Wait a minute, Chris Rock is hosting the whateverth edition of The Oscars?
I last watched The Oscars in 1977, at a Vail ski lodge, stoned on some Thai stick that some kid in my group had shared. As I watched, eager to learn who had done the best work in film during 1976 I had an epiphany:
The Oscars are nothing more than a high school Homecoming event where the students have been replaced by the members of The Academy. Watching to learn about quality was nonsense.
I promptly changed into a bathing suit, walked outside, gazed at the night sky, slid into the water and spent the rest of the evening oscillating between the jacuzzi and the heated pool. But Rock hosting the #OscarsSoWhite?
Hold on, who am I kidding? I’ll just watch Rock’s highlights the day after.
 I was in Vail for spring break of my sophomore year in high school, on a trip organized by an outfit named something like Ski America, sharing a room with three other kids from north suburban Chicago high schools. College students were “chaperoning” all of us high school kids (our parents were back in Chicagoland). I had just turned 15. It was the ’70s, and I was a privileged kid.
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