May the Dolby Theatre stage rise to meet you,
May your fellow nominees be gracious but quietly seething.
May the house lights shine warm upon your best angles,
The playoff music fall soft upon your overlong speech.
And until we Q&A again,
May you hold the statuette in the palm of your laser-resurfaced hand.

May strategists be with you and bless you,
May you see your children’s children become nepo babies.
May you be poor in exclusivity clauses,
rich in swag bag goodies.
May you know nothing but adulation from this day forward
Until you’re the anchor spot for the In Memoriam segment.

May your campaign be scandal-free.
May the “Best Dressed” list always bear your name.
May the warm rays of masterful and raw fall upon you,
And may the land of tax havens always be near.

May red be the carpet you walk on,
May universal be the acclaim you receive,
May imperceptible be the work of your surgeon,
May nanoscopic be the statement pin upon your tux.

May your press junkets bring joy
And your guild receptions bring peace.
May your negative coverage grow less
As your endorsement offers increase.

May you have all the EP credits
And late-autumn releases that life can hold
And at the end of all your winters,
May you find a bald man of gold.
May your villa’s security
always be strong,
May you be in Heaven a half hour
before you’re financially compelled to join Cameo.