I loved the gory deaths, I loved the twists and the near-miss fakeouts, and I loved Ali Larter’s Clear Rivers in a way my deeply closeted brain couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Ruth lifts her head, smiles demure and sweet, her lips swollen with kissing. ‘Can’t miss a chance to minister to a heathen like you, Idgie.'”

Pull up a chair, pour yourself a whiskey, and let’s talk about the whitest Oscars in decades.