Oscar's Gold
Fades To Yellow !
While Radioactive Sands Storm
Across Iraqi Skies.

by
Francis D. Grabau
( 3/24/2003 )

The unmentioned Movie with the largest budget and a cast of millions is playing all around the Globe: BAGHDAD IS BURNING

It wasn't nominated for 'Best Picture' by the 75th Academy Awards Corporation.  But, has it occurred to anyone that since the US uses depleted Uranium (waste product of 'yellow cake') in its bombs, mortar shells, tanks and bullets, and since this stuff is directly related to the first Gulf War Syndrome...well, ...literally billions of radioactive particles are flying with the sand as this storm blows across the desert ?  That means that aside from ALL Iraqis suffering serious health effects from radiation, we may also expect that 6 months to a year down the road, the British, Australian, and American troops will be coming down with serious illnesses too.  Which illnesses, of course, the Pentagon will REFUSE to acknowledge until after thousands of protests have been made, and endless reams of paper forms filled out.  There's no 'winner' in this War...but the youngest kids will be hardest hit, and the fury that builds toward America will come rolling down upon us like some Fanatical Tsunami swinging a scimitar.

Meanwhile, Bruce Willis, Mel Gibson, and Ben Affleck
-to name just a few of those Movie Stars who made Oscar's gold turn YELLOW the other night-
are noticeably NOT fighting in the deserts of Iraq though they 'play-acted' in the repulsive Hollywood Propaganda Films glorifying war and suddenly pouring off the Corporate Assembly line leading so many young men to believe that old lie, " Dulce et decorum est pro Patria mori! "

Kathy Bates said it all when she pointed to Oscar's butt on World-Wide TV saying:

" This is his ASS! "
Then she pointed to her mouth saying:
" These are my LIPS! "

Then she kissed Oscar's Corporate Ass with her Lips for all the Nation to see!

Et Verbum Caro Factum Est! 
Let's hear it for Holy Celebrity in Corporate,
Kiss-Ass-America!

And for those who luckily escaped TV the other night, it's true that Michael Moore shamed the "fictitious" President and lashed out at the illegal, immoral, and unjust War which is America's Terrorist Attack against the People of Iraq.  But politically correct cronies -who DOMINATED the show- nearly Booed him off stage while Susan (Not In Our Name) Sarandon could only muster a V for victory with her fingers, and Barbara (Yentl) Streisand mouthed off about how glad she was to be in America where everyone is "free" to speak their minds.  Except, of course, for herself  -and all the other mealy-mouthed Movie Stars- most of whom "heart-felt-ly" deplore (in politically correct terms) war, but are pocketing exorbitant salaries from "Stupid White Men" corporately controlling the Illusions we so fondly live by and call the Movies or Celluloid Democracy  -a facile trick of sound and light !  It's supposed to look good and convincing on screens everywhere. 
But, the 75th Academy Awards Show was a perfect illustration of everything that's corrupt in America.

Anxiety moved intermittently over the faces of fashionably well-dressed movie stars, their friends, and relatives.  Repression had its rebirth from it's old McCarthy hey-day.  Everybody was behaving "at their best" -in politically correct terms.  The confusion and perplexity that flooded all those famous faces when Michael Moore spoke the simple truth was a sight to behold.  One face turned to another as actor after actor looked over his shoulder to see what expression was in vogue!  What 'method' should be used for this International TV Moment ?  Stanislavsky ?  Brecht ?  It was a black and shameful day for the Arts in America.  Our own "Royal Family" let us all down, precisely the way "blue-bloods" usually do.  Black Hawk Down, We Were Soldiers, Pearl Harbor, and Tears Of The Sun -all in our face at once.  Peter O'Toole did his elegant reprise of the Lawrence Of Arabia theme: noble, courageous, White Man uses all the Arabian Deserts as a masterful back-drop for his brilliant, historically inaccurate, but highly glamorous and narcissistic role.  Noblesse Oblige.  It's the Manifest Destiny of such hugely talented 'artists' to suck up to the money, circulation, and press that only "Stupid White Men" can provide them.  And don't it make your brown eyes blue!

Finally, Oscar's Ass has been vicariously kissed by all the World.  Consumatum est.  Yes, these are the folks who worship the phallic gold.  Stately, erect penises everywhere can relax now.  Requiescat in Pacem.

Meanwhile, Baghdad is Burning.  It's not a movie.  It's an Oscar-Sponsored War.  Helen Caldicott called it what it is, Missile Envy.  Kathy Bates boldly demonstrated that missile envy is in bed with Oscar's ass-kissing and very lucrative cowardice.  As all the feminists have pointed out, there's no glory in War,  -just testosterone poisoning and (in this war) black gold.  To that we may add that Competitive, Corporate, Capitalist art is on its way to oblivion.  Down with Oscar's CCC.  KKK ?

Okay, men, let's not take this lying down  -wave those flags, muscle those muskets, grab your white sheets and zip it out...
(the wallet, I mean, of course!)
Ta ta,
Zorro!

Response

Subject:
        Re: [Fwd: Radioactive Sand Storms While Oscar's Gold Fades To Yellow!]
   Date:
        Wed, 26 Mar 2003 14:40:47 -0500
   From:
        Netnous@aol.com
     To:
        starpath3@earthlink.net

Zorro,

My name is Bruce Willis and I was offended by your irrational harangue.  As an evolutionary celebrity vector, I have chosen
to focus love and light and project this into the very celluloid you have chosen to denounce.  If your nadi channels were
engram free, you would pick up on the transformative intent of my very image as it is projected.  However, you have chosen
to slander my colleagues, as well as myself, insinuating that we are misinformed..when all we are doing really is to
manifest world peace.  Just so you know, we, that is, celebrities, are the balance. We hold the keys.  With each movie
ticket you buy, you are being blessed, reactivated cellularly and compelled to strive for an omega point which otherwise
would not be available to you.  That omega point is Arnold Schwarznegger's pineal gland.  (I am not permitted to reveal
more of this endocrinal esoterica to you-although I hold the pitutiary position and Demi Sesquiquadrate holds the thyroid
position)  so please reconsider, if not revise your stance on what happened during Oscar night.  In the words of George
Bush Sr. 'there is no peace movement.'
Ta Ta,
Bruce





PS: Jaye Beldo aka THE LONE NUTTER
writes provocative essays, book reviews, and assorted other 'goodies'.
His work may be found at: The Konformist, Paranoia Magazine, Disinfo.Com, Viewzone and other venues on and off line. He can be reached at: Netnous@Aol.Com  http://www.konformist.com/2002/zerzan-beldo.htm

 
 

                   I’D LIKE TO THANK THE VATICAN
                   By Michael Moore - March 27, 2003

                        Michael Moore fesses up to his Oscar day ‘mistake’ –
                        Going to Mass first

                       A word of advice to future Oscar winners: Don't begin Oscar day by going to church.

                        That is where I found myself this past Sunday morning, at the Church of the Good
                        Shepherd on Santa Monica Boulevard, at Mass with my sister and my dad. My problem
                        with the Catholic Mass is that sometimes I find my mind wandering after I hear something
                        the priest says, and I start thinking all these crazy thoughts like how it is wrong to kill
                        people and that you are not allowed to use violence upon another human being unless it is
                        in true self-defense.

                        The pope even came right out and said it: This war in Iraq is not a just war and, thus, it is a
                        sin.

                        Those thoughts were with me the rest of the day, from the moment I left the church and
                        passed by the homeless begging for change (one in six American children living in
                        poverty is another form of violence), to the streets around the Kodak Theater where
                        antiwar protesters were being arrested as I drove by in my studio-sponsored limo.

                        I had not planned on winning an Academy Award for "Bowling for Columbine" (no
                        documentary that was a big box-office success had won since "Woodstock"), and so I had
                        no speech prepared. I'm not much of a speech-preparer anyway, and besides, I had already
                        received awards in the days leading up to the Oscars and used the same acceptance
                        remarks. I spoke of the need for nonfiction films when we live in such fictitious times.
                        We have a fictitious president who was elected with fictitious election results. (If you
                        still believe that 3,000 elderly Jewish Americans -- many of them Holocaust survivors –
                        voted for Pat Buchanan in West Palm Beach in 2000, then you are a true devotee to the
                        beauty of fiction!) He is now conducting a war for a fictitious reason (the claim that
                        Saddam Hussein has stockpiles of weapons of mass destruction when in fact we are there
                        to get the world's second-largest supply of oil).

                        Whether it is a tax cut that is passed off as a gift to the middle class or a desire to drill
                        holes in the wilds of Alaska, we are continually bombarded with one fictitious story after
                        another from the Bush White House. And that is why it is important that filmmakers make
                        non-fiction, so that all the little lies can be exposed and the public informed. An
                        uninformed public in a democracy is a sure-fire way to end up with little or no democracy
                        at all.

                        That is what I have been saying for some time. Millions of Americans seem to agree. My
                        book "Stupid White Men" still sits at No. 1 on the bestseller list (it's been on that list now
                        for 53 weeks and is the largest-selling nonfiction book of the year).

                        "Bowling for Columbine" has broken all box-office records for a documentary. My Web
                        site is now getting up to 20 million hits a day (more than the White House's site). My
                        opinions about the state of the nation are neither unknown nor on the fringe, but rather
                        they exist with mainstream majority opinion. The majority of Americans, according to
                        polls, want stronger environmental laws, support Roe vs. Wade and did not want to go into
                        this war without the backing of the United Nations and all of our allies.

                        That is where the country is at. It's liberal, it's for peace and it is only tacitly in support of
                        its leader because that is what you are supposed to do when you are at war and you want
                        your kids to come back from Iraq alive.

                        In the commercial break before the best documentary Oscar was to be announced, I
                        suddenly thought that maybe this community of film people was also part of that
                        American majority and just might have voted for my film, which, in part, takes on the
                        Bush administration for manipulating the public with fear so it can conduct its acts of
                        aggression against the Third World. I leaned over to my fellow nominees and told them
                        that, should I win, I was going to say something about President Bush and the war and
                        would they like to join me up on the stage? I told them that I felt like I'd already had my
                        moment with the success of the film and that I would love for them to share the stage with
                        me so they could have their moment too. (They had all made exceptional films and I
                        wanted the public to see these filmmakers and hopefully go see their films.)

                        They all agreed.

                        Moments later, Diane Lane opened the envelope and announced the winner: "Bowling for
                        Columbine." The entire main floor rose to its feet for a standing ovation. I was
                        immeasurably moved and humbled as I motioned for the other nominees to join my wife
                        (the film's producer) and me up on the stage.

                        I then said what I had been saying all week at those other awards ceremonies. I guess a few
                        other people had heard me say those things too because before I had finished my first
                        sentence about the fictitious president, a couple of men (some reported it was
                        "stagehands" just to the left of me) near a microphone started some loud yelling. Then a
                        group in the upper balcony joined in. What was so confusing to me, as I continued my
                        remarks, was that I could hear this noise but looking out on the main floor, I didn't see a
                        single person booing. But then the majority in the balcony – who were in support of my
                        remarks – started booing the booers.

                        It all turned into one humungous cacophony of yells and cheers and jeers. And all I'm
                        thinking is, "Hey, I put on a tux for this?"

                        I tried to get out my last line ("Any time you've got both the pope and the Dixie Chicks
                        against you, you're not long for the White House") and the orchestra struck up its tune to
                        end the melee. (A few orchestra members came up to me later and apologized, saying
                        they had wanted to hear what I had to say.) I had gone 55 seconds, 10 more than allowed.

                        Was it appropriate? To me, the inappropriate thing would have been to say nothing at all or
                        to thank my agent, my lawyer and the designer who dressed me – Sears Roebuck. I made a
                        movie about the American desire to use violence both at home and around the world. My
                        remarks were in keeping with exactly what my film was about. If I had a movie about birds
                        or insects, I would have talked about birds or insects. I made a movie about guns and
                        Americans' tradition of using them against the world and each other.

                        And, as I walked up to the stage, I was still thinking about the lessons that morning at
                        Mass. About how silence, when you observe wrongs being committed, is the same as
                        committing those wrongs yourself. And so I followed my conscience and my heart.

                        On the way back home to Flint, Mich., the day after the Oscars, two flight attendants told
                        me how they had gotten stuck overnight in Flint with no flight – and wound up earning
                        only $30 for the day because they are paid by the hour.

                        They said they were telling me this in the hope that I would tell others. Because they, and
                        the millions like them, have no voice. They don't get to be commentators on cable news
                        like the bevy of retired generals we've been watching all week. (Can we please demand
                        that the U.S. military remove its troops from ABC/CBS/NBC/CNN/MSNBC/Fox?) They
                        don't get to make movies or talk to a billion people on Oscar night. They are the American
                        majority who are being asked to send their sons and daughters over to Iraq to possibly die
                        so Bush's buddies can have the oil.

                        Who will speak for them if I don't? That's what I do, or try to do, every day of my life, and
                        March 23, 2003 – though it was one of the greatest days of my life and an honor I will
                        long cherish – was no different.

                        Except I made the mistake of beginning it in a church. ...