It's all meaningless, but the Oscar went to....
Crash wins Best Picture. As a cloying oversimplification of race relations, Crash is to baby-boomers what Driving Miss Daisy was to the greatest generation.
Ang Lee wins Best Director. Obsession with hot gay sex finally pays off. Brazenly, he doesn't apologize for Hulk.
Phillip Seymour Hoffman wins Best Actor. Obsession with lack of hot gay sex finally pays off. Truman Capote gets resurrected for another generation to ponder his boisterous mediocrity.
Reese Witherspoon wins Best Actress. America's sweetheart postpones a career-resuscitating Playboy spread for at least another five years. Coming soon: Legally Blonde 3: Matching the Drapes.
George Clooney wins Best Supporting Actor. Reminds middle America that it's frequently good to be out of touch with the heartland's need to be dragged kicking and screaming into civilization. Fox News programming schedule for the month of March writes itself.
Chronicles of Narnia wins Best Makeup. Hollywood tosses middle America a bone.
Memoirs of a Geisha wins Best Cinematography, Best Costume Design, Best Art Direction. Hollywood tosses studio investors a bone. And no, Brokeback Mountain wasn't the gayest film of the year... not by a long shot.
Salma Hayek, Jessica Alba, Jennifer Anniston, and Keanau Reeves present awards which allegedly reward talent. Irony police arrest all four and confine them to reality television.