Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Oscar Night Bum Fight

Once again I'm torn. I have an interesting sequence of photos to show you, and I can't decide whether to present them comically or straightforwardly. I want them to be sincere, but need them to be offensive, in much the same way I want to be sedated, but need to be lobotomised.

I will therefore present them both. The serious story will appear above the photos, the funny one captioned beneath in curly brackets (that's how you know something's funny, by the way - curly brackets). They also make a cool beret for your winkie, to give him that Continental flair... Ooh la la! {; )

* * *

About three minutes into the red carpet coverage of the Oscars I heard an argument in the alley beneath my window, over the possession of a certain valuable item. Once the sound of it had drowned out Shrillapalooza, I went to the window to learn more.

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{"That's my [Oscar] [Alan Arkin]!" "Fuck you [Eddie Murphy]! This is my [Oscar]."}

* * *

Naturally, things escalated, as they will do in a bum fight. Eventually the one not in possession of the cart tipped it over, which caused a certain lamenting by its owner, who was nearly pinned beneath it when it tipped. It was at this point I considered calling 911 to give Mr. 9/10ths of the Law his other ten. I mean, there was their privacy to consider, weighed against my own voyeurism and the fact that I just hate calling the police. This was a complex decision.

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{"If I can't have it then neither can you. CRASH!" "Fuck you [Eddie Murphy]!"}

* * *

Following this altercation (not to mention the lamenting) Pushy comes back and helps Guy in Yellow put everything back into the cart. This fragile entente is doomed to failure, though, and once again the angry talk escalates. If Hell is, in fact, Other People now is when he all broke loose; Pushy struck the first blow but the defender quickly overcame him. Two minutes of drunken flailing ended in what looked like pilates in prison, complete with grunting and f-words.

A hundred people walked past this altercation as it grew, most on phones, and no one even stopped; now there were six on their cell phones, frankly a waste of 911, when one call would have been fine. Not that it mattered much anyway. Oh well, at least the police will have six accounts to work from and/or confuse them.

One minute later the police arrived, and by the time Ellen hit the stage it was all over but the cleanup.

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{"[Alan Arkin] get the fuck off of me!" "Smell this [Eddie Murphy]!"}

* * *

Come to think of it, both of these were pretty offensive, on so many levels. Yikes!
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1 comment:

Seumas Gagne said...

Oh gods. That's hysterical.