Wrapping up a week in which Brett Ratner, storyteller, gathered the nation’s children and, like a horny Hans Christian Andersen, regaled with them classic fanciful tales like “The Shrimp And The Munn (Whom I Banged),” "Seven STD Tests For Lindsay Lohan," “Georgie Porgie, Puddin' And Pie, Gave All The Girls Oral Sex And Made Them Cry,” and of course, “The Fag Who Rehearsed Because He Was A Fag,” Brett Ratner has packed up his stool and stepped down from producing next year’s Oscars, bowing to increasing pressure from staid critics who believe such whimsy is a waste of time. Also, kind of churlish and disgusting.
Ratner’s announcement came less than a day after Academy president Tom Sherak said that he’d accepted Ratner’s most recent apology, remaining convinced that those few asinine comments that this time arrived in an unfortunate row would in no way reflect poorly on the standard of class most associate with Brett Ratner—nor on the Ratner-produced Oscars telecast, which would retain the sense of grace and humility that is associated with the awards ceremony but with more tits, maybe. But unfortunately, other members of the Academy disagreed, and eventually Ratner was forced to tell his saddest story—“The Man Who Was Really, Really Sorry, Or, A Dreary Afternoon In A Publicist’s Office”—in the form of the following official statement:
An Open Letter To The Entertainment Industry From Brett Ratner
Dear Colleagues,