You know, them Hollywood left coast elitists are really starting to peeve me. They’ve been in sourpuss mode ever since Donald Trump got elected, and I think most of their rancor has less to do with Hillary losing than it does the American public soundly rejecting their brass-ovaried propaganda. Oprah and those trained house cats on The View and anybody and everybody who has ever had a TV show on HBO, they don’t just want to be entertainers who make millions of dollars a year anymore, by golly, they want to have enough power to shape American society itself.
Bill Maher and Lena Dunham and Katy Perry – all rich, stuck up, snotty white folks who couldn’t be more out of touch with Walmart America if they came here on Plutonian rocket ships – demand you think the way they do and vote for the people they do and support the legislative goals they do or else they’ll try to convince everybody in the world you’re some kind of Russian Neo-Nazi Klansman wife-beater. These folks are every bit the McCarthyists McCarthy was, only with way more double chins and slobber spatterin’ everywhere when they talk.
Which brings us to Meryl Streep, America’s finest actress over the age of 200, who walked up on stage at the Golden Globes (aka, the “Practice Oscars”) and accepted a lifetime achievement award for her unforgettable performances in such American cinema classics as She-Devil and The Ant Bully. So anyway, she waddled her brittle old bones up onto the podium, and as expected, cut a WCW promo about Donald Trump without ever actually saying Donald Trump’s name and claiming he made fun of a guy with some kind of mental disability and that gravely offended her. Which, as we all know, is a whole hell of a lot more distasteful than getting Tom Hanks and Daniel Day Lewis and The Danish Girl to PRETEND to have mental disabilities and giving ‘em Academy Awards for so convincingly acting like they’re retarded and have Down syndrome. I mean, it’s not like 95 percent of Hollywood acting gigs for disabled characters go to clearly not disabled actors and actresses or anything, right?
But by now, we all know that’s how Hollywood operates. They’re the kings and queens of transference. Everything they attack in general society is what they secretly are. For example, this is a multi-billion a year industry that has no problem wringing the necks of the Catholics for giving altar boys the bad touch, but when it comes to Hollywood’s own problem with X-Men directors and Nickelodeon producers molesting minors, they suddenly become about as blind to the subject as Stevie Wonder in a heated game of Marco Polo.
The Hollywood Industrial Complex constantly bombards filmgoers and TV watchers with the menace of “white privilege,” but what do you know, damn near EVERY studio big wig in Southern California is whiter than fresh off the assembly line mayonnaise. The head honchos at Paramount and Universal and Disney are literally the most privileged people on the planet and they have the audacity to pick on working class honkies as the embodiment of everything wrong with the capitalist system – and you wonder why movie ticket sales and TV ratings are down across the board?
Alright kids, I’m about to quote a li’l bit of Streep’s speech, so if you’re eating anything, you might want to put it down for a while:
“ …this instinct to humiliate when it’s modeled by someone in the public platform by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody’s life because it kind of gives permission for other people to do the same thing. Disrespect invites disrespect. Violence incites violence. When the powerful use their position to bully others, we all lose.”
Aye, powerful words, indeed, except for one teeny, tiny little complication: didn’t you show up at a ritzy rich white person gala in NYC dressed up like Donald Trump – complete with exaggerated fat rolls – and acting like a boorish caricature of a womanizing frat boy? Yeah, it appears you did, making your entire impassioned spiel from above a complete and utter contradiction. Literally everything Streep railed against, not only has she herself done, she’s done so to personally attack the very object of her awards show diatribe. Even for Hollywood, that is some mighty impressive hypocrisy on display.
There’s a lot to digest – well, more like regurgitate, if we’re being honest – so I’ll gloss over all of the mumbo jumbo Death Becomes Her said about financing unscrupulous reporters to spread lies about the Trump administration and getting all excited about the four non-white people in the audience and zero in on the most important aspect of her tirade.
Get ready for it folks – the absolute stupidest thing anyone in Hollywood has ever said is coming at ‘ya in 3, 2, and 1…
“So Hollywood is crawling with outsiders and foreigners and if we kick them all out, you’ll have nothing to watch but football and mixed martial arts, which are not the arts.”
Now, I’m a pretty thick-skinned dude and nothing short of spray painting a swastika on the roof of my car in Denver Broncos colors is liable to irk me, but by Job, I took personal offense to that 3,000 year old mummy’s statement.
First off, that statement was DIRECTLY addressing me, because – and I have scores of people that can back me up on this – literally the only two things I watch on TV are football and MMA (hockey and boxing, I just livestream.) That withered old hag who looked like a stunt double from The Evil Dead even back in the 1980s had the GALL to say that this 30-year-old college-educated white-male-but-let’s-face-it-there-has-to-be-some-black-in-me-somewhere doesn’t have the cultural taste to appreciate the intricacies of movies like Manchester By The Sea, where rich white people walk around moping all over the place for two hours, or La-La Land, an all-out black culture appropriations fest starring that double shot of African-American acting excellence – Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone.
According to Barbara Streisand lite, I ought to feel ashamed not enjoying the rich, sociocultural merits of taxpayer-funded works like Chris Ofili’s photos of crucifixes submerged in his own piss and Robert Mapplethorpe’s enlightening gallery of S&M freaks having their anuses fisted and pissing in each other’s mouths as much as I do Thursday Night Football. FOR SHAME that I’d rather watch the College Football National Championship than the pretentious, predictable, paint-by-numbers hipster bait crapped out by privileged hacks like Spike Jonze and Wes Anderson. I’ve got to be a date-raping caveman racist to even dare consider the UFC a more entertaining – and physically impressive – type of performance art than such thought provoking live acts as a dude sleeping inside a bear carcass for two weeks and art school dropouts proudly showing off sweaters they knitted with their vaginas. Sorry honey, but I’ll never apologize for preferring my commercialized brutality over your subsidized nihilism, any damn day of the week.
And what’s this gobbledygook she’s trying to say about football and MMA not being kind to foreigners and “outsiders?” Maybe if that wrinkled old bag stepped outside of her ivory tower in Beverly Hills every once and awhile, she’d realize that there’s a ton of foreign born players in the National Football League, including perhaps the League’s breakout star of the season, African-Briton Jay Ajayi. The Chiefs’ kicker is Brazilian, one of the safeties for the Patriots is Jamaican and the Carolina Panthers alone have players born in Scotland, Tonga and Canada on their active rosters. Indeed, taking a look at the total number of non-U.S. born NFL players, I’d venture to guess there’s more international diversity on display than there is in the Screen Actors Guild. And if by “outsider” Streep means “not a white dude,” she’s certainly attacking the wrong entertainment juggernaut, seeing as how black players only represent a good 70 percent of the NFL.
But it’s that slight against MMA that pissed me off the most. Does that nipped, tucked and botoxed AARP member know anything about the sport other than what it’s acronym stands for? If so, she’d know the origin of MMA is a TRUE cross-cultural phenomenon, merging Brazilian jiu-jitsu with Japanese shoot-wrestling and good old fashioned American tough-man boxing. For god’s sake, the main event of the first UFC show ever was between a Brazilian and a Dutchman, with four black dudes plus a big old Hawaiian dude on the undercard.
From literally day one, the UFC has been far more diverse than the Oscars; go ahead, take a look at the roll call of Golden Globes nominees and compare that with the roll call of current UFC champions and you tell me which one is more “international” and “multicultural.” If anything, the UFC would be hit even harder than Hollywood under a hypothetical mass immigrant exodus (hooray for MORE anti-Trump scaremongering!) Compare and contrast the number of “native” talent comprising the top 100 Hollywood draws to the number of “native” talents comprising MMA’s top draws. While Hollywood has just two non-American born actors in its top 25 (both of them very, VERY caucasoid Australians), the single biggest star in MMA history is a barely decipherable Irishman, with a French-speaking Canadian and an Afro-Brazilian not far behind him.
But please, Mrs. Streep, do tell me how MMA isn’t a legitimate art form? Doesn’t it require physical skill and technique and form and years of training? If MMA isn’t an art form, that means it’s some sort of proletariat hobby anyone can do, like bowling and speed-eating macaroni. Surely, the dazzling athletic abilities of Jose Aldo and Dominick Cruz and Demetrious Johnson ain’t shit compared to all that scene chewin’ you did in August Osage County, and the incredible power demonstrated by Daniel Cormier, Cain Velasquez and Fedor Emelianenko don’t even register compared to the dynamism of your performance in The Devil Wears Prada (which, to your credit, did help put me to sleep WAY faster than any Nyquil product.)
And since MMA is the kind of ruffian, low-class “anti-art” any pleb off the street can master in no time at all (just look at how successful C.M. Punk was!), how’s about putting your buckets of money where your Polident-smeared mouth is? In response to Meryl’s derogatory comments about the sport of MMA, I humbly request that she herself step inside the Octagon for just ONE bout. You feel those goosebumps forming on your alligator purse skin, Streep? That’s a little something called “reality,” which is something you highfalutin, know-it-all-and-better-than-anybody-else actors and actresses ain’t too familiar with. None of this artificial, somebody-already-scripted-it for me rubbish, Mrs. I-Abhor-White-Privilege-Even-Though-I-Literally-Embody-It. There’s no make-believe in the cage, just you, your wits, and two taped up fists you hope land a split second earlier than your adversary’s. The only thing standing between you and a hospital bed is the depth of your training and your reaction time. Here, the worst thing that can happen to you isn’t a sub-$50 million opening weekend gross, but your skull literally being smashed like a snowglobe. You smell that, Streep? That’s called primal fear, something your laundry list of overrated Oscar bait has never inspired in the hearts of your audience. But us MMA fans? We breathe it in 12 times a night, almost 100 times a year.
Great art moves people. And the fact that hundreds of millions more people are moved by the NFL and MMA than your crappy, hackneyed movies, Mrs. Streep, ought to tell you who’s really out of touch with the modern world.