By Robert Williams
After four dark months I’ve finally recovered from the coma induced by Ellen’s Oscar Selfie. I still can’t believe how awesome that was/she is/they all are. I mean, for a second there I felt like I was a celebrity. Remember when Ellen asked, “Hey, Lupita, you want some pizza?” How fucking great was that? Do you think she wrote it? God, it almost rhymed it was just like, like, it really felt like they were just like us. You know what I mean? Just sitting around, eating the pizza and watching the Oscars. I’ll admit it was a bit confusing when Julia Roberts grabbed the wrong end of the pizza, but still, she acted like she wanted a slice-and she did it so well you could hardly even tell even if she didn’t really want it. I bet if a street vendor rolled down the aisle with some smoking street meat they’d act the same way, they’d eat that meat, you’d never know the difference they’re so fucking talented and brave and inspirational and alive and generous.
When I finally woke up, Ellen’s Oscar Selfie was obviously the first thing on my mind. I read a few old periodicals mixed in the closet with my other possessions.