The Academy Awards ceremony will be broadcast this Sunday for those of you interested in such things. I used to be an avid follower of the Oscars, but over the years I’ve realized it’s nothing more than a shallow celebration of spoiled, overpaid and Botox-ed individuals who wouldn’t be caught dead in a Waffle House.
Of course, had I landed that plum role on Beverly Hills 90210 for which I auditioned in 1989, I might be singing a different tune. I’m quite certain that my career would have taken off to the stratosphere, and I would be walking the red carpet on a regular basis. Damn you, Jason Priestley!
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Priestley had been in a major automobile accident on the day of his audition, and fate would have landed me in the role of Brandon Walsh. I can tell you that the trajectory of my rise to fame would have been fast and bright.
Yes, I would have graced the covers of such magazines as Tiger Beat and Teen Beat, yet my magnetic personality and my mysterious, yet devastatingly handsome looks would have also garnered the attention of Rolling Stone, GQ and several female supermodels with exotic accents.
Quickly, all would have realized that 90210 was a completely inferior home for my intense Brando-like raw talent. Much to the disappointment of my fans, I would have been released from my contract within two years in order to concentrate on my film career. My final 90210 episode where Brandon choked to death on a chili dog at the Peach Pit would have been the highest rated television broadcast since man walked on the moon.
Through the 1990s, I would have worked with a variety of directing legends: Scorsese, Kubrick, Spielberg, Tarantino, Coppola, etc. All would have told the press that I was the leading actor of my generation and possibly the best actor with whom they ever had the privilege to work. As such, actors such as De Niro, Pitt, Cruise, Pacino and Hanks would be intensely jealous of my career and would collectively procure the services of a professional hit man to kill me and get me out of the picture – and their way.
Unfortunately their plan would have backfired when I successfully fought the assassin with my bare hands as he tried to kill me during a romantic liaison with Cruise’s then-wife, Nicole Kidman. After ripping off the would-be killer’s scalp with my bare hands, he would have confessed to me that the aforementioned actors’ plan, and I would have gone to each of their homes and unleashed my deadly kung fu skills, leaving them weeping for mercy, completely bloody and battered.
My romantic adventures would have been legendary and made Hollywood Casanovas such as Warren Beatty and Jack Nicholson blush. A particular incident where paparazzi would catch me in a hot tub with Penelope Cruz, Winona Ryder, Sharon Stone, Julia Roberts and Heidi Klum would have cemented my lothario status, however a later catfight that found Klum and Stone pulling each other’s hair out over my affections would have been a slight stain on my celebrity since it would have been discovered that I encouraged – and even videotaped – the violent showdown. As such, several prominent women organizations would have called for a boycott of my films, and I would have seen a gradual decline in my career.
In 2003, a year after the incident, I would have disappeared from public view for a two year period. During this time, I would have blazed through my millions of dollars, spending money on luxury automobiles, large amounts of cough syrup, and a bad investment in a chain of spray tanning salons.
I would test the waters in 2005 with an appearance in a Lifetime movie where I played a handsome veterinarian in a small town dating a teacher played by Jennifer Love Hewitt. My character is then shocked and heartbroken when he finds out she has fallen in love with one of her kindergarten students. I also would have participated in an episode of Celebrity Fear Factor only to be disqualified when I vomited all over Stephen Baldwin after trying to eat a live pregnant catfish.
With my comeback sputtering along, I would have finally decided to give up and head back to Arkansas with my tail between my legs. To pass the time and pay the bills, I would have opened a Chinese buffet and fed my performance urges by acting in community theatre productions and dancing in a Statue of Liberty get-up in front of a tax preparation business.
Dissatisfied with all of this, I would have finally held my nose and, in order to pay the rent, I would have waded into possibly the lowest form of employment muck: I’d start writing a nonsensical newspaper column.
Now that I look at what could have happened if I had made it to 90210, I count my lucky stars for Jason Priestley. Things really worked out for the best.
Writing a newspaper column? Please. I’d jump off a cliff if I ever had to resort to that.
Wait a minute.