In Which I React to Award Nominations Again

The Academy Awards has to pull some weird, voodoo shit for me to make me angry about the Coen Brothers getting nominated for best director.

You don't get it. I love the Coens. Unhealthily, some might say. My therapist definitely says that (I don't have a therapist but if I did...).

I'm so convinced of the Academy's black magic, that I'm convinced that they put me and Spencer under a spell last night so that we got drunk enough to think going to a pool hall to drink even more than we already had was a good enough idea to call my mom to pick us up over, thereby giving me a hangover this morning and forced me  to reevaluate my life.

And then, at my weakest hour, they throw this shit at me.

What's weird is the nominations are actually cool. Jeff Bridges got nominated (won't win), Toy Story 3 got a best picture nom (also won't win), and the Best Supporting Actor category was comically weighted in the favor of the front-runners for the award (Jeremy Renner is great, sure, but did he really need a nomination for The Town? That joint was all Ben Affleck, man).

What sucks is that Christopher Nolan didn't get nominated for best director.

Again.

The guy that single handedly made talking about dreams cool again didn't get nominated for best director. Is there no justice in this world?

I tell myself every year I won't care about Oscar nominations, and every year I do this to myself.

But to be brutally honest, I think my head hurts more because of the hangover, not the Nolan snub, which I guess means I'm taking a step in the right direction.

I'll repeat what I said on my Facebook status. One, I hope that if Shia Labeouf has a stoner name, it's "Higha Lapuff." More important to this blog post though, is that Christopher Nolan will become the Alfred Hitchcock of our time in terms of making ridiculously solid movies and always getting snubbed.