Monday night, 1.22, 11:30 pm. Bradley Cooper‘s cell phone rings…
Cooper: Hullo?
Mysterious baritone voice: Bradley? This is Charles Melton.
Cooper: What?
Mysterious baritone voice: You know who this is, right?
Cooper: No.
Mysterious baritone voice: You don’t recognize my voice?
Cooper: No.
Mysterious baritone voice: I’m that upper-echelon Academy guy…you remember…and I’m calling to offer you a choice. We can fix or change the nominations any way we want until the very last minute, and a few of us really loved Maestro so we’re offering you a special deal.
Cooper: Yeah?
Mysterious baritone voice: The deal is you get to pick your category. Do you want to be nominated for Best Actor for playing croaky-voiced, chain-smoking Leonard Bernstein, or do you want a Best Director nomination for Maestro?
Cooper: You can fix this?
Mysterious baritone voice: Yes, we can.
Cooper: Obviously Best Director….Jesus.
Mysterious baritone voice: Okay, but now I have to put on my asshole hat. We decided before calling you that whatever category you chose, we’re putting you into the other category.
Cooper: What?
Mysterious baritone voice: We decided this in advance. No offense.
Cooper: You fucking prick. Fix it back. I want Best Director.
Mysterious baritone voice: That’s a no-go, Brad. Besides we’ve already blown off Alexander Payne and Greta Gerwig. And you know why? Because Justine Triet and Jonathan Glazer were voted in. Sorry, man, but there’s no room. Plus we decided. Be happy with Best Actor.
Cooper: I am happy with Best Actor but I told you I would’ve preferred Best Director, and then you pulled the rug out.
Mysterious baritone voice: Sorry, man. That was mean but not my call. I just work here.