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.