A Perfect Guide to the 92nd Academy Awards (plus 15 Oscar FACTS you DON’T know, and never would have because YOU DON’T ASK QUESTIONS IN LIFE)

Number 8 will leave you going ‘WOW’ and number 2 will leave you alone for once….

So the Academy Awards are this today, so we wrote this listical ahead of time and posted it now.

The full list of winners is below, but first here are 15 hidden facts about the Academy Awards.

The Academy Awards often introduces itself at parties as simply The Oscars. Have you ever wondered why? Margaret Herrick sure hasn’t.

That’s because the Academy librarian and spinster was said to have coined the moniker herself, remarking ‘this little guy looks like my Uncle Oscar’.

But who was her Uncle Oscar? Why none other than Oscar Meyer-Wiener, famous for his Oscar Meyer-Wiener wieners, and for being a foot tall and made of gold.

While the term ‘Oscar’ is in common use now, people of your grandparents era (Generation Turbo) might bristle at the idea of using an award’s first name at a black tie event. They’re not alone, as much as they complain nobody visits. It’s still good manners to address the British Academy Film and Television Award as ‘your grace’ and curtly nod your head before picking one up, and legend tells us the long-gone Cable ACE Awards demanded ritual sacrifice from its disciples.

Few could have guessed Richard Dreyfuss would refuse his 1978 award for ‘Wet Slapp: Private Eye’.

Fewer could have guessed he’d send chairperson for Native Americans in Film Sacheen Whitecloud-Cohen in his place to protest the lack of Native Americans Persons in Film in chairs.

But fewer still could have guessed it was Dreyfuss in red-face the whole time, revealing himself to be truly a self described actor’s actor’s genius and not only accepting the award but demanding a second.
Few could have predicted, but only one did: Wet Slapp, Private Eye.

That’s right, idiots.
Before the rise of mankind, these chicken of the trash simply loved the warm safety of the plush purple corduroy fabric, as well as the menial fee provided by the Academy to avoid empty spots while celebs did number ones and twos and threes (cocaine) in the lavish bathrooms.

If you listen carefully, you can hear the piercing shrieks of the animals physically trying to get out from underneath you.

Instead, The Oscars take place between February and April. This is because The Oscars are whats called a movable feast, very similar to Easter which falls at a similar time.

Western churches (like the Roman Catholic Church) use the Gregorian calendar, while Eastern churches (like the Eastern Orthodox Church) use the Julian calendar. Because of this, the date of Easter celebrations is different for these two types of churches even though the way they calculate the date is similar. In 2015 Easter was celebrated on April 5 for both the Gregorian calendar and Julian calendar.

To prevent audiences turning off their televisions in sheer disgust, a Technical Oscar can now also only be won by the very attractive. This years nominees include Makeup and Hairstyling (they make an effort), Craft Service (but limited to some condescending health company) and a shredded cinematographer who is also your partner’s ex lover.

You know the one. Your partner’s family talk about them every Easter.

The Academy is funded entirely on the charitable donations of a film loving public, everyday people such as yourselves. Unfortunately, those everyday people think they’re actually contributing to a children's hospital. Since all our mail is addressed to the St Thomas of Mercy Pledge Drive, we’re trying to keep up appearances.

You didn’t know that? Read a book! Read a very specific book. Then don’t read most other books.

We all know the statuettes are made of copper and straw, but what about those big ones in the background? According to Hollywood resident Bin-Scent Vice, these are 1930's golems: bewitched igneous wardens sworn to protect the sanctity of the red carpet ‘Hot or Not’ segment through fear and violence.

All we can say is: Imma getting outta here!

Except for 2005, and briefly in 2012.

To keep the invitee’s alert during the show, a soundscape of bird calls, mechanical drills, and soft humming of ugly truths is played into the auditorium.

Who exactly does the playing we may never know, but I hope it’s not a knife murderer.

This years Oscar’s were not exactly the 92th as claimed. If you want to get specific they are the 92d Oscars to be hosted in America.

The Academy Awards are like Eurovision: the winning country gets to host. Since America cleans up every year, they host.

Guessing the winners is part of the Oscar Fun. Who has the firmest hands, the biggest walk, the largest acting ability?

But that fun was kicked by the mule of happenstance in 1988’s telecast, when a bedraggled stranger from the future arrived in a blood-stained time machine to quickly read the results off his phone, violating the rules of both the academy, as well as time and space.

Before departing to the sounds of boo’s (and a quietly pleased Olympia Dukakis), he was reported to have spotted Ernest Borgnine at the buffet and remarked “I thought you were dead by now”.

Mr Borgnine sadly died later that very night, stabbed to death by the same time traveler.

That is how many people were nominated for Best Supporting Actor and Best Supporting Actress combined in 1940.

That is because for many years it was considered impolite to single any one person out as support: if the film was good, we all did good. So everyone that appears on screen had to be nominated, and since this was the year of Cleoparty Animal (1940) and The Cast of 1000 Extras Milling About (1940), the numbers soon added up.

You would think it would be deeply embarrassing to wear the same dress as another. So the year 1962 must have been mortified, when all invitees of the Awards coincidentally arrived with the same plus-one .

That plus-one? Jesus. The good news is, J.C has room on his dance card for everyone.

Alright, this one’s a stretch.

Nostradamus was deceased far before The Oscars came about, but they were one of his most vivid visions of the future, and he wrote all about it on a scroll beside his bed. Who would have thought, only thirty years later his prediction would come true.

Nostradamus himself never actually cared for the vision, remarking ‘it was not one of my better ones’, much preferring (according to historians) the snake choking on the ash of a lemon tree.

And no, it’s not suspected costume designer and alleged vampire Darius Fleshfeaster.

That honor goes to semi-acclaimed actress Madame St Van St D’Marcasite, a legend who somehow has outlasted both her contemporaries and her venereal diseases.

She is still working today from the waist up, and in the promotion of her upcoming memoir she very generously agreed to reflect on how the Academy Awards has changed over time.

Oh the Oscars, I have many fond memories, and a great many more we will describe simply as memories. It’s hard to pick which recollection to exaggerate for a story.

They called it the Night of Nights, but really it’s two and a half weeks of frivolity so severe and lacking in rest it reaches the point they need to swap out your spent organs with that of a rhesus monkey.

My first entree into the Oscars was as a coat-check girl: pick enough pockets and you’ll find an invitation. Despite my many appearances at the ceremony on the arm or face of a nominee, only two of my many many many many many many films ever made the cut. One was Jaws (1975), where I refused to stop sun bathing in the background. The other was one the finest pieces of cinema ever created. Citizen Kanee (1958), a film that to this day remains the only Citizen Kanee with two e’s. Technically it was never nominated, even more technically it was banned, but the director of the academy himself Albert Univim reluctantly agreed to screen it once in return for his kid.

When it comes to press junkets, everyone’s a critic. I’m nervous every time the lights go down at a premiere, because once in the dark I got spooked by a possum.

The Chicago Tribute called Kanee ‘triumphant’, while the New York Post called the Chicago Tribute ‘mistaken’ and ‘possibly fake’. Famed critic Eriheart Tidepale compared it to Taxi Driver unfavorably, which was apt given it was shot and edited in a single cab ride. Indeed Tidepale once called this film, on his deathbed, ‘donkey shit‘. He also remains our prime suspect in the firebombing attempt on the studio. To be fair, Tidepale was never going to a fan as a deep believer in both christian family values and well made movies. He was also the father of two children we in the film unprovoked called ‘ugly failures’. I don’t make films for critics: I can honestly say I don’t make films for anyone.

When you sick of Hollywood, you’re sick of life and likely botox poisoning. Every day is different in the vibrant shining burning trash fire of a city.

When I came to the big city (well, big for me: I’m sure Godzilla disagree’s), I had nothing but the clothes on my back and very little on my front. It was hand to mouth for a while, but I soon made it to lips to mouth.

They say if you can make it in Los Angeles, the city of wet dreams, the big apple pie just waiting to be fucked, you can make it anywhere. I don’t know if that’s true: a lot of places did not like me at all. Iowa made me get back on the plane, or at least their vice squad did. They say the sun never stops shining in LA, which I guess explains all the blind eyes the cops turn.

Nobody steps of the inter-city bus with two suitcases under your arms and balled up knickers in your pocket because the bus driver doesn’t accept IOU’s, and then walks right into a blockbuster starring role. No, we all have to pay our dues, and get gunned down in a bottomless bikini on the set of Bullets over Babeland (1929). But fret not, dear reader, in time I would be in that remake Bulletz over Boob City (1987), as the star, still bottomless, still gunned down, but with sad music this time.

Now if you excuse me, I need to fill my purse with the buffet, and my pantyhose with cutlery.

Madame St Van St D’Marcasite’s memoir My Parts on Film is available wherever bad books are discarded.

Nor do I. But here are the nominees!

Best Supporting Actor

Anthony Hopkins: Too Many Popes

Al Pacino: The Irish Pope

Joe Pesci: Home Alone Too Many Popes: Blessed in New York

Brad Pitt: Once Upon a Time in the Vatican, there was a Pauper who looked just like the Pope

Tom Hanks: Big (but if the kid was real catholic)

Best Actress

Cynthia Erivo: Harriet

Renée Zellweger: Judy

Saoirse Ronan: Beth. No, wait it’s Jo. I get them mixed up.

Scarlett Johansson: Bride

Charlize Theron: Explodo

Best Original Screenplay

Dr Killalottafolka

Shut Yo Mouth

Up Sh*t Creek Without a Calvin: The Calvin Canoe story

1917 Two: 1918

Nasty A$$ Ninja

Best Actor

Joaquin Phoenix: Joker

Antonio Banderas: Ra’s al Ghul

Leonardo DiCaprio: Gentleman Ghost

Adam Driver: Red Hood

Jonathan Pryce: Mad Hatter

Best Make-Up

Joe Pesci and Movies. I thought they were done!

Best Original Song

It’s a Toy Toy Life. Toy Story 4

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4…Oops. Rocketman

Eureka. Breakthrough

Olaf’s Oompa Boompa Song: Frozen II

Theme from James Bond. Harriet