Morning Piss: If Killing Hitler Isn't Best Picture Material, What Is?

Quentin Tarantino's crowning achievement, Inglourious Basterds, gets overshadowed by Avatar schlock

I realize Robert Pattinson's relationship with vaginas is far more newsworthy right now, but I'm getting creeped out by something even weirder: James Cameron's overshadowing of Quentin Tarantino.

It's almost as upsetting as the fact that folks are taking Rob's obviously jokey vaginal comments as being for real.

Point is, with Basterds, Tarantino has reached a pinnacle in his often irreverent and typically not taken seriously film career. He can be dismissed as an assembler of quirky film homage, quite unlike the billion-dollar-box-office genius that is James Cameron. Jackie Brown Vs. Titantic? Oh, please!

And certainly this year's Oscar odds are proving Cameron's winning the race—yet again. It's all about Avatar (with some very possible healthy competition from Hurt Locker director and DGA winner Kathryn Bigelow). But where the hell is Tarantino in all this?

Overshadowed, per usual, by a derivative, glitzy gizmomeister. Cameron's brilliant at 3-D movie rides and shows, no doubt, but I'll take a highly original (not to mention poignantly gripping) retelling of the Holocaust where Hitler's vengefully and deliciously executed any day.