Monday, February 26, 2007

What a Night!!!

Oscars over. Whatever. Good for Martin Scorsese, good for Alan Arkin, Jennifer Hudson's career is on 14:58...and begin. (Don't blame me, it's the curse.)

Look, I'm sure we can all agree that Pilobolus is an artistic amalgamation of the highest water, but seriously. What the hell? This is why the Oscars run long every year. The producers, or the Academy, or ABC, or all of these out-of-touch bastards, seem to think the watching public wants some sort of cheesy, and I mean cheesy, entertainmaent quotient to go with the bling and the gowns and he hot guys in their bedhead. But is there a codicil in the Oscar bylawas or something that states they have to employ a certain amount of dancers ro extras for this one night? Evry year they manage to totally fuck up the "live entertainment" portion of the program, because not only are all the best song nominees the type of David Foster-Diane Warren bullshit Celine Dion got famous singing, but the dancing is always attached to something unbelievably stupid, like the Rob Lowe/Snow White thing in 1989, or the Costume Design thing the next year (thanks, Debbie Allen!) or even managing to co-opt and render impotent a treasure like Savion Glover, or Pilobolus last night. Look! Pilobolus make shoe!

Cut the extraneous dance bullshit, the show would be 20 minutes shorter. Also, put ALL the nominees down on the main floor, and that would take five minutes off right there. The Pan's Labyrinth people were all up in the secon section of the main floor, and God knows they won a lot, so why can't they give the real honest-to-Christ nominees better seats? And in that case, shouldn't somebody's ego take a fucking hit for a night? Like some dickhead producer who didn't get any nominations? Or a publicist or agent whose clients are either non-nominees or Jessica Simpson? Let these fuckers and their egos sit in the back for a change.

I forgot. It's Hollywood.

I suppose ABC doesn't complain about the show runnng long, not with all the ad dollars they pull in, and they win the night every year anyway, I'd guess. Maybe it's just the print media, who are on deadline, and the great unwashed who complain.

And fianlly, I must strut. Nobody listened to me about Eddie Murphy. It's the Norbit Curse, sez I!

Wednesday, February 21, 2007


Yes, 40-year-old men still get them. Permit me to drool over two of them. Both over age, so hush, Goddammit.


The Talent Crush. Ms. Ebersole, not only gorgeous (and it's her birthday today!) and a sexy, sexy middle-aged woman, is also the possessor of the finest voice in all the realm as of these days. (Barbara Cook, OK maybe. But still. Look at Christine. So hot!) And in a few months time, she's going to be back at them there Tonys, picking one up for her Promethean performance in Grey Gardens. Playing mama Beale in first act, daughter Beale in second, getting huge laughs dressed like God knows what, doing "The Revolutionary Costume for Today."

Then, she drops the hammer and blows the room away with "Another Winter in a Summer Town," based on the most moving moment in the documentary on which the show is based, when Little Edie is alone with the camera and says that if she doesn't get away from the Hamptons and her dilapidated mansion before winter sets on, she won't be able to take it anymore. Get thee to iTunes or whatever proprietary software thou posesseth and download it now. Then begin constructing your shrine to the de-lovely Christine Ebersole. Then, when you come back, I'll tell you about sweet Caroline.


The Dreamy Crush. Ever since I saw her in a little nothing Canadian Showtime movie about swimmer Marilyn Bell, rocking a pixie cut and smiling like mmmmmmmmmmmooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnn sorry. Ahem. That's Caroline Dhavernas. Not well known in the US (she's French Canadian, speaks both languages fluently ahh French mmmmmmmmmmmooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnn)sorry. Anyway, best known for the underrated "Wonderfalls." Go rent it. Or buy it. Or see her and her pretty, pretty hair in Breach. She's like a more mature Katie Holmes with some life left in her eyes.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

To Drive the Cold Winter Away

Man, it's winter like a mofo in Chicago. It's not cute like 11 feet of snow in Oswego, NY-although I lived that nightmare twice as a kid and "cute" isn't the right word, though the dickheads in the national media would have you point and laugh like Oswego is in a shake-up snowglobe. Here it's just been alternately as cold as a snowman's dick, like it was last week, or miserably snowy and blizzardish, like today. I prefer the snow to the cold, because at least when it snows it's not as cold and you don't have to wear seven layers of clothes just to get to a Goddamned train.

Also, another reason I love my hometown:Chicago has the best snow removal in the world. By 8:00 this morning the Loop streets were clear and clean as a whistle. Amazing. The streets in Rogers Park were even pretty clear. (Snow removal issues changed the history of this city. Jane Byrne was elected mayor based mainly on the fact that during the blizzard of '78 the snow removal situation in Chicago was terrible. She ran against incumbent Michael Bilandic in the primary and said "Elect me and I'll fix it." They did, and she did.) It was easier to walk in the street than on the untouched sidewalks (thanks, douchebag neighbors!) so I trudged in the street instead. Wearing a layer extra and the winter boots in the driving snow makes a three-block walk seem like seven miles, yo. But it's a pretty good leg workout. I have to venture out again tonight to record Teapot Scandals for future consumption, in Andersonville. Not too far from home. Hopefully I'll be able to bus-and-train it instead of having to walk that figurative seven miles. I'd much rather sit at home and just wear the cat on my head. That way he's warm and I'm warm.