Am I the only one who gets confused by the lack of uniformity when it comes to the star rating system?
Hotels and Generals somehow always get thrown in to the same five star hump, after which I am more clueless than Liberace in a strip club. I know enough about stars to get me Facebooked, but not nearly enough to get me sworn in as Chief Justice of Star Ratings. (I’m pretty sure we don’t have one of those . . . yet).
I’m relatively certain that three stars is exceptional if you’re talking four possible stars. And it’s okay if you’re talking five. It’s an insult if you’re talking ten stars, though. Thing is, lots of people are grading on the ten star system of doing business. Which, as far as I’m concerned is polluting the pool. These peeps have aligned it with that old conversational convenience of yore and mine- the scale of 1-10. Never mind the fact that scales and stars are two wholly different matters. Okay, ‘cepting for Bo Derek.
Someone asked me recently how many stars I gave the Kings Speech. To which I replied, politely I might add, “How many stars are you talking?” To which I was greeted with a look of abject horror, as if I were privy to her star rating system. As if I should have considered her record on the subject before commencing with whatever small talk we happened to be forging into iron and wine. As if I were Jason Bourne, or Bill Bellichick- same diff.
“Five stars” She answered curtly.
“Isn’t that the rating system for hotels?” I asked, after which she excused herself to use the ladies room- the one at her place I’m guessing. Proof positive that an innocent question is a relative term. Sue me for being a slave to conformity (in this one instance), but I don’t think you should have Kings Speech swimming in the same rating system pool with the Four Seasons Hotel. Movies and hotels don’t belong together. Just ask Paris Hilton.
This whole ratings system has gotten more complicated than Vanilla Sky. Believe me when I tell you I know it. Hell, a friend of mine rates things on three stars. It’s such an abrupt departure from the status quo (read: mine) that we have banned him from picking movies or restaurants ever again. He gets to pick the bars, since his diminutive rating system oftentimes works quite well when it comes to drink specials.
I’d love for Oscar Wilde to be living this age with me. We could knockabout to classic rock and bitch to the sushi rolls and opine to the guttural magnificence of the stars gone blank. Alighted by dreams and a couple such vodka shots. Now, that would be some ten star shit.