Will-ing to move on?

You may disagree with me. Many do. My editors barely agree with me. But this is my space so, to concur or not to concur — that is the question. Here’s the answer:

Let the Oscars stop self-flagellating already. Today’s world is a universe of agitation. Eastern Europe, Washington, DC, floods, fires, hurricanes, earthquakes, Hunter Biden, no patriotism, no respect, no toilet paper.

Being human beings not Academy Award execs, we know Will Smith has to live with his stupidity forever. Becoming a forever card-carrying dumb ass is enough already. So what? Haven’t we all done some hideously stupid awful thing we’re ashamed of? That we regret? And can never take back?

Meanwhile, Chris Rock’s cheek got healed and his A-1 career’s zooming higher than Blue Origin.

The Oscars have had other 4F jerks. Sacheen Littlefeather accepting Brando’s Oscar, Travolta not knowing the singer’s name, David Niven on camera as a naked guy runs by, Warren Beatty doing whateverthehell he did a few years ago and on and on. And now those insect brains are already having meetings about 2023.

Besides more crappy films we didn’t see and emcees we don’t crave, they’re demanding diversity. Not great quality films. Not even civilization’s greatest actors. Just more types like maybe that Gulliver of talent Pete Davidson.

And they’re hot to include countries where English is a foreign language, nations that have trees but no TVs and spotlighting some indigenous disease that even Fauci can’t eff over — like seniors from Madagascar who suffer dry cuticles.

Look, Will Smith, A-1 actor, raised a fine family, beautiful wife. Whatever his personal or marital difficulties, he has to live with them. We don’t.

Neither do TV viewers who now love the Academy Awards as heartily as they adore that natural-color redhead who parades as Biden’s interpreter — psock-it-to-me-Psaki.

Family sacrifices

Sveta, 64 Carmine St., restaurant, a West Village spot, flies Ukrainian flags. Inside, while her family suffers devastation, Svetlana Savchitz cries.

Sveta’s two sisters, dogs, cats and 12 relatives are surviving in one tiny house in a small village. To feed people and pets, a sister went to Kharkiv to trade goods for food. Scary. Explosions and dead bodies everywhere.

Having emigrated here, Sveta opened in Queens. The rent raised. Her restaurant closed. The staff loyal despite shrunken pay. Now, downtown, her son created a trendy to-go frozen drink idea in a plastic pouch and fur coats provided for outdoor seating. The restaurant has flowers, tchotchkes. The food’s A-1. The prices reasonable. If you go, leave some borscht and chicken Kiev for me.

Skype, which won’t always work, is how Sveta communicates with her family.

Behind the music

So we had the Grammys. More singers coming: Mariah Carey, Annie Lennox and Mickey Stevenson to be honored June 16, Marriott Marquis. Songwriters Hall of Fame Awards.

Stevenson began with Motown’s Berry Gordy, the Supremes, Marvin Gaye, the Temptations, Four Tops and Stevie Wonder. In 2020, Whoopi introduced his song “I Can’t Breathe.” His coming musical on women of color is “Sang Sista’ Sang” about Billie Holiday, Dinah Washington, Dorothy Dandridge, Josephine Baker, Mahalia Jackson, Eartha Kitt, Lena Horne.

So it’s been said: “God gave you the gift. Mickey makes you do your best.” Smokey Robinson calls him “A street cat wheeler-dealer.”

Putin alone could have the biggest zoo in the world. All anyone has to do is build a fence around him.

Said everywhere and not only in New York, kids, not only in New York.