Gather round, as we once again revisit the darkest, most closely guarded secret of Oscar night: that the world's most famous awards are not, as the layman believes, chosen by a large voting body of "Academy" "members," who make their "selections" based on arcane rationales and long-established "grudges." You know, rationales such as, "Isn't it time we finally gave an Oscar to Martin Scorsese?" or "Those really annoying Norbit ads are swaying me away from Eddie Murphy" or "Can I still vote for Babel, even if I slept through half of it?"

Such a system would be arbitrary, egregious, and unfair. And does that sound like the Hollywood way?

Of course not! Which is why, instead, the Academy Awards are picked by five decrepit clones of Karl Malden, who convene each year in a secret bunker buried deep beneath the Hollywood sign, where they start each meeting by having a large, well-muscled Samoan named Brett bang a large gong.

Listen in, O Reader, on the deliberations of this hallowed assemblage. Marvel at their wisdom! Cower at their sniggering wit! Cringe at their continual referencing of their own shriveled man-stems! Behold! And be ye afraid!

[GONG!]

Malden #1: Thank you, Brett. I should start by saying that it's a year like this that makes me proud to be associated with the movies. That refreshes my faith in the so-called "dream factory," which this year really did make my dreams come true. Because finally, finally, Hollywood has released a mainstream film in which a little girl strips naked to the funky sounds of Rick James.

Malden #2: What?

Malden #3: It did!

Malden #4: I did not receive the screener!

Malden #5: I demand a recount!

1: Yes, yes, of course! Didn't you see Little Miss Sunshine?

2, 3, 4 and 5: Yes, of course, a delightfully quirky indie, the "fun" back in "dysfunctional," who knew one family could be so wacky and messed up? etc.

1: So you know what I mean -- if you know what I mean!

2: Um, but she didn't strip naked.

1: Of course she did! As a jay bird!

3: Uh, no. That would have been illegal. And creepy.

1: You mean she isn't naked at the end of the film?

2, 3, 4 and 5: Um, er, no, of course not, seriously demented, again: weird, I reiterate my disgust, etc.

1: Damn Chinese bootlegs! That's what I get for buying a copy on the New York subway. That vendor lied to me! I think! My Mandarin is rusty.

2, 3, 4 and 5: Sure, yeah, caveat emptor, etc.

4: But didn't you notice she was still fully clothed?

1: I was long asleep by then. I must have dreamed that last part. Goddamn you, Steve Carell! I thought it would be a comedy!

2, 3, 4 and 5: Sure, of course, it was a comedy, a delightfully quirky indie comedy for the whole family, mute teenager! etc.

1: Well, then, we have a problem.

3: What is it?

1: That's the only one of these movies I saw. Half of. I saw half of it.

2, 3, 4 and 5: Sure, of course, me too, slim pickings, lean year at the old cinema, had me and you lost me, etc.

4: I saw the first hour of The Departed. I left when I realized it wasn't a porn movie.

2: Legs de-parted! Exactly! They missed a real golden opportunity there.

5: Hey, me too! The same thing happened with The Queen! I was like, Where's Freddy Mercury? Naked?

3: I bet you wanted to see Mercury rising!

1: Well, a total lack of familiarity with the obviously thin and uninspiring field has never stopped us before.

4: Sure. And with the unending string of award shows that precede the Oscars, the acting categories are pretty much a foregone conclusion. I mean, say it with me, fellows: Whitaker, Mirren, Murphy and Hudson! Whitaker, Mirren, Murphy and Hudson!

1: No! We don't allow those pissant so-called "awards" to sway our decisions! We have more integrity that that. Our decisions are swayed by age-old prejudices, ignorance, outstanding gambling debts, and delicious, delicious alchohol.

1: I'll tell you one thing: Helen Mirren sure swayed my decision. She swayed it good.

1: Agreed! She's a hellion in the boudoir!

4: Oh yeah, Helen Mirren! Say my Dame! Say my Dame! What's my Dame!

1: She will be hard to beat in that category.

5: I'll tell you something else that will be "hard" to "beat" in that "category."

1: Please don't continue.

3: But what about Kate Winslet? She got good and naked in Little Children. Good. And. Naked. Emotionally naked, I mean.

2: And those were some sweet, sweet emotions.

1: True. But she'll have plenty of chances to win in the future. We've already nominated her, like, forty times. Who else?

4: Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada? She made a cold, icy bitch seem almost warm and human. And that white forelock. Outstanding.

3: More like an eightlock.

2: More like a leg lock. Yes! Quit your squirmin' 'cause here comes Sherman!

4: Dame Judi Dench?

2: I don't know about you, but I'd sure like to approach the Dench.

1: But she's not even the hottest Dame in the category this year. Plus, we gave her that Oscar once for that seventeen-second performance in Shakespeare In Love.

2: You know, that wasn't the only award-winning seventeen-second performance in history, if you know what I mean. I've shaken my spear. In love.

3: Yeah -- Courtney Love!

2: Hey! I truly cared for her!

1: Yeah, we all did, if I recall correctly. Or wasn't that your elbow jabbing me in the lower back? Damn you, bootleg Chinese Jägermeister! Who's next?

2: That's what Courtney Love said!

3: Uh, we've also got Penélope Cruz.

1, 2, 4, and 5: Yes! Of course! For sure! Oscar alert! She'll look ravishing in her dress! Give it to her! etc.

1: But wait! What was she in?

4: Something Spanish.

5: The Spanish Prisoner.

3: Prisoner Of Zenda.

2: Man Of La Mancha.

1: No, it was some action flick. Revolver! That's it.

4: I think it was just called Volver.

[Silence.]

1: Did he just say "vulva"?

[Silence.]

1: Penélope Cruz's vulva?

[Silence.]

4: No. Volver.

1: I think I just had an aneurysm. Brett! Bring me my aneurysm pills!

[Brett leaves, then returns with bottle of aneurysm pills. Malden #1 downs a handful with a glass of water.]

1: Thank you. Look, let's just give it to Helen Mirren and be done with it.

2: Where have I heard that before?

1: Next! Best Supporting Actor.

5: It's got to be Eddie!

1: Eddie?

5: Murphy.

1: Good one! But last I checked, Bowfinger wasn't nominated.

5: No, seriously. He's good in Dreamgirls.

1: Really?

2, 3, 4, and 5: Sure, yeah, surprisingly good, really matured as an actor, a dynamo! etc.

1: Does he also play a really fat man?

3: No.

1: Fat old woman? Does he fart on someone?

4: Nope.

1: And who's he up against?

2: Djimon Hounsou, Jackie Earle Haley, Alan Arkin, and Mark Wahlberg.

1: Wake me up when you say a name I recognize.

2: Come on. You know Alan Arkin. Remember that time? With the pool? And the eel? And the bootleg Chinese Jägermeister?

1: Only from the police photos.

5: And Mark Wahlberg -- he used to be Marky Mark. From the Funky Bunch.

1: Of course! Old Three Nipples! We had some great times together. The Bunch, I was never close with.

3: I don't know about all of you, but I don't want to sit here much longer. I've got a bit of a funky bunch myself. Down below.

1: All right, Eddie Murphy it is. But just make sure he understands that if we bestow on him the honor of being inducted into the hallowed ranks of the Oscar winners, he's got to give up those ridiculous fat suits and idiotic slapstick comedies.

2: Um...too late.

1: What?

5: Norbit.

1: No, thank you. It's a conflict with my aneurysm pills. Okay: Best Supporting Actress. Just read them off to me.

2: Okay, we've got Cate Blanchett.

1: Just gave her one. Next!

3: We've got Adriana Barraza.

1: I'm sorry to hear that, but there's a topical cream that will clear that right up. Next!

5: Rinko Kikuchi.

1: I can never solve those. Why can't they bring back the crossword puzzle? Next!

4: Abigail Breslin.

1: No strippie, no winnie. Got to teach them early. Next!

2: Jennifer Hudson.

1: Don't know who that is. Next!

2: She's the last one.

1: Then she's the winner! Congratulations, last one that he just said! Now we've got some momentum. Best Actor!

3: This is a real toss-up. Ryan Gosling was excellent in Half Nelson, but no one saw that movie.

1: I do love a good wrestling picture. Who else?

5: Peter O'Toole for Venus.

1: As far as I'm concerned, that old souse can move to Venus. I still won't vote him.

2, 3, 4, and 5: Hmmm, okay, don't quite get that, no obvious connection between award winners and interstellar travel, etc.

1: Let's just say that, once upon a time, I had my eye on a certain young lady. And who should sweep in and whisk her away but Peter O'Toole. And that lady's name was Anne Boleyn! Oh, I've never loved another.

3: I saw you banging Shannon Elizabeth in the stairwell the other day.

1: I said love! And besides, that was my Shannon Elizabeth RealDoll. Less chatty. And surprisingly pliant. Now, who else?

4: There's Leo DiCaprio.

1: Pretty-boy's got to work for it. Next!

3: Will Smith.

1: Won't Smith! Next!

5: Forest Whitaker. He was excellent as Idi Amin.

1: Oh, Idi! Delightful chap. He and I had some vigourous games of badminton together, before retiring to the steam room. Later, I'd have a private massage administered by Edie Sedgwick. If you know what Amin. See what I've done?

2, 3, 4, and 5: Yes, of course, bravo, not sure they were contemporaries, etc.

1: And I told Edie, "Make sure this story has a happy ending!"

2: An excellent note.

1: Oh my God! My crotch is bleeding! Damn you, bootleg Chinese Shannon Elizabeth RealDolls! Brett! A wet-nap, por favor!

3: Of course, the real toss-up is for Best Picture. I, for one, feel passionately about Babel, a stirring tale of global misunderstanding and the far-reaching effects of our inhumanity toward each other.

4: I'd like to add that the naked Japanese chick had some stirring and far-reaching effects on me.

1: Forget it! That movie was claptrap! If I want to see teenage Japanese girls flash me their privates while a Mexican housekeeper argues against her deportation and a wizened Moroccan woman offers people a pipe with dubious substances in it, I'll just go to Malden #5's house on a Saturday night!

2, 3, 4, and 5: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

5: After a few pulls on that sweet smoke, maybe even this movie will start to make sense.

3: I know! I mean, would the nephew really abandon her in the desert with those two kids? Why? And is it really plausible that no one would watch the kids for a few hours? And then she'd drag them to Mexico? Where they have no trouble crossing the border with two white kids the first time, but then get in a police chase on the way back? And we're supposed to feel bad for them? And what was with the other tourists in the bus in Morocco? Would they really act like that? And would those young kids really open fire on armed policemen? And the whole Japanese storyline made no sense, and was totally extraneous.

1: Um, excuse me? Malden #3, you sound dangerously well-informed.

3: I fell asleep after that. I swear.

1: Sure you did, Little Miss Arthouse.

4: Speaking of which, what about Little Miss Sunshine?

1: Look, if I want to hang out with a depressive gay Proust scholar, a Nietzsche-reading mute teenager, a heroin-using grandpa, a failed motivational speaker, and a pageant-obsessed little girl, I'll just go to Malden #5's house on a Sunday morning!

2, 3, 4, and 5: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

4: I know what you mean. It was like, "What? You couldn't fit one more by-the-numbers quirky character in that damned yellow van?"

1: Besides, as I've said before: No strippie. No winnie.

2: Truer words, my man. Truer words.

3: Well, then is it The Queen?

2: Frankly, I wasn't moved by this retelling of the events surrounding the death of Princess Di.

5: What?

2: The death of Princess Di.

5: Di's dead!?!

2: Of course. Dodi Fayed too.

5: Dodi's dead!?!

2: Yes!

5: Di and Dodi? Dead?

2: Yes!

5: Dodi and Di? Dead?

2: YES!

5: Why, Di, why? Why die? Why did you die, Di? And Dodi? Dead! Di and Dodi dead! Di...and...Dodi... Dead.

3: Wow. You're really out of touch.

5: Damn you, bootleg Chinese twenty-four-hour cable news service! Next you're all going to tell me that William "The Refrigerator" Perry is no longer playing professional football.

3: I for one refuse to reward a film about the monarchy of some foreign country. We struggled long and hard to get out from under the thumb of that decrepit despot.

1: I know I did. Long and hard. That Elizabeth -- her grip is firm.

2: Agreed, then? So it's The Departed?

3: Aren't we forgetting one?

1, 2, 4, and 5: Um, no, that's it, we got them all, our bases are covered, no omissions here, etc.

3: No, seriously. There's one more.

1, 2, 4, and 5: Um, no, don't think so, we've touched on them all, nothing left out, etc.

3: No, there is. Let me check the list. Oh, yes: Letters From Iwo Jima.

1: Oh, Lord. Oh, Clint. Look, as you all know, I not only love Clint Eastwood as a brother, I've loved Clint Eastwood with my brother. And we've certainly given him his share of undeserved Oscar tongue-baths in the past. But memo to Clint: Here's how not to win an Oscar. One: Make two nearly identical movies in the same year, so everyone's already confused. Two: Make the second one in Japanese. Three: Release it in five theaters. Forget it.

3: Forget what?

1: Nicely put. So we're agreed. The Departed, a good old tale of blood and retribution in Irish Boston, with real stars and real guts and that rocking Dropkick Murphys tune. Bitchin'.

2: Only one problem.

1: What's that?

2: It was directed by you-know-who.

1: Who?

2: You know.

1: Who?

2: Marty.

1: Oh no! What? That weasel! That ass! That scoundrel! I've said it before and I'll say it again! Martin Scorsese never gets that Oscar! Not on my watch!

4: I'm sure you've laid this out for us before, but what exactly is your beef with him again?

5: Yeah. You know, he's made some really good films.

2: We've really jobbed him in the past on Best Director.

3: Like, laughably so.

1: Really? What's my beef with him? What's my beef with him? I've only ever loved one woman in my life! One woman!

5: Shannon Elizabeth?

3: In the stairwell?

2: With the candlestick?

1: THAT WAS A CHINESE BOOTLEG REALDOLL! I'm talking about my tender, my lovely, my delicious Anne Boleyn. And he stole her from me! Martin Scorsese stole her from me! And because of that, he will never, ever, ever get his dirty drunken limey paws on an Oscar statuette. Ever!

2: Um, earlier you said that it was Peter O'Toole.

1: What?

2: Who stole her from you. Anne Boleyn.

1: What? I did?

2: Yes.

1: Wait a second. You're right. It was Peter O'Toole. Damn. I'm always getting those two mixed up. Yeah, sure, we can give the Oscar to Scorsese.

3: Wait. You mean all this time your grudge was based on a mistake?

4: You mean we gave an Oscar to Ordinary People over Raging Bull because of a mistake?

5: You mean we gave a Best Director Oscar to Kevin Costner over Martin Scorsese because of a mistake?

1: I guess so. I'm a little cloudy. It's these damned Chinese bootleg aneurysm pills. They mess up your head! Brett, we've got to stop shopping at The Chinese Bootleg Barn. All right! Our work here is done! Congratulations, gentlemen! A pleasure, as always! How about one last dirty double entendre before we go. Malden #5, will you do the honors?

5: Happy to. Dear Martin Scorsese. Sorry we fucked you over all these years. Please accept this Oscar statuette as a token of our regret.

1: I don't see the --

5: Wait for it. And by "Martin Scorsese," we mean "Adrienne Barbeau," and by "sorry" we mean "happy," and by "years" we mean "chairs," and by "Oscar statuette" we mean "flaccid man-prong," and by "regret" we mean...well, "love."

1: Yes we do, Malden #5. Yes we do. We're adjourned! Brett: bang that bootleg Chinese gong!

[GONG!]