The Book-And-Crotch Act

As of late, my reading of Salon has diminished a bit due to a general lack of new content on a whole. I’m going to avoid jumping on the whole “OMG THEY’RE GOING BANKRUPT” bandwagon as frankly, I could give a shit.
Regardless, today we find a marvelous little number by Cintra Wilson called Hollywood Dons Its War Paint (ridiculous premium account required, but you can click through an ad to get a day pass), which is a terribly misnamed article when you’ve got excerpts like these:
What a conundrum. Hollywood vocally opposes the war, but the war is real popular in all those icky non-coastal parts of the country full of fat people who buy lotsa movie tickets, guns and bacon. Whaddaya do? Well, you take back that hot-pink, Galliano gownless evening-strap and don a serious wartime pantsuit. Actors: Act serious and respectful. Directors: Act thoughtful and concerned. And everybody: Act like the Oscars aren’t really happening — the movie industry isn’t really masturbating for itself in the mirror again, for a paying audience, because there’s a war on and that wouldn’t really be proper.
I like the line about “Get The Fuck Off The Stage music”, I’ll have to use that some time. Other than that, it largely echos most (but not all) of my Oscar thoughts from last night, so I’ll save myself some typing and just say you should read that. Hey, two birds, one stone.