[Fill out your Oscar ballot.]

First: The typical, lifelong Academy Awards show viewer — a demographic couched somewhere between Lipitor and Synthroid — has lost roughly three weeks of life to the phrase “I would like to thank …”

These viewers deserve to be made whole. They are the people who still watch movies in theaters. They read reviews written by people paid to be film critics. They know who Irving Thalberg was and vaguely who Kevin Hart is. They are even savvy enough to find it refreshing if, say, a makeup artist accepts an Oscar and says: “The truth is, this film was not a total team effort. My work with facial toner is all that saved this project from complete disaster.”

Cool, no?

Moving on.

Traditionally, after saying, “I would like to thank …” Oscar winners mention 10 to 50 names. Unfortunately, American viewers tend to have little awareness of anonymous people. There are at most six documented cases of a Michigander saying, “Oh, she’s repped by Ben Anderson at C.A.A. Now it all makes sense.” Hence, in the unlikely event Emma Stone ever needed help in her career, the No-Thanks Amendment would compel her to thank her agent at the valet stand. Or at the Vanity Fair after-party. Or over the phone months later.

After thanking their professional hangers-on, winners thank spouses, parents and children. In an industry at demonstrable odds with most family values, such gratitude rings hollow and stupefyingly meh. Sure, there are instances when something super fun occurs during these moments — like when Hilary Swank thanked everyone on two coasts except her husband — but such anomalies hardly offset a thousand hours of “All right, enough already.”

Home, or ski home or Martha’s Vineyard home or Malibu home is where the heart is. Families thanked at all four will most likely get over their nationally televised snub.