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ASK DR. WRATH Dr. Wrath Hits the Oscars |
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| IN THE GRAND TRADITION OF Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, the Man Show Boy, and that little bastard from Punk’d, we sent our own mean-spirited, foul-mouthed reporter—award-deserving Manifest advice columnist Dr. Wrath—to the Oscars this past Sunday with one mission and one mission only: to fuck shit up. Yet, unlike other red carpet correspondents, Dr. Wrath was not there to ask any questions, but to do what he does best: give advice. Take it away, Yamatanka…. [A note to our international readers: we apologize for the following article’s bias towards American pop culture. If you would like to help us broaden the global appeal of TM, please contact us at editors@the-manifest.org.] Peter Jackson, Best Director (Lord of the Rings: Return of the King)  Dr. Wrath: Peter, buddy, we have to talk about your gross body. Peter Jackson: Excuse me? Your gross realm body—why don’t you fucking take care of yourself? I mean, look at this: food in your beard [Wrath pulls the remnant of what looks like a Ritz cracker from Jackson’s beard], unwashed hair, wrinkled clothes. Don’t you realize you’re an international cinema star? Don’t you want to represent New Zealand the best you can? Don’t you think the spokesperson for J.R.R. Tolkien’s breathtaking imagination should know not to walk down Rodeo Drive with toilet paper stuck to his loafers? I hardly see how this is relevant. Oh, but it IS relevant, especially when you start pounding the promo circuit for your next film, a seven-movie biopic on the life of the great non-dual mystic, Nagarjuna. What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t told anyone what my next movie will be. But I’m telling you: it will be a seven-movie biopic on the life of the great non-dual mystic, Nagarjuna. Get cracking. And lose some fucking weight: you look like you’re about to audition for Whale Rider 2. Sean Penn, Best Actor (Mystic River)  Hey there Spicoli. Dr. Wrath, nice to meet you at last! Listen, although I was a bit disappointed that Mystic River had very little to do with spiritual practice or the life and times of St. Theresa de Avila, that’s not my real issue with you: it’s your politics. Don’t get me wrong, we all cheered up here in the Pure Land when you said that “Actors know there were no WMDs in Iraq” during your acceptance speech, yet you have still yet to make it up to the status of genuine world-centric activist. You need to start protesting ALL injustices, not just those of the United States. The U.S. is NOT the only source of suffering in the world. Well of course it isn’t, but those Bushies are pushing us back into some blue-meme mythological imperial nightmare. True indeed, and so what are you doing about it? [Penn grins and walks away.] Renée Zellweger, Best Supporting Actress (Cold Mountain)  You realize, of course, you all of your success to a single scene from Jerry McGuire. Yeah, I know, the “you complete me” scene. Look Professor Wrath or whatever your name is, I have a long night of spitting up vomit in Jack White’s rented Humvee, so if you don’t mind— No, I do mind. You owe everything to that scene, and now it’s time to repay that debt. It is your job to COMPLETE the entire world. Wherever there is suffering, wherever there is sickness and shadow, there you will be providing healing and wholeness, bee-stung lips and all. Fuck you man, I ain’t no Mother Theresa. Did you see me in Me, Myself, and Irene? That dildo ruined any chances I have of going to heaven. Heaven, schmeaven, you owe the world for your success. Wherever a one-armed baby cries, wherever an alcoholic father beats his mother-in-law, wherever a Fortune 500 company dumps mercury in a public bath, I want you to see in that moment the weeping, pleading face of Tom Cruise, bended on one knee seeking your unwavering love. Well, I’ll think about it. [waves goodbye] Call my agent. Bill Murray, Best Actor nominee (Lost in Translation)  Hey there you miserable wretched piece of shit failure. I hope you believe in reincarnation, because you’ll never get a shot at the Oscars again in this lifetime. Gee, thanks ass-hole. But don’t you think it’s strangely appropriate that you play a loser in the movie and are a loser in real life? I thought you were an advice columnist, not a dickhead. I am, and here’s my advice: quit acting and take up aikido. Learn to redirect the chi energy of anyone who attacks you, go to the White House, and non-whup some ass. Then at least a movie ABOUT you and your crazy 180-degree switch to the life of a non-violent political revolutionary will be Oscar-winning material. Oh, I get it, this is a Comedy Central thing right? Haha, joke’s on ol’ Bill. Tell Jimmy Kimmel I want my penis pump back. Scarlett Johansson, actress (Lost in Translation)  Daaammmnnnnnn girl [looks her up and down], you are FINE! Ordinarily I am not attracted to the fleshy form of you temporary mortals, but you almost make a Deity of Wrath want to give up his, er, wrathful ways, get a hairpiece, buy a house in the Hamptons, and live out the rest of his pathetic days staring at the delicate curve of your buttocks as they do Ta-Bo every morning. Um, thanks, I guess. Are those human skulls around your neck? Never mind that. Listen, even if we don’t end up together, I think I should inform you that your true path has nothing to do with acting. It doesn’t? But I like acting. Yeah yeah and we all like you for it, listen: the real use of those pretty little lips is to kiss the wounds of lepers. [Aghast] Are you fucking serious? Quite serious. It is only when you go transpersonal – as expressed in its extreme feminine form (the love that embraces everything) – that you will find the deeper meaning and purpose your character so desperately strived for in those two fruitless hours on screen with Bill Murray. But that was just my character, I myself sorta know what I want to do with my li— No you don’t. Now get on your knees and kiss some festering skin grafts and pressure ulcers. Imagine how inspiring it would be to see one of the most beautiful women in the world scrubbing the callouses of maquiladoras with pancreatic cancer! Did you see that scene in The Passion of the Christ when Mary kissed her son’s bloody feet and got blood all over her teeth? That’s you. Mel Gibson, Conservative Filmmaker  You know what Gibson, I don’t have any advice for you – you’re a lost cause. I do have a question though, and it has to do with the transubstantiation of the blood of Christ. Get away from me you Buddhist heathen. I worship Christ and Christ alone. [Sighs and tries to push past Wrath] Just hear me out. Christ’s blood is represented in the Catholic mass by a glass of wine, correct? Well, technically, it IS the blood— Ok, whatever. Now then, if his blood is wine, and your movie is a non-stop two-hour bloodbath, wouldn’t it make sense that The Passion is really a call for unrestrained alcoholism? Couldn’t we say that Christ’s death was really a dirtier, Jewish version of a Greek bacchanalia, minus the hoofed feet and the lutes? You are a sick, sick deity. It makes sense to me, and it gives a sense of what the Sufi poet Hafiz was talking about in all of those poems where he bespoke of “The Wine of the Beloved.” Christ’s blood/wine is a metaphor for holy intoxication. Now if only you idiot humans could convince your Regal Cinemas to serve merlot. |
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| Burning alive with a question of cosmic curiosity? Ask DrWrath@the-manifest.org. All topics welcome, but don’t expect a “nice” answer. He is a deity of wrath, after all. |
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