Memo to Billy Bush: YOU ARE DUMB.
God, you fucking little parasite. I wasn't even planning on watching the Oscars, but it happened. So I'm sitting here, watching the countdown, and I'm seeing this guy. This... thing. This sycophantic self-parody of an entertainment reporter was cruising around the building, leaning over and annoying the living shit out of everyone anyone's ever heard of.
He's like some kind of cross between Christopher Walken and a lobotomized, poo-throwing monkey. Only in a tux. And not dancing through a hotel lobby. I experienced a rare sensation I have, over the years, referred to as Carnation Instant Hate. Where instinctive, automatic powdered hatred blends with the milk of my human kindness to form a rich, creamy shake of bile that lasts me ALL DAY LONG.
All I knew was that his name was Billy. And he was hosting the preshow. When BILLY Crystal is HOSTING the Oscars, finding out who this little wormfucker is via the magic of Google is not easy. But I found him. Billy Bush.
I had never seen Billy Bush before. He is apparently the east coast correspondent for Access Hollywood, which I would have assumed was, on the showbiz totem pole, a notch or two below Tom Cruise's fluffer. But there he was. In an interview, he describes his work thusly: "This show is all about moments. It's about being off the script, and connecting."
This translates to staring down Angelina Jolie's cleavage and asking her if she's happy to be there.
I thought part of the promise of the Internet was that, once we could all get up-to-the-minute news in plain text on whatever magical device was hooked to this web, that people like this would be turning tricks for ramen money, as a just world demands. But no. They still have microphones, they're still capable of, as a reflex motion, remembering which hand the microphone is in and extending the corresponding arm, and these are the only qualifications they need.
You could actually see the contempt dripping off the celebrities he was talking to. It was kind of a wavy video effect around the edges of the screen, like a Predator was stalking the Oscars. But Billy Bush did not have time to bleed. I strongly suggest that ABC remember this next year, and adjust their schedule accordingly if you'd like me to tune in. Let the carpet start white, and END RED.
Oh, dear. See, sometimes, I do my research while I write these, and sometimes, midstream, I come across a factoid that changes everything. He's Billy Bush. That last name is not, as it turns out, a coincidence. He's cousin to Dubya. It's like there isn't a worthwhile gene in the entire bloodline. It's like there's a conspiracy. Not a conspiracy to get incompetent members of the Bush family high-profile jobs as interviewers, governors, oil executives, and presidents. That's explainable without any kind of conspiracy. No, this is a conspiracy to give me an embolism.
There are secret connections in the world, threads that irrevocably bind together all the disparate things that piss me off. And if the creationists are to be believed, a web of idiocy this complex could not have arisen by chance. There MUST be a unifying force behind this!
Oh, wait. Creationists are morons. I guess there's just a lot of DUMB out there to be found.
By the way, Billy Crystal as Aragorn looks like a Renfest Ron Jeremy. STOP SINGING, YOU UNFUNNY FUCKWAD.