Live! From the Red Carpet in Heaven—It’s Joan Rivers

Screw you, Oscars! Who needs you anyway, when I’m up here on a cloud made of albino tiger fur, dishing with with Liberace and Liz Taylor!

Can we talk?

Hello, it’s Joan! Or maybe I should pretend to be marketing executive Nadia Bronson. Who’s that, you ask? She’s one of the 40,000 dead people the Oscars thought was more deserving than me to be included in that schmaltzy “in memoriam” segment last night! I mean, can we talk?

I invented the Red Carpet! Without me asking “Who are you wearing?” it’s just another parade of glitzed-up people with big boobs waiting on line for the chance to get excited for 30 seconds—and you can find that outside Leonardo DiCaprio’s bedroom door any night of the week.

So screw you, Oscars! Who needs you anyway, when I’m up here in Heaven sitting on a cloud made of albino tiger fur, dishing the gossip with Liberace, Liz Taylor, and Cleopatra (you should have seen the catfight those three had over a tiara from my Joan Rivers Jewelry collection). I love it up here! Right over there, Michelangelo is adding some tasteful touches to my bathroom ceiling, and I’ve got James Dean, JFK Jr., and young Marlon Brando taking turns giving me foot rubs while I watch a live stream of everything going on down on Earth. Melissa, honey, I can see you! Would it kill you to put on a little lipstick?

So let’s talk. I couldn’t believe how white these Oscars were! No, I’m not talking about all the nominees, but the dresses! The last time I saw that much white on the red carpet, Courtney Love was crawling around snorting it up her nose. Reese, Patricia, Gaga, Kerry, Lupita, Marion, Julianne—they all look like they wandered in from “Who Wants to Marry a Weinstein Brother?” White is BORING, ladies, give me some color! Take a look at Rosamund Pike—OK, so it looked like someone threw up a Russell Stover Valentine’s candy box on her, but it was GORGEOUS.

Also looking hot, hot, hot in red—"Fifty Shades of Grey" star Dakota Johnson. Did you see that sparkly-silver cord on her shoulder? Meet up with her in bathroom stall number 3, and she’ll whip your tuchus with it. I heard she’s mad at her mom Melanie Griffith for not seeing her movie. Listen, if my daughter Melissa were naked and writhing in a movie, I’d just want to know two things—did you wax, and how much did they pay you?

One of my big disappointments of the night was Lady Gaga. Gaga, can we talk? What happened to the plastic bubbles and meat dresses? I get it, Gaga, you were trying to show your parents those thousands of dollars they spent on tuition at NYU before you dropped out means you can at least sing one fancy theater song, but the slicked-back "Evita" hair and the sparkly white gown were ugh ugh ugh. Thank GOD you at least did me the favor of wearing those red rubber dishwashing gloves—I know a diner over on Tenth Avenue that’s hiring!

Another worst of the night for me: Naomi Watts. That silver brick pattern on her dress looked like the backsplash in a tacky New Jersey kitchen, and if that’s not bad enough, she’s got a sparkly black tube top under it that was last seen on a flat-chested 13-year-old at a bat mitzvah disco party in 1982. Please! Why is this blond shiksa goddess trying to dress like a cross between one of the Sopranos and Stacey Levine from Long Island?

Now I’ve gotta talk about Patricia Arquette. Everyone’s saying, “Ooh, ooh, Patty’s so brave, she didn’t have any work done for 12 years so you could see her getting older in 'Boyhood,' but you know what, that’s not brave, that’s lazy! Going under the knife every year to nip, tuck, tighten—that is called commitment, people! Give me a goddamn Oscar!! And while we’re talking, Patty, could you at least have combed your hair for the big night? You had enough time to write the words “ecological sanitation” on a piece of paper, you had enough time to spritz on some hairspray!

Speaking of “ecological sanitation,” I’m gone for five goddamn months, and now we have to listen to actresses talking about their craft and their causes on the red carpet? Uch, gag! Bring back the mani cam! Bring back those very important shots of their Christian Louboutins! You know you’re all sitting on the couch at home, nodding your head, saying, “Oh yes, it’s so important to hear what Reese Witherspoon thinks of the situation in the Mideast,” but really, you just want to see if J.Lo’s nipple is going to slip out again!

Because that’s what the Oscars are about, and as long as there are ditzy actresses wearing spangles and beads, I will be up here to talk about it. Mwah, love you all, see you next year on the red carpet!