Like Prometheus, I stole fire from the Gods and gave it to man. For the last eighty years, I have been anguished by this decision. Am I responsible for how the atomic bomb was used? Did I begin a chain reaction that will precipitate Armageddon? Have I become death, destroyer of worlds? These questions weigh on me constantly.

So, come the Academy Awards, I have arrived at the conclusion that I will forget all that nonsense for the night and party my ass off.

My obsession with quantum physics drove me to the brink of madness, but now that I’m a part of “Hollywood’s Biggest Night,” you best believe Oppy is going fully cray-cray. For real. My laboratory assistants and I will be rolling onto the red carpet twenty-physicists deep.

And don’t expect to see my fugly porkpie hat and tan suit. I’m trading those in for tight leather pants and a backless, cherry-red top. (Thank you, Haider Ackermann.)

I’m tired of being the cold, ponderous soul of science. That’s why the only questions I’ll be fathoming outside the Dolby Theater will be asked by Mario Lopez. And I doubt he’ll ask me to predict the coordinates of a nucleus of the benzene molecule. Love you, Mario.

I don’t know where they will seat me during the ceremony, but let’s just say I’m brushing up on my A-list small talk. Uh, yah. I’m gonna be talking up those celebs. I’m obsessed with stars, and not just because I harnessed the power of the sun.

I wonder if Taylor Swift will be there. I think we’d hit it off. We have a lot in common: We were both on the cover of Time, we’ve both motivated congressional investigations, and we both were the stars of hit movies in 2023. I don’t know if she’s also been involved in a top-secret weapons project for the Department of Defense, but it honestly wouldn’t surprise me.

My life in quantum physics has been dedicated to predicting the unpredictable. But even I can’t guess what nonsense I’m going to get into at that Vanity Fair after party. In fact, I’m working on a new theory: By the end of the night, I’m going to be drunker than I’ve ever been before—and I lived through the 1950s. You don’t need a Nobel-winning chemist on your team to know what six crantinis can do to a controversial nuclear scientist who came to get lit.

You all want me to study reactions? Fine, I’ll be studying everyone’s reaction after I down my seventh “Manhattan” project, climb on a table, and moon Paul Giamatti.

So watch out, Oscars. I’m going to party like there’s no tomorrow, because, thanks to me, there might not be one.