The Nobel Prizes were announced last week, and instead of downing flutes of Champaign, putting on their “I won the f@#$ing Nobel Prize” t-shirts and going clubbing like they should have done, the winners almost unanimously responded by being ungrateful, whiny pissants.

First off, Doris Lessing, who won the Prize in Literature for her work “subjecting a divided civilization to scrutiny.” And how did she respond when reporters made her aware of that fact? No, not by flashing her ponderous, seventy-year-old boobs and shouting “Powned!” as one would expect, but by bitching that she hadn’t gotten it sooner:

“Look I have won all the prizes in Europe, every bloody one. I’m delighted to win them all, okay?” she responded testily.

As an afterthought she turned around and mumbled:

“It’s a royal flush.”

Oh, is it, you entitled wench? Because unless my research is sorely mistaken, you haven’t won the World Beard and Mustache Championship, held biennially throughout Europe. You know how I know? Because THIS guy won it:

And I bet he didn’t shove it back in the committee’s faces either. I’ll bet he had bikini models doing shots out of those little beard-wells within fifteen minutes of winning. So accept the prize graciously and go get a vanity plate.

Even Al Gore acted like a pussy on game night. Instead of doing a touchdown dance at the podium and pumping his fist in celebration, he accepted the award “on behalf of all the people that have been working so long and so hard to try to get the message out about this planetary emergency.”

Do you know how many freakin’ people that is? According to his own website, millions of people have signed the pledge to fight Climate Change. Millions? The Nobel Prize is $1.5 million. Throw in the price of the medal itself (about ten bucks on Ebay) and divide by two million, and you’ve got jack shit. The question isn’t whether Gore’s going to run for President; it’s whether he’d abdicate immediately upon being elected.

Whatever happened to a sense of celebration? After all, it’s what gives the award its meaning in the first place. The reason it feels great to win something is because so many people had to NOT win it in order for YOU to win. I’m all for false modesty, but come on: when you get handed a Nobel Prize, it’s time to take a victory strut.

Thinking about it makes me so angry, the only thing that can calm me down are some more pictures from the gallery of Beard and Mustache Champions.

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