that?” you ask. Don’t tempt me. Why is it that this juggernaut of an actress moves who moves me to tears time and again with her amazing performances needs to win an Oscar to make me happy is ridiculous. I should be content that she has been nominated 5 times before. Her life isn’t so bad to begin with. She’s married to Sam Mendes, an Oscar winner himself. They live happily, I’m sure, somewhere enchanted with their children. But no that’s not enough. I need her to win so badly that my boyfriend is ready to shoot me if I don’t stop asking him if he thinks she will win. In fact I have started to base my life upon it. 

But it’s not just Kate. There were others before her, like Marion Cotillard, Nicole Kidman, and Juliette Binoche. On the other hand they weren’t always winners. What about Michele Pfeiffer, Glenn Close and Julianne Moore? They have all suffered for their art and not one of them has won their just due award. Then there is the likes of Judy Stench, I mean Dench, winning for her role in Shakespeare in Love, a part that makes up less than ten minutes of screen time. Body of work my ass.

Okay so enough. All is good. Kate will win and Chad will not kill me for being so psychotic. But there is another issue. This controversy, or dare I say, lack of attention to a certain film called Milk. Yes, Milk. Everyone assumes that the sure fire winner this year for best picture will be Slumdog Millionaire. Some even say that it is a race between Slumdog and Buttons but its not. I predict the “Academy” will award Milk. And when I say award, I mean apologize.

Awarding Milk Best Picture will be Hollywood’s way to compensate for California’s vote to pass Proposition 8. I want to go on record to state that their apology is not accepted. Now I know I should be gracious and accept Milk’s win as a victory for gay men and women, but then that would be condoning society’s way of relegating us to the arts. “Throw the fags a shiny gold statue, and they will be happy,” I can just hear them say. But we don’t just want some tiny gold statue, although we will accept it. We want your respect.  We want your vote when it counts and not when you think it’s warranted. So if Milk wins, congrats to Gus Van Sant. Beyond that victory consider this gay people everywhere, “Beware of shiny gold statues because in the end they are on as good as the metal they are made from. Award shows are fun and glamorous, but after all is said and done we still will be without our civil liberties.” 

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