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• If I Presented An Oscar Last Night

If I were a presenter on the Academy Awards, my remarks before giving the names of the nominees and announcing the winner (excuse me, announcing who the Oscar goes to . . . there are no "winners") would have gone something like this:

[Enter stage left with cell phone at ear. Close phone when reaching the microphone.]

"I understand that Linda Tripp isn't watching the show, but don't worry. She's taping it."

Uproariously laughter for the masses. The mass idiots.

"No, seriously, that was Linda on the phone. I can't tell you exactly what she said, but I'm sure she can remind me later..."

Mild laughter from the rest of the idiots.

"By the way, Whoopi, Linda thinks you're an *sshole, too."

Shock! Horror! Whispers of "Did he just say '*sshole'?" Murmur. Murmur.

[Outstretch arms like a scale.]

"Whistleblower . . . rapist . . . You decide."

Uncomfortable twitching from the audience. Murmur. Murmur.

"Of course, what's a little rape when the economy is so great. Hey, Roberto, do you know why we love Clinton in this country?" Effect Italian accent. "He makes-a the trains-a run ona time."

Spielberg grips the handles on his chair. Jaws are agape.

"Hmmm. I'd better watch out back stage. Whoopi's turning the most astounding shade of the Color Purple."

"The five nominees are . . . "

I wonder about these people who think that Clinton is a great man. The ones sitting in that auditorium who believe that "Juanita, what's wrong with you? Half the women in this audience would gladly go down on him, so what are you complaining about? Tramp."

I'll take the whistleblower any time. Forget and move on? Tell that to Elia Kazan.

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