Fictitious Oscar Odds: Handicapping the 2015 Academy Awards!

All right boys and girls, it’s the most magical day of February the year: Oscar Day! All of your favorite stars will grace the red carpet in their finest dress wear and jewelry, wearing more money on their bodies than you make in a life time. It’s cool though. You’re rocking your pajama pants and withering Chive On t-shirt, all while eating your pint of Ben and Jerry’s Blue Berry Depression. But as Hollywood participates in its annual circle jerk, climaxing numerous times on national TV with copious amounts of moaning and wailing, let’s find a way for you to make some money off the people receiving gift bags worth $100,000. I promise I’m not cynical, I JUST WANT ONE OF THOSE FUCKING SWAG BAGS!!!1 Anyway, here is my yearly obligation to you, the reader: It’s the 2015 Fictitious Oscar Odds. *Formerly known as the dumb shit I make up*

10 million to 1: Meryl Streep will win the Best Supporting Actress category

Oh, what a surprise; Meryl Streep is nominated again this year. Listen: Meryl Streep is fucking legit. She could make deep throating a lollipop look artistic and moving. The problem is, Meryl does nothing but lose. After racking up 15,000 nominations and only amassing a few wins, Meryl is pretty much the Chicago Cubs of actors. She has a massive following, is lovable, and ultimately fails in the clutch. The only difference between the two is that Meryl Streep is a fucking god, and the Cubs continuously find new ways to fall ass backwards. People laugh with Meryl Streep, they laugh at the Cubs.

2 million to 1: John Travolta doesn’t fuck up his presenting duties

Poor John Travolta. Last year he fucked up big time by butchering the name of the woman who sings the biggest movie song of all-time (editor’s note: I’m not sure it’s the biggest movie song of all time, but it’s pretty popular; ask any 7-year-old girl or 40-year-old dad). As if Travolta didn’t have enough going against him, he still has shitty taste in hair styles and Gods. In any event, Travolta should just approach the podium this year exclaiming “gooblee gobble” over and over until a state of emergency is issued in the Dolby Theater, forcing the ghost of Chris Kyle to get one more confirmed kill.

250,000 to 1: Kirk Cameron will hold the theater hostage, demanding love and respect

I’ll be honest: I don’t see a big difference between Kirk Cameron and the Westboro Baptist Church. Both are absurd and crazy, and even then, at least the Westboro Baptist Church knows it’s ridiculous. Cameron’s head is so far up his own ass, he doesn’t understand why his latest film got obliterated on Rotten Tomatoes. In a fit of rage, Cameron is convinced by God- who obviously spoke through Cameron’s dog – to exact revenge on the Hollywood heretics and internet mavens who denounced his shitty film. Naturally, Cameron won’t use violence. He’ll merely form a prayer circle and sing My God is An Awesome God on stage…until he gets played off by the orchestra.

10,000 to 1: Selma will win Best Picture

The old white dudes that prop up the Academy Awards had a hard enough time nominating it, so can you imagine how hard it’d be for them to name it Best Picture? To quote one Academy member, “lol, black lives matter?”

1000 to 1: The show will have another shitty, pointless montage on hand.

The Academy has not only become predictable in the selection of films, but also the flaming turds they love dropping in the middle of the show. The last few years they’ve subjected us to a flurry of “genre” inspired montages, all of which usually pivot around some asinine film that the Academy wouldn’t even let lick its wart infested balls. One year they paid tribute to the horror genre with images from Twilight popping up. Desperation at its finest. Nonetheless, this year, the show will dedicate a montage to “Love at the Movies” (Editor’s note: I made this up. Proceed with caution), and it will feature 50 Shades of Grey and Marlon Brando shoving butter up his ass.

500 to 1: While backstage, Clint Eastwood agrees to direct “Brian Williams: Man Down (Or a Story from the Man Who Could Speak from his Ass)

With the success of American Sniper, how could Clint Eastwood not be compelled to make this movie??!!

 50 to 1: Chris Pratt ends up hosting the Oscars an hour in

Chris Pratt is the hottest commodity in Hollywood right now. Not only did he lead the charge in Guardians of the Galaxy, but he’s in Jurassic World this summer and is being eyed as Indiana Jones when Disney decides to shove the inevitable reboot down our throats. Chris Pratt has Hollywood by the balls, and I can’t help but think he’ll bag hosting duties in 5..4..3..2..

2 to 1: Technical award winners will still be rocking that ill-advised ponytail or facial hair.

These poor fuckers. They arguably have the most painstaking job when it comes to creating movies, and yet they put so much focus into their craft that they can rarely spare a minute to make socially agreeable moves like shaving off their pedophile mustaches.

Even Money: Lady Gaga will appear wearing a dress made up of midgets dressed as Oscar statues.

I don’t need to paint the picture for this one.

Even Money: Neil Patrick Harris will emasculate me

Every time I see this talented son of a bitch, I see nothing but some asshole living a life better than me.  I can’t dance, I can’t sing, and I definitely can’t rock a suit like him. All I can offer in this life is my hands down my pants, half-baked tweets, and a semi-reassuring gesture of love…like a handshake or something.


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