It's Hard Watching The Oscars If You're Not a PIMP

Forget the whole telecast. The shining moment for Hollywood, the whole movie-making establishment, the U.S. and really, the world at large, was the booty-shaking, gold-teeth-flashing, prostitute-wailing number of That Crazy Pimp Song from Hustle & Flow. The nail in the coffin (0h - so sorry) I mean the crowning moment was when Mafia 69, or whatever they're called, came on stage in their best butt-revealing jeans and $8,000 sneakers to accept the Oscars, know what I'm saying? No doubt.

If you can't tell from my sarcastic little sound bite above, I am pretty disgusted that The Oscars have sold out in this way. Maybe 'Ludacris' of the massive Harry Winston earrings thinks this legitamizes hip-hop as an art form, but I call it sheer bad taste. Call me old fashioned, but leave your hoes, bitches and velour at home if you're going to be visitin' H-town. Get out your best pimping tuxedo, and roll like a penguin.

And if you still don't know how to dress and accessorize properly, stay in your hood and drink at the bar with the crying Brokeback cowboys.