How "In Memoriam," on Oscar night, was used to sell us even more "vaccines"

Another reason why the 94th Academy Awards, though not a big hit with the global audience, was VERY good for Pfizer and BioNTech, the evening's criminal sponsors

Suffering through the Oscars Sunday night, I thought the segment “In Memoriam”—the annual montage reviewing “those who’ve left us” this past year—was just another tasteless moment of “woke” self-regard, like nearly every other moment in that painful spectacle (which pulled the second-lowest ratings in the ceremony’s history on TV). It took me a few days to see that it was not gratuitously tasteless, but tasteless quite on purpose, so as to serve the same infernal propaganda narrative that Hollywood, and (it seems) nearly everybody in it, have been flogging since “the virus” first emerged over two years ago. That even (or especially) “In Memoriam” would be deliberately corrupted to maintain that narrative is not at all far-fetched, since this year’s Academy Awards—just like most TV news—was “brought to you” by Pfizer and BioNTech, which have so much to hide, and therefore use their advertising dollars to ensure that what they have to hide stays out of sight, and out of mind.

This brings us to that other moment Sunday night—the one that grabbed the world’s attention, when (as I don’t have to tell you) Will Smith attacked Chris Rock right there on stage, or seemed to, for disrespecting Jada Plunkett Smith’s shaved head. See, she has alopecia, as all the world now knows; and, as it just so happens, Pfizer is releasing a new alopecia drug—the first such drug!—which will now sell to millions, “our free press” having, all this week, run many helpful stories (or one story) about what alopecia is, and how hard it is to treat, etc.

This big coincidence has prompted some to argue that the Will Smith/Chris Rock smackdown was staged, with their complicity. While I appreciate the logic there, I have some trouble seeing what Will Smith in particular would have to gain from taking part in such a hoax, which was a very big embarrassment for him. It’s possible, of course, like so many other wild-seeming scenarios that make more sense than we prefer to think; but I believe we ought to focus first on other, more demonstrable and less outlandish strokes of propaganda—like this year’s purposely defective, and grossly disrespectful, “In Memoriam.”

No Oscar-viewer with any memory left could fail to note how wrong this latest version was, as it reduced the dead to an occasion for yet one more exhibition of collective narcissism. Instead of letting the montage fill the screen, as in years past, the names and faces of the dead appearing either silently, or under somber music playing quietly—a rare moment of (something like) reflective calm amid the raucous, titty din of Oscar Night—this year the show’s producers used the montage as a backdrop for another big production number, featuring a hyper-active phalanx of singer/dancers—mostly black, and led by an ebullient black performer—belting out some numbers that I can’t identify, as I was too grossed out by that tasteless spectacle to note what songs they were all bellowing “in remembrance.”

I also could have done without the bits where living movie stars popped up in spotlight (the chorus humming and cavorting at their backs) to lavish praises on the dead in ways that pointed toward themselves. Thus Tyler Perry lauded Sidney Poitier, not for his artistry as actor and director, but for his having set the stage for the career of Tyler Perry:

He was the first, and for far too long, the only, Black man to win an Oscar for Best Actor. When he stood on that stage, he did more than shatter a barrier. He stood there for all that came before him, and sparked the dreams of all who followed.

I would not be here today without Sidney. All of us are so blessed and honored to have been inspired by him. To you, sir, with all of our love.

Likewise, Jamie Lee Curtis, holding a cute puppy, popped up to tell us how much everybody misses Betty White (who died, on December 31, of “natural causes,” or a stroke, or nothing in particular):

She was not only a Golden Girl, she was a legend who brightened every room she walked in and brought a smile to the faces of all who watched her on the screen. And day in and day out for almost a century, she was a woman who cared so much for not just her two-legged friends but for animals just like this.

So the greatest gift you could give Betty White is to open your heart and your home and adopt a rescue dog just like Mac-N-Cheese from Paw Works. So thank you, Betty, thank you for being a friend to us all.

And Bill Murray popped up, too, to say how much he misses “my friend” Ivan Reitman (who “died suddenly” on February 12).

While I certainly don’t doubt Murray’s grief, or Curtis’ fondness for Betty White (or puppies), or Perry’s reverence for Sidney Poitier (though I suspect that Perry would “be here today without Sidney”), those three performances were doubly crass. For one thing, there was no such heartfelt tribute to, say, William Hurt (who died of “natural causes” on March 13, at 71), or producer Jerome Hellman (who died last year, no cause reported), or director Richard Donner (who died last year, no cause reported), or Willie Garson (who died last year, of sudden pancreatic cancer), or Jean-Marc Vallée (who died this year, no cause reported), or any of the others who have “left us” since 2020. Moreover—and again—the showy eulogies by those three stars made that “sad” moment less about the dear departed than about themselves, and, by extension, the entire Hollywood “community,” and how supremely good it is, what with its fierce commitment to all “people of color” (if they’re not “vaccine-hesitant”), LGBTQ+ people (ditto), deaf people (the reason Coda won the Oscar for Best Picture), rescue animals, “climate action” and Ukrainians (except those getting shelled and bombed by Nazis in the East).

And yet that startling crassness may have been the sort of ploy that some think Will Smith and Chris Rock helped pull off; although its purpose wouldn’t be to sell some poisonous new Pfizer product, but, rather, to distract us from an effort to conceal some vivid evidence that Pfizer/BioNTech have, through their most profitable product ever, been killing, gravely injuring and/or sterilizing people in unprecedented numbers—including countless “people of color,” LGBTQ+ people, deaf people and Ukrainians (and Russians). This year’s “In Memoriam” contained such evidence; or, rather, would have, if someone had not intervened to lower the number of all “those who’ve left us” this past year, by leaving out some names—perhaps a lot of names—that should have been included.

Why was Bob Saget—who appeared in 15 movies, and himself won an Oscar in his youth—not mentioned in that retrospective? If it included William Hurt, who also died in 2022 (of “natural causes”), and over two months after Saget died (having fallen on his head for no reported reason), why was that beloved comic’s death left out? His exclusion made some news, because of a swift outcry by his fans—as also happened with comedian Norm McDonald, who died last year (of cancer), yet who went unremembered Sunday night, in spite of his prolific voice-work and appearances in movies, as well as his comedic stardom on TV.

And why was there no mention of Ed Asner (who died last spring at 91, reportedly of “natural causes”), despite his having been in over 80 films, including JFK, Fort Apache: The Bronx and They Call Me Mister Tibbs! (as well as his key voice-work in Up, a major hit)? Where was Jean-Marc Vallée (who “died suddenly of a suspected heart attack” on December 31—the same day that Betty White “died suddenly” at the ripe old age of 100)? Surely the director of The Dallas Buyers Club (and, on TV, “Big Little Lies”) deserved remembrance at the Oscars. Where was veteran character actor Willie Garson (who died last September, at 57, of sudden pancreatic cancer)? Aside from his work on “Sex and the City” and over 300 other TV shows, Garson acted in over 70 films. And where was underground filmmaker Robert Downey, Sr. (who died last July, reportedly of “complications from Parkinson’s disease”)? Surely the director of Putney Swope (and co-producer of Robert Downey, Jr.) deserved to be remembered at the Oscars. And so did John Korty, cinematic jack-of-all-trades, whose documentary Who Are the DeBolts? And Where Did They Get Nineteen Kids? won an Oscar in 1977; who won an Emmy for directing The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman in 1974; and who worked closely with George Lucas. (Korty died, of no reported cause, on March 9.)

All those names missing from the video remembrance Sunday night are listed on the Academy’s memorial webpage (as noted in the video). So why were they excluded from the show? As one who’s watched the Oscars every year since Lawrence of Arabia won Best Picture, I feel confident in saying that the missing noted here would ordinarily have been included in the segment, which always featured even very minor figures. This time, a Big Goodbye that did include Ed Asner, Bob Saget, Norm McDonald, Willie Garson, Robert Downey, Sr., John Korty and Jean-Marc Vallée—and all the other movie people who have “left us” this past year, yet also went unmentioned Sunday night (including Jackie Mason, Suzzanne Douglas, Lois De Banzie, Frank MacRae, Helen McCrory, Barbara Shelley, Paul Ritter, Jessica Walter and Michael Constantine)—would have dragged on sadly for way longer than that segment ever had before; and such an over-crowded melancholy segment would not just have killed the show’s hysterically celebratory mood, and added several minutes to the broadcast, but, crucially, it also would have called attention to precisely what both Pfizer and BioNTech—and the CDC and WHO, and the CIA and DoD, and (therefore) “our free press”—want everybody not to notice: that those “vaccines” are killing people in unprecedented numbers, throughout the movie industry no less than in the military and professional sports; and so the simplest way to solve that propaganda problem was to leave a lot of those departed on the cutting-room floor—and then to (try to) cover up all those exclusions, or distract us from them, with that loud, “woke” battalion of frenetic singer/dancers, and those three stagy tributes by Bill Murray, Tyler Perry and Jamie Lee Curtis (and her little dog, too).

It bears noting here that all too many of this past year’s multitude of “those who’ve left us” either “died suddenly” of no apparent cause, or of a “massive heart attack” or stroke, or of a swift, aggressive cancer; and that a considerable number of them—including Betty White, Bob Saget, Willie Garson and Ed Asner—had been “vaccinated” very publicly within the weeks or months before, to get the rest of us to do so, too. Thus an all-inclusive “In Memoriam” would not just have called attention to the recent sky-high number of the dead, but also might have prompted some attentive viewers to check back on why so many have been dropping dead, and then put two and together, coming up with four instead of five. Such viewers might then go on to see that grim toll as connected to the ongoing accelerated die-off of professional athletes, and student athletes, and coaches, and soldiers, and firefighters, and also to such more-than-likely “vaccine” injuries as Bruce Willis’s career-ending aphasia (one week after his booster), and all the others that will be reported soon (unless the authors of this nightmare finally hit the kill switch on the Internet).

It was, in short, to keep us all unconscious of the toll of those “vaccines,” so that we will keep getting “vaccinated,” that the Academy repaid both Pfizer and BioNTech for their sponsorship by lowballing the true number of its members who “died suddenly” just this past year. For all such criminal collusion with Big Pharma—including every movie star, dead of living, who has spotlighted his/her own “vaccination” as a come-on to the rest of us, with no due diligence at all—Hollywood will one day stand accused, along with all Big Pharma’s other institutional accomplices (just as Germany’s film industry was held accountable for having helped enable that first Holocaust).