Dear Ellen, Dying Is Easy, Comedy Is Hard

The only thing worse than people not in our field trying to be funny is people in our field trying to be funny and failing.

El, the moment you said that last night was all about honoring the nominees, I knew you were in trouble. Except for the chorale of Foley artists, the Dreamgirls sequence and the shadow dancers, I was walking towards the light for most of the evening. If someone had stopped by with heroin, I would have gladly tied off and continued the nod I already had going.

We at home don’t give a shit about honoring the nominees. We're all about honoring the fashion, the hairdos and the bling. We’re also all about the mocking, which you ignored to the point of me missing Whoopi, the worst host ever, and wondering if you remembered you even were a comedian. Here were some things you apparently did not notice: The number of people wearing sunglasses. Do you not want anyone to know you’re here, Jack? Are you on the lam, Djimon? This is not Judge Judy, it's okay to be seen on camera here. El, Jack was bald. BALD. And you had nothing to say about that? And the next time you go into the audience to talk to Clint Eastwood and Marty Scorsese, please take some Crest White Strips and slip them into their pockets.

Hey, could you hear the click of television sets being turned off during the time that the terrified Penelope Cruz clutched her 35,000 dollar gown to her knees in an effort to avoid you vacuuming up the hem? Ellen, you’re an out lesbian; I counted on you for something more progressive than housework. And throwing a pack of wrapping papers to the band? The band? It doesn’t get any more hack than that. Well, by now you’ve read the reviews so you know. You’re one of The Departed.

Love, Suzy

For me, the best part of the entire show was Jerry Seinfeld shamelessly auditioning for and hopefully getting to be next year's Oscar host. He had punch lines! Timing! Attitude!

I also loved the shots of Larry David looking dour as his wife got the Oscar for producing An Inconvenient Truth, Reese Witherspoon smoking the red carpet and throwing their divorce in Ryan’s face, Helen Mirren celebrating being 61 and looking 72 and the barbecue ketchup and mustard set of Nicole and Naomi. Note to Cameron Diaz, origami does not become you. Note to Jennifer Lopez, the 1950’s are over. Note to Portia, Ellen has money, have a sandwich.

I'm now submitting a list that I hope AMPAS will consider as the new de facto rules for future Oscars.

1. You cannot touch your hair and move it out of your face more than three times during any single red carpet interview, Beyonce.
2. No one’s hair color can be the same color as their skin, Nicole.
3. No more than five Scientologists in the audience. (good luck with that one)
4. Bring back Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon to present every year so we’ll have something interesting to talk about the next day. God, please.
5. If you win, please don’t say I Love You to your wife. Seriously, if you’ve waited all this time to tell her that, you’re an asshole and she’s probably sleeping with her Pilates instructor anyway.
6. Please stop thanking your family for their support. Sure, NOW they’re supporting you but think back, way, way, way back to when they kept nagging you to get a real job and stop mooching off them. THINK HARD.
7. No more acceptance speeches by people who need translators standing by their side. Some of us have Christmas shopping to do and want to hit the stores before everything is gone.
8. Alcohol Alcohol Alcohol.

End of disappointed chat.