Cassy-Lee Ostlund and Mitch Wolfe in a Very Hot Poetry Slam-Hot Damn

Hotline Onion Ring

Cassy: Mitch, ever since I left the country, I've been staying home and going out less- glasses of juice and my hair’s a mess… Hanging out with cats I’ve never seen before… But yeah, I will call you on your cell phone – Late night when I need some Denny’s.

Mitch: Oh Cassy, I’ll definitely call you on my cell phone. Late night, when you are alone. Your hair’s a mess. Who cares? You make me quiver. Text your address, cause with Denny’s, I do deliver.

Cassy: Mitch, these days all I do is wonder if you’re bringing over Denny’s for someone else, wonder if you’re rolling up with grandslams for someone else, bringing things I order, getting free birthday pancakes with someone else. Gonna make your hotline bling. I need some onion rings, bring me some onion rings… That’s right I want “The D”. Some Dunkin’ Doughnuts please…

Mitch: Cassy, I only have eyes for thee, there is no place that I’d rather be, than Dunkin my donut under your tree. I’m not slammin’, rammin’ or Grandslammin’. I’m no fool. Only you can make my hotline bling, as I savor your onion ring.

Cassy: I’ma make your hotline bling, but you can’t have my onion ring. I might let you double dip. But that’s next-level IHop shit… Babe, I’m a lady, no need to get crazy, go easy on the gravy, babe go easy, I like my bacon greasy. Start with Moons Over My Hammy, but later on, Grandslam me, Those Cheddar Bacon Tots… Don’t treat me like a THOT. You ain’t like all those other guys, eating everyone’s cheese smothered fries. And I ain’t like all of those other chicks, I want a side of those chicken strips. Don’t need no diamond ring, take me to Crispy Kreme.

Mitch: I ain’t like those other sheets, I like my steak and frites, and you aint like those other dolls, you’re more Holts, than Walmart malls. So I can’t have your onion ring, I bet I can make you sing. Let me double dip you, and cherry top and nut you. I may not be hip and greasy, but I’ll love you, over easy. Put your Moons over My Hammy, and don’t forget to Grandslam me. Oh, I’ll take you to Crispy Kreme, we’ll shoot up sucrose like a dream. Though you can’t eat it any more, you’ll still beg me for S’more.

Mitch Wolfe Disses on CAFA 2016 – The Hits and the Misses

CAFA (Canadian Arts and Fashion Awards) put on its gala awards night at the Royal York last Friday and many of Toronto’s glitterati were present in all their finest and latest designer gowns and threads.

In the OMG, drop dead, jaw-dropping category, the competition was fierce between my two friends Jenna Bitove in a wild blue bird of prey Stephen Caras gown, with an outrageous train that needed its own limo, vs American TV personality Tricia Mitchell, in a sheer, lacy, pinkish, low cut, leaving-nothing-to-the-imagination mermaid gown. Both took my breath away, but I am going with the statuesque Tricia, who kindly accompanied me on the red carpet.

CAFA 70 jenna

cafa 1 tricia+mlw

In my next category, the Battle of the Glam Socialites, this was a very close contest between Sylvia Mantella and Suzanne Rogers, both very glamorous and classy in white. But Sylvia won the judges over with her cleavage- baring milky white ensemble, with a slit up the front. I thought Suzanne looked wonderful as well, but I thought she could have doffed her Rosedale reserve and showed a little more originality, daring. And skin. Suzy looked to “Mother of the Bride-ish”, for my taste.

In my third category, suburban MILFS, (Mothers I’d Love to Fashionista), the judges awarded a tie to two absolutely gorgeous women, for their style and natural beauty. In the photo below we have the lovely Julie Armstrong (left), wearing a classic Nicole Miller gown, with her signature scalloped lacy V-neck. If you have it, flaunt it. Then the always charming Claire Salisbury (right), in a black Badgeley Mischka strapless gown, exposing the most beautiful soft shoulders at the gala. Personally, I loved the golden halo thing. Her radiant smile, soft hazel eyes and Sephora lips certainly won over this judge.

cafa 4

Both women- clearly great PR for their Bella boutique “By Tocca”, in Oakville.

Sadly, the judges gave a resounding thumbs down to one of our very own – Kim Cattrall, wearing a black pant suit that Sex and the City Samantha would never have been got dead in. What was she thinking? Hey, the “6” aint New York, but come on, girl, we ain’t Cleveland neither. Hey, Kim, next time bring your “A” game, babe. The outfit was fine, if you were dressing to be a jockey in the Kentucky Derby! Hey Kim, what are you wearing, Hillary Clinton?

Lastly, a shout out to local designers:  The boys at Greta Constantine, you rock, fellas!

Kudos on your 2016 CAFA designer award. Shown here with fashion maven, Lisa Tant.

Molly Parker: Canada’s Rare and Captivating Bird

For the past few weeks I have been holed up in a beautiful (and warm) cottage in the beach town of Innisfil, within a chip and putt of the slowly melting sea.

A windswept oasis. Literally far from the madding crowd of downtown Toronto.

This weekend I discovered a small gem of a Canadian film. Scrolling through the channels in my cottage hideaway, the words Rare Birds came across the screen. Filmed in 2001, it is a relatively unknown Canadian film set in Newfoundland, and stars two of my favourite and quirky actors:  Molly Parker and William Hurt.

William Hurt, a little paunchy, his hair thinning, is several years from his role as the charismatic teacher of the deaf (and lover of his fellow deaf employee portrayed by Marlee Matlin) in Children of a Lesser God (1986). Hurt is also light years from the good-looking but dim southern lawyer who attracted the attention of the very sexy and nubile femme fatale Kathleen Turner in the classic, steamy, and heavily erotic Florida noir thriller Body Heat (1981). But this Hurt dude can still act! Even in a relatively low-budget Canadian flick with a pseudo Newfie accent.

Set along the rocky shores of a small Newfoundland town, Hurt is the owner/chef of a failing restaurant, literally in the middle of nowhere, called The Auk. The premise is that Hurt is apparently a brilliant and talented chef who, for some reason, fled to the rocky shores of Newfoundland to own and operate his own high-end bistro. But the place seems to be invisible to customers, and most locals believe the place has been closed for months.

Hurt is separated from his wife (played by Sheila McCarthy), who apparently prefers the high-powered life of Washington to watching her husband spend his days alone and pitifully drinking wine in his empty bistro.

Then, one night at a friend’s house, Hurt meets the alluring and red-headed Molly Parker. She is an architecture student, temporarily staying with her family until her return to the big city of Montreal.

Full disclosure: I love Molly Parker as an actress.

I have loved her ever since she blew my socks off in Kissed (1996) when, as a mortician’s assistant, she literally mounted a freshly embalmed body of a handsome young man and had her way with him. If this guy had been alive, he would have thought he had died and gone to heaven … multiple times.

But I also love Parker because she is fearless and she takes on eccentric and totally unique roles in off-the-wall productions, such as the Jewish female rabbi Ari in Six Feet Under or the “hard as nails” widow in the very wild, lawless, and profanity-filled western Deadwood. Fans can currently find Parker as ex-Majority Whip Sharp, going toe to toe with the evil, venal American President Francis Underwood in House of Cards.

And in this Canadian independent flick, Parker does not disappoint. She dominates the screen with her naturally flowing red hair and her mischievous, devilish, and very wise and quick eyes.

In Parker’s first meeting with Hurt, across the dining room table, she initially feigns interest as Hurt, the food and wine buff, holds forth on a special wine he had brought for the occasion. Reluctantly, Parker takes a glass and expertly sniffs the liquid. Rolls it around her full mouth. She then opines on its taste, and slyly suggests its deep penetrating bouquet, ripe pinot fruit, and earthiness is evocative of a hardwood forest and the losing of one’s cherry. Wow … this girl’s got serious game! (Watch the scene for yourself.) Hurt, whose coq au fin has lain dormant for years in a loveless marriage, begins to pulsate in its rich juices.

As a result of a fake sighting of a rare bird, the small Newfoundland community is suddenly inundated by ravenous birdwatchers. They in turn begin to populate the only decent bistro for miles around. Hurt’s little failing bistro, is now awash in American Express-carrying birders who love his Michelin-starred renderings of local fresh fish. To deal with the influx of customers, Parker decides to lend a hand in the front of the room and we immediately sense that love and romance have also clearly invaded this quaint inlet.

In a beautiful and private moment, Hurt, looking in from the outside, watches Parker in the bistro, moving her hips to a bluesy beat, unaware of her lover’s gaze. Another time, after a long day on her feet, Parker favours her sore foot. Hurt motions Parker to sit in a chair across from him, then gently removes her shoe and messages the balls of her foot. Parker is clearly struck by his gentleness, kindness, and coiled sexiness. You can tell from her eyes that she wants this guy … real bad.

You know, these two just want to rip each other clothes off and devour each other among the frozen cod.

But this is Canada, damn it!  No Fifty Shades of the Maple Leaf, malheureusement!

Finally, the night before Parker must return to Montreal, she prepares a candlelight dinner for Hurt. The twosome barely finish a swig of vodka and a mouthful of caviar when Parker mounts Hurt, still seated in his chair. She confesses that she has wanted to jump his bones from day one. Hurt, now recreating his role as the horny lawyer in Body Heat, is ready to take Parker then and there. But once again, Canadian values intercede. Some stranger knocks on the door of the darkened bistro and the highly sexually charged moment passes.

But let me tell you, folks, twenty-nine at the time of filming, Parker is amazingly and wildly hot. It’s her strong and high cheek bones that get me. Her wild eyes. Her totally uninhibited, go-for-broke nature. And the explicit suggestion, that with Parker anything, and I mean anything, goes.

I urge you to catch Molly Parker in Rare Birds. She is not only a rare Canadian actress, she is truly a rare and unique actress in her own right.

molly parker 1

The Awesomely Funny Anne Marie Schleffer Returns to the Red Sandcastle with her One-Woman Comedy – “MILF Life Crisis”

I just learned that my favourite comically hot single divorced mom is returning to the Red Sandcastle Theatre in Toronto, for only four performances on April 5-8. All shows at 8pm. Call 416-845-9411 to reserve tickets before her whole run is sold out.

Since I loved this show the first time around, I hope to encourage some of my male and female friends to join me once again to see and hear Anne Marie humorously navigate the crazy post divorce dating scene while raising her kids.

The following is a review I penned of Anne Marie’s excellent show performed last time in Toronto.

Anne Marie is a one-woman phenom. As a Second City alum, for years she has written and performed in very amusing and smart and sold out seven one-woman shows throughout Canada and the United States. Her most recent show, premiering at the best little show house in Toronto, the Red Sandcastle Theatre in Leslieville, “MILF Life Crisis”, is definitely her sharpest, funniest and most moving. Her writing and acting hit real close to home.

Literally. We learn from the play’s theatre notes, that this play is based on Ann Marie’s own life, which is in the midst of divorce, co-parenting issues and crazy/sexy single mom dating.

As a result, the jokes and dead-on observations come from some very dark, funny and sad places. The best and richest, type of humour.

I was most impressed with Anne Marie’s craft as an actress. Throughout the play, Ann Marie, through mere inflections of tone and subtle mannerisms- naturally transforms from innocent loving wife and mother- to sad and sex-starved single mom- to hot, drunk, Tinder MILF, (hot mothers we love to Facebook) and then – to wiser liberated lover and ex wife.

Ann Marie also brilliantly plays her chorus of supportive friends- Nympho Kendra- who solves her single divorced status with multiple lovers and Sappho Terry- her very wise/No BS and drop dead funny lesbian friend. Anne Marie’s portrayal of Nympho Kendra was double and triple bang on.

The one hour show flies by. I was in an audience of 40 women- 5 guys. We all laughed our asses off throughout.

The Red Sandcastle is a perfect venue for Anne Marie’s show. As we all are literally up close and personal with Anne Marie as she comically, movingly and sexily unravels and exposes her life- under a symbolic disco ball, before our very eyes.

This is a show for all single and married women and the men who want to Tinder, Facebook or d/bar them.

Below is a teaser trailer video of the show.

I strongly urge you to catch this show, when it arrives in Toronto next week.

Performances: April 5-8, at Red Sandcastle Theatre, 922 Queen Street East, (Leslieville) Toronto. Call for tickets at 416-845-9411.

 

Noel Coward’s “Blithe Spirit” Brilliantly Updated as “iBlithe” at Toronto’s Red Sandcastle Theatre

“Blithe Spirit”, written by English playwright+actor,Noel Coward over a week during the summer of ’41,is a witty,dry as a martini, comedy set in an upper class English drawing room.I was fortunate to attend its opening night at the Red Sandcastle Theatre in Toronto.This play is a “must see” during its limited one week run at the Red Sandcastle.It is wonderfully performed by a very talented group of actors.

What surprised me about the play that I saw, was this particular version resonated on so many different levels.

Here is a quick thumbnail sketch of the play.

A noted English novelist, Charles, ( David Hubard) currently married to his second wife, Ruth (Maria Syrgiannis) decides for the purpose of researching his next book about a homicidal psychic, to invite to his posh English home- a psychic, Madame Arcati, ( Margaret Lamarre) to perform a séance.

In the course of the séance, the ghost of Charles’s former wife, Elvira ( Rosemary Doyle) appears, but is only visible to Charles and can only be heard by Charles. The normally conservative and uptight Charles is both exasperated by the ghostly appearance of his former sexy first wife, and then intrigued and weirdly stimulated by this sensuous apparition . Elvira has apparently come back from the beyond, because she misses him.

For brief period of time, Charles becomes “an astral bigamist”. Cue the hilarity and some weirdness as well.

The very prim and proper Ruth, who cannot see or hear Elvira, thinks Charles has gone raving mad. She also takes great offence to the harsh language Charles hurls at Elvira, as Ruth assumes she is the object of Charles’ exasperation.

But Elvira, though drop dead gorgeous ( literally and figuratively) is not the benign, sexy, earthy/ethereal presence that she initially portrays herself. She has come back from the other side, with vengeance and malice in her non-existent heart.

Events take a comically/ugly turn, and Madame Arcadi, is called upon once again by Charles to make all things right.
Or at least minimize the damage.

The genius of Coward in “Blithe Spirit” and in the more updated “iBlithe” version, is that some of his cynical ideas of life, love, sex, passion and relationships, have a universal quality. Hence Coward’s basic themes are very adaptable and reflective of the times in which this play is performed.

Whether it is 1941 or 2016. London, England or Toronto, Ontario. To Coward; love, sex and even marriage are transitory, untrustworthy and fleeting. Jealousy knows no temporal bounds. Fidelity- an illusion and delusion.

Rosemary Doyle, the writer, who adapted and updated this version to the Red Sandcastle stage, clearly dug deep into the essence of Noel Coward and captured his ideas.

In the 40s, when this play was first performed, Edith, the maid, was used to expose the inflexible class divide in England. But from the perspective of 2016, this “Upstairs/Downstairs-Downton Abbey” theme has been done to death ( so to speak) and unduly dates this excellent play.

I like the way Doyle removed the character of Edith, the maid and replaced her with Edith, the dog. Which surprisingly works even better in “iBlyth”. And clearly makes more sense, as the story unfolds.

In doing so, Doyle effectively refocused the play back to the odd and compelling three way relationship between Charles and his two wives.

As to Rosemary Doyle, as Elvira. She is simply “Mahvellous Dahling”. Doyle’s Elvira is no flighty, ethereal presence. Doyle as a blonde Elvira, plays her brilliantly as a coquettish, sexy, earthy, ribald seductress.

Elvira has come back from the dead to playfully seduce her former husband Charles and remind him of the great sex they once experienced.

Elvira materializes in the drawing room. Only visible to Charles. She is dressed in a very tight light grey skirt. With a terrific rack that leaves lots to the imagination. In her high heels and darkly painted toenails, Elvira lounges on the couch or on a nearby piano. She is constantly crossing and uncrossing her long supple limbs. Running her fingers up and down her bare legs. Or jumping on Charles’ lap and caressing him, outrageously.

To this reviewer, Doyle’s Elvira is part playful Marilyn Monroe in “Some Like it Hot” and part sensuous Elizabeth Taylor as Maggie the cat, in the film version of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, desperately trying to seduce her aloof husband Paul Newman and rekindle their passion.

David Hubard as Charles is also well cast. Typically, the role of Charles is played by a tall, handsome, slim, sophisticated and superficial bon vivant . A contemporary of his wife, Elvira.

In a more contemporary spin, Hubard’s Charles, is clearly 10-15 years Elvira’s senior. He is balding, shorter, stouter, more conservative and apparently very wealthy. Implying that Elvira’s motives for marrying Charles were more monetary than amorous.

Because of the stark difference is temperament, Elvira and Charles’s exchanges are sharper and funnier. Hubard is at his best, trying to fend off the sexual advances of Elvira, and failing miserably in the process.

Maria Syrgiannis is also excellent as the second wife, Ruth. This is probably the most difficult role in the play. Ruth as the second wife, is supposed to be the anti-Elvira. She is smart, solid, independent, tough and apparently self-confident. Her relationship with Charles is more sensible, than passionate. As Ruth observes, “Not the wildest stretch of imagination could describe it as the first fine careless rapture.” Ruth knows that the first Elvira was a gorgeous, sexy creature. And initially she feels no jealousy, until Elvira comes on the scene and disrupts her seemingly solid relationship with Charles.

Clearly, Maria’s Ruth is no shrinking violet. She is attractive and strong in her own right. She verbally jousts with Charles, mano a mano and she astutely sees through Elvira’s true motives for returning from the beyond.

I also liked the veteran thespian, Margaret Lamarre, playing the pivotal role as Madame Arcati, the psychic. Her psychic powers drive the story. And her single-minded professionalism as a psychic and her physical comedy, as she goes in and out of trances, is a marked contrast to the witty and superficial banter of the other actors.

In sum, this is a terrific ensemble performance by a very talented group of actors of a classic comedy, that has been successfully updated for a contemporary audience. Check out the Bradmans, now a gay couple in this version. Victor Bradman (Robert Keller), hysterically taking selfies on his iPhone and his partner, Dr. Bradman (Adrian Proszowski) also rock.

I strongly urge you to catch this show at the Red Sandcastle Theater, located at 922 Queen Street East, in Leslieville, Toronto. Remaining performances are all at 8pm are on March 27, 30, 31, and April 1 and 2. Call for reservations at 416-845-9411. For $20 a ticket, this is the best deal in town and a great night at the theatre.

Tina Fey’s Whisky Tango Foxtrot – A Very Under-rated, But Terrific Pro Military Film – From a Female Perspective

tina fey

Let me cut to the chase.

I thoroughly enjoyed this film. Precisely for the reasons that it has received mixed reviews from the liberal Hollywood press.

This is not an absurdist, anti-war film like “Catch 22”, based on Joseph Heller’s classic World War II novel of the same name.

Nor is this film- an anti-war satirical film as “M.A.S.H., which took place during the Korean War.

Nor is this a lame, unfunny, anti-American and anti-military, Michael Moore- produced piece of celluloid crap,

“Where to Invade Next”.

Instead Whiskey Tango Foxtrot ( Whiskey Tango) is a sympathetic comic/dramatic depiction of America’s fighting men and women and the flawed, sex/ booze/drug/ and combat-addicted male and female journalists who embedded with them in Kabul, during the Afghanistan War from 2003-2006.

This film produced by Lorne Michaels of Saturday Night Live fame and Tina Fey (SNL, 30 Rock), is loosely based upon the Afghanistan war memoirs of former Chicago Tribune reporter, now New York Times investigative reporter, Kim Barker. Barker’s book entitled, “The Taliban Shuffle: Strange Days in Afghanistan and Pakistan”.

Tina Fey, plays the Kim Barker role as Kim Baker, a lowly copy writer on a no name cable network based in New York. She seems to be in a dead end job writing about the evils of fructose. She is also locked in a passionless relationship with a depressive boyfriend, Josh Charles, who is never in town.

Fey as Kim Baker is given the chance to change her life and become a foreign war correspondent in Kabul, Afghanistan, reporting from the field for her New York cable network.

All of sudden, Liz Lemon goes to Kabul.

Like her 30 Rock character, Fey plays a nerdy, workaholic with a mediocre social life in New York.

But in crazy Kabul, as her frenemy, fellow journalist Tanya ( beautiful Margot Robbie, “Wolf of Wall Street” and playing herself as naked hot tub girl in “The Big Short”) so wittily suggests, whereas Baker may be a “6” in New York, she is a solid “9 ½” in Kabul. Due to the absence of any western women in the field.

Accordingly, “plain Jane” Baker during the film spends a good deal of time fending off the sexual advances, of Nic (Steven Peacocke), her New Zealand bodyguard, Iain (Martin Freeman), a randy Scottish photojournalist and a local Afghan public official Ali Massoud Sadiq (Alfred Molina).

Tina Fey is once again sharp, funny, feisty, tough and, independent. Her comic timing- bang on. As Baker, she is also initially clueless about the cultural complexities of an American female journalist in female-unfriendly Islamic Kabul.

Baker naively lets her hijab uncover her hair and she is called a shameless whore by a female Muslim in the Kabul street. Baker loses her American dollars to the wind. She is scammed by a young beggar. And she is nearly beaten by an angry Muslim mob, when she is caught filming a group of men, in an area where women are clearly prohibited.

Fortunately, for Fey/Baker, she is often saved and protected in Kabul by a local driver, fixer and translator Fahim, a local Muslim Afghan, played skillfully with quiet strength and intelligence by a bearded, heavyset and unrecognizable Christopher Abbott ( indecisive Charlie, Marnie’s boyfriend in the hit comic tv series, “Girls”).

Though the cultural differences are immense- by the end of the film, they bridge the cultural divide, and Baker and Fahim forge a friendship of mutual respect. Their final separation, as Baker returns to New York, for good, is very touching- literally and figuratively.

While embedded with the Marines on an exploratory mission, outside the “wire”, that is, outside America’s walled off compound, a fire fight ensues between the Americans and the Taliban forces. At great risk to herself, Baker throws herself in harm’s way to film the fire fight.

A few things happen here for Baker. She loves the adrenaline rush of combat. And Baker earns some respect from tough Marine colonel Hollanek , played wonderfully by Billy Bob Thornton. Who also warns Baker that though she may be a “4” in New York, she is a “10” here. And therefore, no distracting his men by shagging them.

As the film unfolds we watch Baker gain confidence through quick cuts of Baker, on air reporting confidently about various battles and developments in and around Kabul by day. And partying hard in the frat-house like compound for ex pat journalists, by night. Where there is nightly sex, drugs and rock and roll. Hooya!!!

What was memorable for me was how effectively the film puts the Baker character into difficult and delicate situations as a woman in a male-dominated war and a strictly male-dominated Islamic society, and how Fey/Baker adroitly navigates herself in these situations. And learns and reports on these situations.

In one scene, Baker is approached by a group of village women completely covered from head to toe, including their faces, who inform her that they, not the Taliban are blowing up the wells built by the Marines so that they can go to the river to fetch water. That being the only place they can freely talk and gossip away from the harsh restrictions imposed upon them by the mullahs of the village. Baker wins kudos from the colonel for that valuable intell.

In another funny but touching scene, Baker must in turn wear a full blue chador, which she jokingly refers to as to being encased in a full blue Ikea bag, in order to travel to the more dangerous Taliban-controlled city of Kandahar.

Where she witnesses and reports, first-hand on a fire-bombed school for young women.

Unlike in the Academy Award- winning film, “Spotlight”, I particularly liked the way the film depicts these war-hardened journalists and photo-journalists, more honestly, as flawed human beings- motivated by ego, ambition and apparently addicted to seeking greater risks and dangers, often at the expense of those around them.

Finally, kudos to Fey, Michaels, the writer Robert Carlock, directors Glen Ficarra, John Requa and of course, Kim Baker for having the guts to bring the story of the forgotten war of Afghanistan onto the screen and to America.

Fortunately the Age of Obama is coming to a close. It was a sorry time in American history, when America’s fighting forces were ignored as a nuisance. Instead of being honored for their service to their country. But the pendulum is swinging back. Above all, this film honors America’s fighting men and women in far off wars.

Who fight and put their lives at risk, so Afghan girls can get an education and American men and women are protected from vicious and evil radical Islamists as ISIS.

Hooya!!!

Oscar ratings hit new LOW: Middle America tuned out Chris Rock’s “diversity” lecture

This year’s Oscars show, put on by The Academy of Arts and Sciences (under the leadership of non-film maker/non-actor/black public relations flak Cheryl Boone Isaacs), was viewed in America by approximately 34.3 million people.

That sounds like a lot but this was the lowest viewership in eight years — and the third lowest since Nielsen began tracking viewership in the mid-1970s!

Put in context, the Chris Rock-hosted, black-oriented Oscars were 6% lower in viewership numbers and 3% lower in the 18-49 adult demographic than last year’s Neil Patrick Harris-hosted Oscars, which in itself was one of the most poorly-watched Oscar shows since the 1970s.

These horrible numbers indicate that the vast majority of American people voted “with their feet” — or, more accurately, with their remote. Those who did tune in at the beginning turned it off as the show doubled down on lame, unfunny “diversity” jokes.

The New York Times reported:

“Nielsen data reflecting quarter-hour segments of viewership indicates that Sunday’s show appeared to lose viewers as glamour (and movies) increasingly took a back seat to activism. The show started with ratings roughly on par with last year’s. But in 2015 the numbers then climbed and remained fairly stable, while Sunday’s ratings fluctuated and then fell more steadily in the show’s last hour.”

Most of the American people outside the liberal elite enclaves of LA and New York have turned their backs on politically correct liberal Hollywood and on talentless, whining, self-entitled, self-centered multi-millionaire black actors, actresses and entertainers.

In January of this year, when the Oscar nominations were announced, and no black actors or actresses were nominated, many in the black community and white liberal Hollywood thought a horrible injustice had occurred.

Specifically, mega star and multi-millionaire Will Smith (“Concussion”) and his wife Jada Pinkett Smith(“Magic Mike XXL”), went public with their disgust, primarily because Will Smith, who thought he deserved an Oscar nomination for his role as the real-life Nigerian-born doctor who discovered the link between head trauma from football, and the early onset of dementia and death.

Will and Jada Smith then announced they were boycotting the Oscar ceremonies. They were joined by black filmmaker Spike Lee and white doc filmmaker Michael Moore.

Needless to say the Hollywood liberal press and media went nuts, all writing about the boycott and #OscarsSoWhite.

As is usually the case, with the insulated liberal elite press on both coasts, who drink their own bathwater, the rest of America did not see what all the fuss was about.

Will Smith was horribly miscast in the “Concussion” flick. His accent was artificial, and his acting, one dimensional. The film is too pedantic, and it sank without a trace. Furthermore, for Will and Jada and their Hollywood liberal supporters to suggest that Hollywood is racist and he has been discriminated against, shall we say, was beyond the pale.

The Smiths are each multimillionaires, collectively worth over $200 million. They live in a Malibu home on 100 acres worth conservatively over $30 million.

The Smiths are the beneficiaries of Hollywood. Not victims of racism.

Accordingly, as the voices for pro diversity in Hollywood got louder and louder, with calls for Chris Rock to step down as Oscar host, the rest of America began turning away from this liberal, guilt-ridden, “black actors as Hollywood victims” lunacy.

You could hear it in the voices of outraged middle Americans on talk radio shows. You could read their disgust in conservative blogs and commentaries on the internet.

This is not a racist response. It is a call by Middle America for success based on merit, not based on liberal guilt.

Middle America views the word “diversity” as code for giving preferential treatment to American blacks, simply on the basis of color, not due to merit, hard work or sacrifice.

And Middle America is mad as hell and not buying any more of this b.s. The numbers do not lie.

It is no coincidence that this current black American push for diversity in Hollywood and on college campuses is occurring during the dying days of Barack Obama’s race-based presidency.

Obama would not have beaten Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primaries and gone on to be elected president if he had been a no-name junior white senator from Illinois.

Obama ran as the first black president. He won on that basis and he has governed as a black president.

The country is finally sick and tired of Obama and his black race-based presidency.

And as the country turned against a black-hosted race-based Oscar show, the country is turning against Obama’s  black, race-based administration.