I Didn’t Watch The Oscars Because I’m Better Than You

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I am better than you, peasants.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because film is an industry, and industries cannot be art, and film should be art, and the Oscars are supposed to be about art, but they are not. They are about celebrity sex tapes and sin.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I am an intellectual.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I am a free-thinking person and I choose my own media and do not need any sort of institution to tell me what’s good at all, because I knows what’s good, and I have my own opinions, and if you’re watching the Oscars then you’re letting someone else tell you what to believe, which is bad, and makes you a weak-minded person who is fragile like wildflower chains or thin glass and will never make it in this crapsack, terrible world.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I am very, very strong.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I don’t care about what my vapid coworkers have to say around the water cooler. Especially you, Lydia. Especially you.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I have my books.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because the Oscars are not Proust.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because my mother called me today and asked who I wanted to win Best Picture and I was like “pff!” and “psh!” and “pshaw!” …noises which were intended to make her understand that I do not care and am above such frivolous events, just as I was above her Tupperware party, an invitation whose declination I do not regret, even now, as I eat my leftovers from a plastic bag.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I am a minimalist, living on a handful of oats a day, with no coat hooks and no luffa and no TV.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I did not watch any of the nominated films, and only watched experimental films at modern art museums, even the weird ones about bodies doing weird things, and ships sinking backwards, for several hours on end, okay, on lots of drugs, maybe, and am just not feeling good anymore, man, idk, things just aren’t fine, I’ve thrown up more than I want to talk about.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I was raging against the machine. In some ways, I still am.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I was made existentially upset by the pre-Red Carpet coverage-coverage, and had to leave the room for a while, and got locked out in the yard and no one heard me knocking.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because iPhones have RUINED this generation.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because they remind me of my own inadequacies as a human, which is frustrating to me, and I cannot handle frustration.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I watched the Independent Spirit Awards the previous night *pushes glasses up bridge of nose* and I feel that they are a better commendation of quality American cinema, and that they champion more exciting and boundary-pushing films.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I only watch sad documentaries about sad topics, and do not enjoy watching things which are happy, such as celebration.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because they celebrate creation, and I can only destroy.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because I was standing upon the seaside, in a dress made of finest linen, feet bare, building sculptures made of sand, sculptures which were to be taken in by the rising tides, to be shattered in the wind and swallowed in water, sculptures which represented the impermanence of the human soul and were therefore the purest form of art there can be.

I didn’t watch the Oscars because Jesus came down from heaven for the big Revelations thing and took only me because I was the only one cool enough to not be watching the Oscars, and we’re going to go to his big forever-party in Jupiter’s eye, which is where heaven is, which is where you won’t be, you Oscars-watching plebs.

I didn’t watch the Oscars for the same reason I didn’t watch the Superbowl, which is that they are popular, and I hate things that are popular, and I hate you.