Cowardly Bastard Of The Week

A large chunk of the western hemisphere spent an hour or so early last week taking in the Golden Globe Awards, an event full of glitz, glamour, assholes, and Ricky Gervais. Somehow sensing the impending stench of ego, Mr. Gervais prepared his monologue and let the shots rip. All seemed fair and people like Al Pacino and Hugh Hefner openly laughed at the Brit comic's skit that seemed slightly borrowed from Russell Brand without the ewww factor. 

But someone didn't think it was funny, or at least wanted to bask in the scent of Gervais' fartstorm. And that dude would be Judd Apatow. You see, the egos in Hollyweird weren't satisfied with the Globes- their collective amour-propre required yet another gala for famous people to get free shit and adulation. The Producers' Guild Awards were held Saturday at the same hotel and in the same ballroom as the Globes. If you haven't heard of the Producers Guild Awards, you are not alone; if you haven't heard of Apatow, you've heard of his films.

So, thinking that since Apatow produced The 40 Year Old Virgin, people thought dude might be reasonably funny. So he got the hosting gig at The Awards Nobody Gives A Shit About and he was incredibly unfunny. His entire monologue was an asskissing rebuttal of Ricky Gervais. He came to the defense of everyone worth knowing in Hollywood and Tim Allen and tore into Gervais. It was banal and chickenshit and it became beyond clear that Apatow was simply riding Ricky Gervais' coattails.

 Judd Apatow's nutsucking spectacular proved exactly how incestuous Hollywood is becoming. The Producers Guild Awards are one big teabagging event; where people who want financing for their shitty films get the chance to smell the scrotal sweat of those that have the dough. Now Apatow knows whose asses to kiss, but stealing another dude's coat to kiss ass is a monumental low. After this snogfest, I'm left to wonder if there is anyone left in LA who possesses a spine, save for people I already know.

  And Judd, if you didn't catch the drift: You possess a degree of pussitude so severe that it may be immeasurable. You've sunk to Russell Brand's level of repulsiveness in one monologue.

Yeah, yeah, yeah- Apatow has more money than me. Whatever. Next.