Words on Wednesday

You just can’t shake it off … when something triggers you, you just can’t let it go.

You replay it in your head. If you see it at school, work, home, TV it sticks with you if it’s especially surprising.

Seeing someone physically attacked and humiliated on live TV and then have multiple people make excuses for them burned me out.

Everyone has seen what happened at the Oscar’s. Everyone heard a bad joke, where half the crowd laughed and one person very obviously did not. So that started a chain reaction, apparently, which ended up ruining the Best Documentary Award presentation and perhaps drowned out the rest of the show.

A lot of people talked about situations having layers, and not sure what exactly went on, and equating alopecia to cancer treatments, or about comedians not being aware of everyone’s medical conditions, or about being the butt of jokes, about chivalry, about not sure what exactly happened even though hundreds of people saw exactly what happened.

Somebody hit someone else.

They weren’t being threatened. It wasn’t in self-defense, or for protection. Someone had something ELSE going on and they snapped and hit someone.

I found it enraging that someone laughed at a joke, then realized later that they shouldn’t have laughed, then decided to attack someone on stage. Then they sauntered back to their chair as if nothing happened.

And that’s the part … the part right there.

The one that triggered me.

The entitled part.

The swagger after hitting someone and knowing nothing would happen. It would still be your night.

That was enraging. So many people have that saunter. People feeling entitled enough to think they have a right to to do something outrageous and nothing will happen to them.

And guess what?

Nothing did.

In this case they weren’t escorted out of the room. They weren’t reprimanded.

In fact they won an award and were allowed to speak. Allowed to leave and party all night, no remorse. Smiling and dancing away … until the morning when damage control needed to be done and a written apology was sent out like an unvitation.

I didn’t even know these people. But the whole scenario bothered me so much. Nothing happened to them. There were no consequences and I think that’s the biggest burn. That happens on the screen and in real life. Some people don’t have consequences.

The no consequences. There was no immediate accountability. And since the event passed there probably won’t be, I mean what could the consequences actually be… sorry you can’t come next time?

That’s it?

Whether it’s NFL stars being excused from domestic violence, or police charges because they can catch a ball, to the privileged cheating the college admissions system, to the hypocrisy of politicians, to a greedy authoritarian ruler that bombs another country and kills innocent people because he wants to, to athletes doping up and still competing at the highest level, to people stealing catalytic converters and leaving you with the bill, to an actor hitting a comedian on live TV …

Accountability appears to be lacking on multiple levels in all aspects of life and this most recent public show of cowardice had me wishing for a future much better than that.

People in positions of influence or power constantly evading consequences that everyone else must own up to hits that pit of my stomach. The unbalanced scales still continue no matter how much progress we think we’ve made. It’s really frustrating and sad to see reminders of these when we’re all trying to find hope in our futures.

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Buen Camino my friends …

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Party of Two: My Dad, The Oscars, Nachos and Me.

Different moments, different occasions remind me of my Dad. Random times. When most people are checking out what the stars are wearing down the Red Carpet and wondering why so many breasts are making appearances, I would always check the clock, because I knew my Dad was on his way home, ready for our Oscar Party.

Most people who I know don’t really make a big deal of Oscar Night. I mean they may or may not watch it. It’s not a DVR kind of event for them. But for me and my Dad…we had “the Dreamer’s Disease.” Well I had it and my Dad got it by association. I would tell him … “the day I become an awesome writer and get nominated for award like the Oscars or Emmys you will be date, Dad.” And when most people would laugh or just say get your head out of the clouds, his response was … “well I guess I’ll have to rent a tuxedo.”

The Oscars

It was a night where we hoped our favorite picks got selected. We also looked for the person with the most genuine enthusiasm as they received the golden statue, as well as the best speech. So far my Dad’s top pick was Cuba Gooding Jr. for Jerry Maguire. He smiled to see someone so happy. That’s probably what I would look like if I won. No he said…that’s probably what we would look like if you won.

Aside from looking for the most genuine, we’d also have a pool and side bets. My Dad would always choose Clint Eastwood, even when he wasn’t nominated he’d say Clint Eastwood would have won that one. Sometimes he’d go with Jack Nicholson. Sometimes he’d get it right, other times well …

But he’d get over it with food. Even though our Oscar party wasn’t ice sculptures and caviar, it had good eats, ambiance, and Guat humor. Carne asada, rice, beans, enchiladas, and nachos. I know it sounds like Super Bowl food, but for a writer and a dreamer the Oscars is the Super Bowl. With all the savory tasties you would think we had like ten people there, but no. It was just me and Dad. My mom would hang out for a little bit, but then go upstairs and crash, or watch something else. Premios Nuestros or Cristina, something like that. So for the most part it was just me and Dad, sometimes my cousin…the moocher.

But the best part was hanging out. Sitting on our worn-out couch stuffed with food, we’d sip our after-you-pig-out drinks: ginger-ale for me, coffee for my Dad. We hung out like buddies surrounded by decorations from the 99-cent store or Pic-and-Save, which I used to make it look more festive.

So today as I poured the cheese on my Tostitos, and covered them with chicken, pinto beans, tomatoes, avocados, cilantro, jalapenos, and sour cream I thought about my Dad, and how he’d probably enjoy the fact that Billy Crystal was hosting it again. I looked at this towering dish of awesomeness oozing with monster calories, and I missed my Dad, wished he hadn’t passed away.

I shook my head … too bad Clint Eastwood wasn’t up for it this year, Dad would’ve liked that.