every year my film-critic dad predicts who will win the oscars. some years it seems as if he has broken into the academy’s private office and gone through each suitcase. other years, it seems as if he fell asleep whilst watching mtv. the most exciting part is that we cannot anticipate his fate until the night of. with his paper and pen, he either makes a large red heart around his correct pick or runs out in the backyard in his slippers, and throws the reel into a garbage can aflame while shouting yiddish slurs. good thing our neighborhood is goyim.

 so whether you agree with my ole’ man or not, here they are.