Hollywood’s hypocrisy-a-go-go

Hollywood uses the assault rifles they claim to hate so much, to insulate themselves from the American people they despise so much.

What’s perhaps so striking about Hollywood’s relentless moral preening is not just the mindless groupthink and hypocrisy, but how utterly clueless they are that no one either cares or is fooled for one minute by their pulpit bashing.

The Oscars’ ratings plunged to an all-time low as viewers refused to even bother tuning in for what they knew would be hours of non-stop preaching. As these self-obsessed cretins parade down the red carpet they are so absorbed in their million-dollar bubbles that they don’t even realise that everyone else can see they’re completely naked.

Moments after actress Frances McDormand employed her victory speech at the Academy Awards to demand diversity quotas in moviemaking, she was taught a lesson in diversity, good and hard, when her brand-new Oscar was stolen by a black megalomaniac.

Apparently unwilling to surrender her personal trophy to a person of colour, McDormand had the fellow put in his place in short order. What the thief failed to take into account is that Hollywood diversity, inclusion and equality of outcomes are strictly for other people. Hollywood will demand Joe Punchclock hand over his hard-earned as “reparations”, but ain’t no uppity diversity hire getting a piece of their glittering prizes. Just as the security who insulate celebrities from the stench of the hoi polloi won’t be required to turn in their guns.

McDormand’s diversity hypocrisy extends further, though:

Another question for Ms. McDormand might be: “Have you actually watched many of your husband’s movies? If you have, didn’t you notice how intensely white they are?”

To quantify this impression, I looked at the posters for all seventeen Coen brothers movies and counted a total of 58 stars highlighted by either a picture or large type. Of the 58, two Coen leads were black and one was Asian (all in The Ladykillers, one of their more forgettable films) … The other 52 of the 58 were quite white.

Out of their 17 movies, they’ve also only had two with strong female characters.

Despite their fashionable virtue signalling over the #MeToo witch-hunt, Hollywood celebrities spent Oscars’ night blatantly waving their dicks in their audience’s faces.

By handing a Best Animated Short Oscar to retired basketball star Kobe Bryant. Kobe spent much of 2004 on trial on charges of raping a 19-year-old white woman. But she eventually dropped her criminal accusation and settled out of court with him for an undisclosed sum. So I guess that makes it all right. Plus, she was white.

Then there was the awarding of Best Adapted Screenplay to a white octagenarian pillow-biter for Call Me by Your Name, a kind of gay Lolita wherein a teenage boy is buggered by an old friend of his father’s. The same rabid Twittermobs who crucified Milo for clumsily trying to justify relationships between teenagers and older men remained conspicuously silent.

Hollywood’s hypocrisy over illegal immigration was amply summed up Guillermo del Toro (whose movies I actually like, I might say), who used his acceptance speech as a bully-pulpit to hector middle-American “deplorables” about the wonders of Mexican immigration. The assembled millionaires dutifully cheered this rousing defence of Mexico.

Del Toro was banking on the fact that no one would remember, or certainly wouldn’t be gauche enough to mention, the very reason he has lived in the US for a quarter-century. At least, unlike the “Dreamers” the left fawns over, he entered the US legally because he was fleeing the murderous attentions of Mexico’s notorious drug cartels.

If del Toro’s sycophantic echo chamber of Hollywood elites and their media hangers-on were either too ignorant or too ideologically blinded to call out his blatant hypocrisy, be sure that many other Americans do see that the Emperors of Bel Air have no clothes. This is one reason why box office receipts, in steady decline for over a decade, plunged in 2017; why the Oscars reached the nadir of their appeal.

Just as ordinary Americans weren’t prepared to stomach a greasy, hypocritical political shill denigrating them as deplorables, they’re not going to put up with multimillionaires with armed entourages briefly taking time out from molesting each other, and their children, to wag their fingers at Middle America about guns and sexual harassment. Hollywood celebrities are shorn of any moral credibility, but they’re just too stupid and self-absorbed to see it.



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Who is Lushington D. Brady?

Well, a pseudonym. Obviously.

But the name Lushington Dalrymple Brady has been chosen carefully. Not only for the sum of its overall mien of seedy gentility, reminiscent perhaps of a slightly disreputable gentlemen of letters, but also for its parts, each of which borrows from the name of a Vandemonian of more-or-less fame (or notoriety) who represents some admirable quality which will hopefully animate the persona of Lushington D. Brady.

To read my previous articles click on my name in blue.