I'd add audience participation and embarrassment. There's nothing more fun to watch than people squirming in their seats.
It'd be a one-hour show, and there'd be a hatch that opens up in the floor. If you can't be funny within five seconds, you're gone.
I'd change the name of the Oscars to the Dog[bleep]s. That way, when they announce the winner they'll say, "And the Dog[bleep] goes to ..." and hilarity will ensue.
I'd have a seven-drink minimum for all nominees. And everyone who isn't nominated or has never been nominated has to wear bright orange, like an inmate. I want to see [one of the women] from Desperate Housewives, who shouldn't even be there, in a fluorescent Carolina Herrera.
THE MORNING AFTER I WON MY OSCAR ...
My mother and I lay in bed surrounded by flowers. Then we crossed our arms on our chests, pretending to be dead since it was like a mortuary.—EMMA THOMPSON, of her 1993 Best Actress win for Howards End
I slept in. Then I went to lunch with my parents, and the restaurant gave us a standing ovation.—ADRIEN BRODY, of his 2003 Best Actor win for The Pianist
You don't do anything but answer the phone. I woke up early in the morning and just about every friend I have called. Then there's the people at your agency—and they all say, "I knew it!"—MORGAN FREEMAN, of his 2005 Best Supporting Actor win for Million Dollar Baby