The Oscar, the ultimate award of Hollywood, haunted the dreams of industry giants like Spielberg and George Lucas.
Even Daniel Day Lewis, possessed with obsession, was willing to settle in Los Angeles for two years, spending an entire year doing public relations for it.
Leonardo, ever so suave and rebellious, ran the race year after year.
"Can we not talk about running the race?" Seated in the second row, Leonardo whispered to Martin while the camera panned away and the big screen played commercials, "I send you a wish."
Nicholson unveiled the truth, "Quick, plug your ears, Leo's surely casting a curse."
The Trio of Scoundrels always swung left and right internally, nothing but opportunistic petty figures.
Martin didn't care, "Leo, if you dare to send it, I dare to receive it."
Leonardo said, "I wish that starting from this year, you run the Oscar race for ten years."
