Til This Time Next Year

Ughh, the Oscars.
You have got to be the most abusive life partner in the history of the world.
All year long we wait around for your attention and when you're finished with us, somehow all there is to remember you by is the dull stench of take-out and a television headache to last us until next year's telecast.
Sick. That's the only word to describe it. Seriously, who picks this shit? For getting it so right when it comes to the nominations, are the winners just selected at random or is it via dartboard?
Alright, come on, Three-6 Mafia? Is there something we're just not understanding or is that possibly the worst rap song ever?
Like every old white Jewish fuck who votes for this shit thought it'd be really "BRAVE" to give the award to something out of the ordinary and controversial. Too bad in this case out of the ordinary and controversial translated to complete and utter crap.
Literally, how many times can a woman sing "Hard out there for a Pimp" without sending somebody into a seizure? WORST. RAP. SONG. EVER.
And "Memoirs of a Geisha" winning over and over again? How did this poorly reviewed spectacle end up winning just as many awards as the film that took Best Picture? Costumes a sane person can understand, but the rest of it? Are you bitches crazy or did somebody just lace your tea?!
And finally, what the eff is up with "Crash" winning Best Picture? Truth be told it's an incredible film but is certainly not any more well made or culturally significant than "Brokeback Mountain." Plus, frankly, is "Crash" even eligible? Didn't it come out like two years ago?
Again, Ughh.
Until this time next year, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, there has got to be a way to learn just how to quit you.