Gabourey Sidibe: The Sanctimony of Hollywood’s Anorexic Tears.

“Every phony who had a microphone took a moment to patronize Sidibe solely because she is black and enormously fat. Sorry but that is the sad truth.  Another sad truth is that Hollywood treats black people like cute little pets and not as human beings.  I am sure that Miss Sidibe is an inwardly beautiful and talented person, but she is dangerously overweight from carrying both a lot of her own fat and the weight of all the false praise Hollywood has heaped upon her back.” [David D. Mattia – Hollywood Writer/Producer]  <– Click on him.  He’s really kind of smart.

She’s precious you say?  Well, I say that if her body hit the earth at 17,000 mph nobody would be around to appreciate her alleged preciousness. Certainly she is deserving of praise for scoring an Oscar nomination on her first movie,  but the sanctimony behind that acclaim runs deeper than the crack of Chaz Bono’s butt.

Woe that I should be labeled unkind, but why is anorexic Hollywood glorifying a woman who has obvioulsy ventured so far into the realm of morbid obesity that she has her own area code?  Had she won the Oscar, the weight of the statue and her own inherent mass could very well have put her into an elipitical orbit around the earth. Do you know what that would have done to the earth’s climate and the ocean’s tides?  It would be pretty nasty if you didn’t count the joy of seeing Los Angeles swept away into the volcanic trenches of the oceanic hell where it belongs.

Anyway, out in Hollywood —  the place where Death is taking an industrious working vacation — some unhappy movie geek recently made a movie mocking McDonalds and fast food in general.   Of course every adipose impaired wraith on the red carpet in  premature-death-city lauded the documentary in their traditionally mindless lockstep.  It reminded me of a 1980’s cult who called themselves “Breathaerians.”  They insisted they never ate and their leader denied having ingested anything other than lemon water for over twenty years.  Of course the whole cult crumbled when somebody snapped a photo of said leader eating a quarter-pounder with cheese in –you guessed it — McDonalds.

The irony, however,  is that Hollywood is a place where people do not eat, and when they are forced to, they usually puke it up in their Coach bag and dump it in the woods because it’s “green.”

In their endless quest to be wafer thin ,  and then in turn to foist this concentration-camp-chic on the youth of the world, quite a few wanna-be starlets have bit the dust — probably because they were trying to eat it.   Yet somehow,  in their never ending hypocrisy, the actresses of Hollywood have opted  to  hold up Miss Sidibe, a medical nightmare in the making, as a pillar of hope and goodness and beauty.   Sometimes sanctimony leaves behind the smell of sulphur and this year’s Academy Awards should have run a pre-show warning to close cover before striking.

This woman is not a role model.  If she were doing Kentucky Fried Chicken commercials instead of playing a role that exploited her girth there would not be enough plywood in the world to board up all the KFC’s thet would eventually succumb to the wrath of the Hollywood elite.   The company would be beaten down by Tinseltown; accused of demoralizing this poor, pitiful creature and steadfastly deemed unworthy to do business in polite society.

Further Hollywood hypocrisy in the case of Gabourey Sidibe manifests itself oh-so-sneakily in the shape of why elite, Hollywood racism is good, while your average, everyday, mid-western racism is bad.

You see,  Hollywood rallies against the use of the “Magical Negro” character in movies and TV, but they always use it, and in this case they’ve conjured up their ultimate fantasy — a magical negro who is actually a living person named Gabourey Sidibe.   They can cry when she cries and they can dab at their tears when she dabs at hers.  My own best guess is that Sidibe’s tears are real, but Hollywood’s are always, always, always, artficial.

If you are not familiar with the concept of the magical negro, think of Scatman Crother’s mind-reading character in “The Shining” or Michael Clarke Duncan’s ability to restore life to the dead  in “The Green Mile.” In these films the African (American in this case) is possessing of mystical powers that stupify the white man.  It’s incredibly offensive and Hollywood insists they hate it, but they just can’t seem to stop doing it.

“Doctor it hurts when we do this.  Please tell us to stop doing it?”

Why did so many award presenters feel the need to tell Sidibe how beautiful she was, and why harken back to Hattie McDaniel when that happened 70 years ago?  People are so past even noticing another person’s race in a motion picture that it’s absurd to have even mentioned it.  But the truth is that some people, the last one’s you’d expect, are not past noticing and noting race under the oh-so-obvious played out guise of being good people.  Hollywood gilds its guilt with false praise and maudlin sentiment — it makes for great TV once every March.

With fondest regards,

Damien LeGallienne

Mon at 9:03am ·