Russ Kent: Just say thank you, and return to your seat


As I age, the list of things I have no desire to do gets longer.

I won’t go to Cedar Point.

I won’t eat raisins.

I won’t drink dark beer.

I won’t coats, hats, gloves and boots if I don’t want to.

And I won’t pay to watch big sporting events.

The older I get, the less I enjoy crowds and crowded stadiums. I’ve been spoiled by being a part of the media. Now, when I want to go to Muirfield Village and Firestone Country Club or Ohio State and Cleveland to watch the Browns, Cavs and Indians, I want to be pampered. I want to eat at the buffet and have the chef carve me a slab of medium rare prime rib. I want 10 or 12 salads to choose from. I want coolers of free water and soft drinks and beer. I want my interview subjects, game notes and statistics delivered to me in the interview room, or better yet, to my seat, in a timely fashion.

If not, I’d just as soon stay home.

It’s good to be catered to, even though it spoiled me for real life.

It’s easy to forget what regular people go through on a daily basis.

Which leads me to another thing I refuse to do.

I don’t do awards shows.

I hate them, because they’re no longer filled with appreciative actors and actresses, they’ve been overrun by pompous egotistical, self-important gas bags.

Which I hate.

The Golden Globes were Sunday. I didn’t watch. I didn’t even know they were on TV until Monday morning when Donald Trump tweeted something about Meryl Streep and drew the ire of liberals across the nation. But that was after Streep used her time on the stage to hammer the president-elect, which irritated just as many conservatives in the 50 states.

Awards show don’t irritate me. It’s the gas bag actors and actresses that make me angry. They pontificate on everything but the award they won. No longer are actors and actresses humbled by their success, they instead spend their time putting down one segment of society or the other.

And they’re not just gas bags, they are elitist gas bags, with a podium.

I have neither the time nor inclination to listen to actors and actresses tell me how I should think about some cause they support.

I would rather they said “thank you” and go on their way.

I love a good movie. I love good actors and actresses. I will watch them over and over again.

But seeing a movie should be like eating a good meal. You pay for it. You devour it. You go home.

A good meal that stays with you for too long can turn into a uncomfortable problem.

Movies, and movie stars should be that way. Buy your movie ticket. Watch. Enjoy. And go home.

But many actors and actresses leave a nasty aftertaste.

The ability of an actor or actress to make a role their own, to bring their character to life, to make me forget about my own life for a while is something to marvel.

But then the movie ends and my life goes on … or it used to.

Pretentious, self-important gas bags are ruining my cinematic experiences.

I like my actors in movies, or on TV, or on a talk show.

I don’t need, nor do I want to hear them preach at me during an awards show.

Accept your award, shut up and go home.

The Golden Globes are a precursor to the Academy Awards, both in the number of viewers and the pretentiousness of the winners.

There are other award shows, and I won’t watch them, either.

They’ve always been boring. Now they have turned into political rallies.

If there was an Academy Award for the most pretentious award show, the Academy Award would go to … Yep, you guessed it. Oscar would be handing an Oscar to Oscar, which is a perfect microcosm of all of Hollywood. It’s too full of itself to know what the real world is like.

I remember the good old days. Winners would thank their spouses and co-stars and directors and sound technicians and make-up artists and then be rushed off the stage.

But then someone introduced politics to the awards show circuit.

Marlon Brando wasn’t the first, but he’s the one who did it best … or worst.

In a way, I wish more actors would follow Brando’s example … and just not show up.

My largest pet peeve — besides people who study a McDonald’s drive-thru menu like they’ve not seen it before — is people who think they are more important than they are.

You know, people who think their opinions matter.

I speak from experience.

I have learned how little opinions matter. Opinions are like, well, excuses. And everyone has one.

I share my opinions weekly on the pages of the Galion Inquirer, on galioninquirer.com, on our Facebook page … and anywhere else I think to share it.

The responses I get — pro or con — for one of my columns, for sharing my opinions, I can usually count on one hand.

Typically I write about myself, my life, my love of cooking, my pets.

Sometimes I dive into the murky world of politics. I give an opinion and move on. I’m not pretentious enough to think my opinion is more important than the opinion of others.

If you don’t agree with me, that’s OK. I won’t call you a loser. I won’t tell the rest of the word that you are too ignorant to live, let alone have the right to vote.

We can disagree. And that’s OK.

Or it used to be.

There have always been winners and losers in elections.

Not anymore.

There are those who stole the election and those who had the election stolen from them.

Half of America is filled with the idiots who voted for Trump. The other half is filled with imbeciles who voted for Hillary.

And atresses and actors have to pile on the hatred.

They have a platform that can reach millions, which doesn’t make their opinion better than mine. It only makes it louder.

And it makes them gas bags.

Just stop it.

Get on stage. Thank those who helped you win the award, tell a joke, or share a heart-warming anecdote about a loved one … and then disappear until your next release.

Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn … about your political views.

I just want you to act and then disappear.

I don’t care if you believe half of America is ignorant.

I don’t even care if you’re the greatest and most generous Trump supporter of all time.

I don’t care if you loathe Barack and Company.

I don’t care if the Trumps make you want to vomit.

Make your movie, go on vacation, get married … and divorced … and married … and divorced again, adopt a baby … and repeat.

I have no interest in your political views.

Never have. Never will.

It’s an opinion. And everybody has one.

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Russ Kent

Inquirer editor

 

Russ Kent is editor of the Galion Inquirer. Email him at rkent@civitasmedia.com with story ideas or comments.