Two Hypothetical Questions

1) It's 2046, and Ben Affleck gets a sympathy Best Supporting Actor nomination for playing someone's alcoholic, unsupportive dad ("Ben Affleck was just utterly heartbreaking in I Was An Accident") or a terminal Alzheimer's case ("Affleck will bring you to tears in Unforgettable") or something similar.  He has not yet won an acting Oscar, though he still has his share of the Good Will Hunting screenplay Oscar.

Question: if his publicist trots out the "well, he never got an Oscar for acting" argument as ammunition against younger, more-deserving actors, do I get to stand up from my wheelchair, yank out my old-man catheter, and hit Affleck in the face with it?

2) The bird flu epidemic pandemic reaches America, and according to the new curfew laws you are not allowed to leave your home.  I have been stuck in my home for three weeks, and my food has almost run out, save for a single pound of pasta.  The government, for health reasons, has shut down my running water temporarily, and I've used the last of my bottled water.  My taps won't work for another few days, and the only remaining water in the house is in the toilet bowl.

Question: do I make pasta?