Tonight, the 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards took place. These kind of shows are painful. Most of the movies I’ve never seen, and the back-patting and oozing self-congratulation get unbearable.

But let’s look at the Golden Globe red carpet arrival through a different, highly superficial lens. Does it not look as if the photographer messed with these pictures? As in, these actors and actresses have gigantic heads and tiny bodies? Like Anne Hathaway. Please get yourself a samwich, now:

Anne Hathaway at the 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards

Or Dev Patel, what the heck happened to make your cranium look oversized:

Dev Patel at the 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards

Julie Bowen and Ty Burrell, you guys look like cartoon characters:

Julie Bowen and Ty Burrell, 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards

So do Jesse Tyler Ferguson and Sarah Hyland:

Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Sarah Hyland, 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards

Lena Dunham, after all the “your first time” tom-foolery you pulled at the election, I actually feel sorry for you. Now fire whoever convinced you to wear the dining-room drapes:

Lena Dunham at the 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards

Once again, the perspective on this picture looks off. Maybe Helen McCrory and Damian Lewis just need to eat normally. Like, why not grab dinner with Lena above?

Helen McCrory and Damian Lewis, Golden Globe Awards

I sold suits in college. It was good money, one of a half-dozen jobs I had. And rule number one, avoid a puckered lapel on a tuxedo. You would think George Clooney would know:

George Clooney and Stacy Keibler, Golden Globe Awards

 A proper lapel as worn by Mark Wahlberg and Sean Combs:

Mark Wahlberg and Sean Combs at the 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards

There you have it, the 70th Annual Golden Globe Awards, not quite live from the Beverly Hilton. The last time I was there, I too, was in a tuxedo. One with tails even. Of course, it was my high school prom. I was 6’4, 170 pounds soaking wet then. And the tails made me taller and skinnier. Maybe I still I have not gotten over it, considering my comments here. Ah blogs, they are cathartic. Now where are my stone-washed jeans?