Russell Crowe Receives Oscar Nod for Role in Ben Gay Commercial

n a move destined to boil the blood of the fourteen Americans who still associate the Oscars with outstanding achievement in film, the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences announced Tuesday that it has added a supplemental Best Actor nomination to the field for this year's awards.

The additional nomination was given to Australian actor Russell Crowe for his performance in a 30-second Ben Gay commercial from 1991, which featured Crowe touting the virtues of the medicated ointment from a locker room after a taxing squash workout.

Reaction has been swift and fast from film critics and movie buffs alike, who suggest that the Academy's butt-kissing of Crowe has reached an unprecedented level now that they have run out of film performances for which to nominate the actor.

Some feel that the academy jumped the gun when it nominated Crowe for the low-budget Aussie children's fantasy Roadblock and Wanker last year, arguing that they should have saved the film, which features the voice talents of a 16 year-old Crowe, in case he went a year without making a feature film in the future. Others point out that Crowe was already nominated in the same category this year for A Beautiful Mind, and that the commercial in question came out in 1991, technically making it ineligible for this year's awards. And even if it were, it wouldn't be since it was a commercial and the Oscars tend to be reserved for feature films. Many others feel that this level of praise is unreasonable for an actor who's basically Clint Eastwood with an accent.

The Academy had already come under fire in recent months for its controversial creation of the Kevin Spacey Perpetual Award, which honors American actor Kevin Spacey on a yearly basis. But even the harshest critics of that move suggest that it made a lot more sense than the Academy's constant sucking up to Crowe, who many feel represents a "cool, slightly-dangerous older brother" figure to Academy voters.

"Of course it's a controversial nomination," stated Academy spokesperson Emeril Juanna. "Everyone knows that, and don't think for a second that there aren't members of the Academy who think Russell's work in that 'Fast Actin Tinactin' ad he did in 1990 was the superior performance. But we made our choice and we could only choose one Russell Crowe commercial. This year, anyway."

Nominees for Best Actor are decided by the acting arm of the Academy, which consists of several-hundred industry people who have claimed to be actors at parties or when filling out product registration cards. Academy member and unemployed soap opera actor Kenny Middle attempts to explain the reasoning behind the Academy's unprecedented move:

"Well, I think you know how the ladies on the committee voted, so there's no need to go into that. And as for us guys, I don't know, you know? I think maybe there's a little part of each of us that thinks it would be pretty cool if one day we got to hang out with Russell, and his band 30 Odd Foot of Grunts. Maybe sit in on bass or something, you know? Maybe bum a cigarette and just hang loose. That's a factor that can't be denied. And really, at the heart of it all, wouldn't it just be awesome as hell to be Russell Crowe for a while? To have the famous chicks all over you like bimbos on a Kennedy? Getting fat paychecks and awards left and right just for mumbling your way through movies? And how about that roguish charm? Plus you'd get to cash in on the whole 'foreign guy' angle, which is huge with the ladies, without having to ever live in a mud hut or eat English food or anything like that. Instead, you run your own sheep farm or some bullshit like that and come off sounding like a real badass. And you look white as anybody else, so no problems there; you just get a cool accent and the credentials to back it up. Talk about sweet. So anyway, when you take all of that into consideration I don't think it's at all surprising that Russell got nominated again. We're all big fans."

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"I'm hungry enough to kick an old lady down a fire escape!"

The worst thing is when you're hungry for something, but you don't know what it is. People will start naming off all the things you can eat and none of it sounds good, and believe me, it's a long list if you just name off thing after thing. If someone was a real asshole they could list things they know you're not in the mood for like duck ass and iceberg. Just keep saying variations on the same thing, too: "Duck wing? Duck feet? Duck face? Duck brain?" I'm going to do that next time I get a shot.

I went to Burger King where they say I can have it my way, but the manager said the commercial wasn't talking to me when they said that. I had it their way, and it was alright. No fries with cheese cooked inside or hamburger buns made of pork, but it was good enough. I was hungry enough to eat donkey balls, though. I kept saying that and some of those kids in the great big Grimace on the giant spring started crying. You know, I don't think I was at Burger King at all. Which makes it easy to see why they made me have it some other way.

One time I told my mom I was hungry enough to eat Grandma and she made me do it. She said it was Grandma, anyway, she was probably just lying. Whoever it was, their toenails were nasty and smelled like Grandma's. Even deep-frying couldn't take out the stink.

Mom deep-fried everything. She was always playing gags on us, too. I pissed her off one Christmas by giving her a homemade gift instead of the hibachi she wanted but instead of saying anything she pretended she liked it and began plotting her revenge. Then, one day in July I came home from school, hungry as usual, and ate so fast I almost got a headache. Mom was laughing like crazy real loud in the corner and when I asked her why she told me I had just eaten my pajamas. Hell, she deep-fried them so long they tasted like pork rinds, how was I supposed to know? It was hard to get to sleep that night, my stomach hurt and I was cold 'cause I didn't have any pajamas, but I started to really appreciate the cleverness of the joke by morning time.

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Once upon a time, there lived a poor old cobbler who was very sad because he could have no children. He would wander up and down the road kicking puppies into the street gutter and praying to God to give him a child. Any child. Even someone else's child. Then, one day, he got married.

Before too long, his wife was pregnant and he knew that one day, he would have a child. This made him so happy he could scarcely cobble (or whatever the heck it is a poor cobbler does for a living). He and his lovely wife (who dies very soon in this story so let's not bother giving her a name) were very happy when the time came for her to have the baby, but since medical science was not very advanced at this time (they would drill open a hole in your skull to let the demons out if you complained about a broken foot) she died.

Well, the poor cobbler was heartbroken that his wife, uh, whatshername, died. He was so heartbroken that even six straight hours of cobbling couldn't take his mind off it. So he named his child "That Kid Who Killed My Wife." Later, he wised up and changed the name to "Benjamin." Benjamin was a cute little boy and he would often help his father cobble. Then, the poor cobbler met another lovely woman and fell in love with her. Luckily, she fell in love with him too and they got married at the local 7-11 during rush hour next to the Slurpee machine.

The poor cobbler's new wife was a cruel woman, though. And she greatly despised Benjamin because she knew he would inherit all of her new husband's inheritance when he died (something she had planned for Labor Day right in time for the sales). This greatly upset her, and when she gave birth to a daughter, she named her "Better Than Benjamin" but the poor cobbler made her rename the child "Stephany."

Stephany and Benjamin grew up as great and dear friends and loved each other immensely. One day, they were playing under some power lines and frying ants with a magnifying glass while their father was busy cobbling. The step-mother (or mother in Stephany's case but we'll refer to her as "step-mother" from now on) went and made some lemonade. Then, she prepared two cups—one with poison in it and the other one, well, with no poison in it. She filled them both with lemonade and called for the children to come in.

The children ran into the house, fell to the ground, paused, got back up, and then ran through the door. The step-mother handed them cups full of lemonade and told them to go back outside after they were done so she could get back to knitting that body bag. They gleefully drank down their cups of lemonade. The step-mother smiled wickedly to herself and watched them run back outside. Hours later, they returned for more lemonade. Unbeknownst to the step-mother, Benjamin had spent his off-time from cobbling as a poison specialist and had developed an immunity to most poisons. "Drat," said his step-mother. "I forgot about that."

So another day, after the poor cobbler went to a Cobbling Convention in Las Vegas, she conceived her next plot. She told the children it was time for their baths. She took little Stephany in, gave her a nice hot bath with Bubbles. Bubbles was always taking baths with Stephany because she loved that dog. Anyway, after her bath, Stephany put a leash on Bubbles and took her out to play in the yard. And it was time for Benjamin to have his bath.

But before Benjamin could have his bath, the step-mother placed the television over the bathtub. Benjamin got in, with his rubber ducky and his toy boat and his raft and his inflatable sex toy and his pet plunger and his stamp collection and his favorite bar of soap: Whitey Soapsworth the III. Then, as he scrubbed away at his ears with Whitey Soapsworth the III, the step-mother pushed the television at the bathtub. And she pushed and pushed and pushed, but it was a 32 inch television and it just wouldn't fit (they had a small tub) so she gave up.

Finally, after many years, the family grew old and died. All of them. Forget I even started this story. It really didn't have a decent ending. I do apologize for wasting your time.

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