I don’t understand Oscar season.

As an anxiety-riddled, hyperventilating-mess, the glands in my brain-pipes often don’t work well enough for me to understand much. But I’m sure, even after a fresh dump, a jettisoned load, and my favorite strain of THC, I still wouldn’t understand Awards season.

I get watching a bunch of people sucking one another off. Covering each other in fluids and fantasy, moaning and churning against one another, hoping for the big finish to end up in their hands.

But, I still don’t understand Oscar season.

Or, maybe it’s that I understand Oscar season. And I hate it.

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