I hear what you guys are saying about the Oscars, and how they're a celebration of life, and the show must go on, blah-blah-blah, so-on-and-so-forth. It all makes a degree of sense, but to me it still feels like Nero fiddling while Rome burns. Or in this case, wearing fancy clothes while LA burns.

Writers: yes, you are still a "real" writer if you
- have never published anything
- have no readers
- didn't write anything this month
- didn't write anything this year
- can't articulate words anymore
- can only float and mournfully wail
- were murdered ten years ago on this very spot

if i don't have sex with an elf I'll die