Jennifer Lawrence’s essay about Hollywood’s gender pay gap is quickly becoming a very popular way for idiot shit people to say regrettable things out loud, right out of their stupid mouths. David O. Russell, director of several mediocre Oscar winners, is the most recent shit person to do so.

Walking into the event, the men at the escalators were quick to ask, "Do you want to do the red carpet? Because if you want to do the red carpet, you must go downstairs." Down an escalator and through the hall, the red carpet—a thing one might do—sat in between two sliding glass doors. It looked like red Astroturf and was flanked by cheap lattice covered in faux moss. The rug seemed ashamed. The reporters lining the carpet were largely of the "local news" variety. No one cares about the Writers Guild Awards.

David O. Russell is the smartest man in Hollywood. First, he tricked audiences into believing Jennifer Lawrence, then 21, was old enough to play a worldly widow in Silver Linings Playbook. Then he tricked audiences into believing Lawrence, then 22, could realistically play Christian Bale's bored housewife in American Hustle while simultaneously tricking people into believing it was an Oscar-worthy film.