Am I hosting the Oscars? I thought that little black guy was supposed to do it. Ah, some old homophobic tweets turned up, so he’s out and I’m in.
Wait a second. I just called him a little black guy. Is that racist? Like bad enough to get me replaced? I’m really kind of unprepared. I wasn’t even sure if they still did the Oscars.
It seems like calling whatshisface a little black guy is okay. Kevin Hart. I just looked it up. Like most people, I’m totally reliant on my phone. If my phone told me that Aliens and Predators had invaded and to hide in the forest, I would probably hide in the forest. You can’t get cell reception out there, so I’d never know when it was safe to come out.
I really don’t want to do this Oscars thing. You can tell I’m not focused. My mind is all over the place. I could tweet something racist and that would probably get me out, but it might get me in trouble, too. I have to do something in between–bad enough to get me kicked off the Oscars, but not bad enough to get me kicked off my show. Maybe if I referred to Kevin Hart as a negro, or my negro? That doesn’t seem bad enough, but what do I know? Maybe it’s the worst thing I could possibly say. Or tweet.
Even though he’s really tiny, I’m a little bit afraid of Kevin Hart, and not just because he’s black. Well, okay, it’s mostly because he’s black. But it’s also because he’s gotten weirdly muscular. I’m just reading about it now on my phone. So weirdly muscular. Just like Carrot Top. And he also seems really unstable just like Carrot Top. Maybe it’s best if I just host the Oscars and don’t tweet anything.
The more I think about it, the more I’m really afraid of both of those guys. Imagine them coming to your house. It would be terrifying. The only reason they would come together would be to come after you, and they would get loud and violent. Carrot Top would probably punch me in the face and give me a black eye, and that would be the end of my career. I could never show my face in public again after something like that.
Maybe I should just shut the hell up.
Dear Jimmy Kimmel,
Some of the things you’ve written in your question here are probably racist enough to get you disinvited to host the Oscars, but not enough people read this column for it to matter. Still, just in case, I’d suggest not going any more racist than that.
You made a lot of conservative enemies with all that heartfelt, teary-eyed healthcare stuff a couple years ago. It wasn’t quite as impactful as De Niro’s “fuck Trump” moment, but you have the advantage of people not thinking you’re a kooky old anti-vaxxer. Anyway, your classical liberalness combined with your whiteness, straightness, and maleness makes you the perfect fit for this year’s Oscars. The population at large is still terrified of The Cheeto, but they’re also pretty wary of the AOC movement. By next year, though, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s hotness will have converted so many people into SJW’s that the only acceptable Oscar host will be Wanda Sykes. So just go out there and have fun this year.
Dear Jimmy Kimmel,
This is total bullshit. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to be asked to host The Oscars? 2,000 years. Well, not quite that long. When were movies invented? Whatever, I’ve been waiting a long time, and I should be the fucking Oscars host. Sure, I could posses you (or whoever replaces you once the Academy finds out about your role in Hillary’s child slavery ring), but it hurts that they didn’t just ask me. No need to worry, though—I’m still a professional. I won’t let my bitterness get in the way of writing you a killer opening monologue like I did last time. Still, I can’t promise I won’t make your pants fall down while you’re giving it. When that happens, just go with it. The accompanying slide whistle sound effect will let the audience know the trou-dropping was a bit and not just a wardrobe malfunction.
Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to firstname.lastname@example.org, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan.