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If you get trapped by a mob of angry comic book fans, you scream: “Look! It’s Alan Moore and he brought scones!” And then you book it the other direction and don’t look back. Never look back and don’t stop running. Pretend it’s like Speed, except that you are the bus.
Two separate events — Spencer’s standing ovation and Lucas’ difficult production — held as prime examples of just how complex the issue of race is in Hollywood. The reality is that Hollywood has found a remarkable middle ground in being able to divert any debate regarding racism on screen by using up their quota to cover films that tackle, you guessed it, racism itself.
The Oscars are a night of glamour, glitz, and utter boredom. I was particularly dreading them this year since most of my favorites got snubbed (Shailene Woodley in The Descendants, Albert Brooks in Drive, Ryan Gosling’s body in Crazy Stupid Love). But, as they say, the show must go on, so I plopped down on my couch with approximately 3.5 orders of nachos from San Loco and waited to see what steaming pile of crap Hollywood was going to deliver tonight.