For a moment, there were whispers, rumors, and even terrifying possibilities that Megan Markle might grace the Oscars stage as a presenter. But alas, Hollywood has spoken once again: hard pass. 

Instead, The Academy opted for Megan’s friend, Oprah Winfrey. Yes, Auntie O will be handing out golden statues, while Megan will likely be watching from her Montecito mansion, perhaps refreshing her inbox in case a last-minute invite was accidentally misplaced.  

One can only wonder if Megan will now beg Oprah to let her tag along as a plus-one. After all, this is a woman who might name her child “Oscar” if it meant scoring a seat at the ceremony. 

Megan has never been anywhere near the Oscars—not even Elton John’s famous afterparty extended an invitation, and he invites practically everyone with a pulse. If she couldn’t swing a gig at the Academy Awards back when she had a sliver of *Suits* relevance, what made her think this was her year?  

Why would The Academy hand her a microphone? What exactly would she present? Best Performance in a Publicity Stunt? Outstanding Achievement in Victimhood? Hollywood’s tolerance for Megan’s PR antics seems to have worn thinner than one of her overused wigs.  

The juiciest part? According to Lady C, Megan reportedly pitched a bizarre plan to hijack the Oscars stage with a heartfelt announcement about the tragic Los Angeles wildfires—complete with a personal touch, of course. Because nothing screams “honoring victims” quite like a Markle monologue featuring clips from her upcoming documentary. 

Alas, even Netflix—the company that has essentially become the Megan and Harry money pit—allegedly shut that idea down. That’s right, the same Netflix that greenlights almost anything said no to Megan Markle. When Netflix doesn’t want you speaking, you know you’ve officially overplayed your hand.  

Why does Megan think she belongs on that stage in the first place? Her acting career peaked as the girl who held the briefcase on *Deal or No Deal*. If The Academy suddenly starts handing out awards for Best Performance in a Royal Exit, then maybe she’d have a shot. 

Even Oprah, despite her recent PR disasters (hello, Hawaii land grab), still carries enough weight in Hollywood to score an invite. Megan, on the other hand, is a masterclass in being “Almost Famous”—just close enough to taste the A-list but never actually part of it.  

The real tragedy here is Megan’s eternal struggle to crack Hollywood’s inner circle. She grew up on the outskirts of the industry, thanks to her dad, dated a producer for years, and then married a prince. 

And yet… crickets. No major roles, no genuine A-list friendships—just a parade of self-inflicted PR disasters. Every time her name pops up in the news, the world collectively sighs, “Oh, her again.” The Megan fatigue is real, and Hollywood seems just as exhausted as the rest of us.  

Of course, Megan isn’t one to go down without a fight. The red carpet has always been her natural habitat. Could she crash the pre-show, turning up in some overly dramatic dress, grinning ear-to-ear, pretending she belongs? Wouldn’t put it past her. Or maybe she’ll hover on the sidelines, hoping someone—anyone—acknowledges her presence.  

One thing’s for certain: she won’t be presenting. Hollywood has made its stance clear.  

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