Gridiron Dinner. Old white guys in formal white tie as they stroll through the lobby of a tacky D.C. hotel. Short stubby geezers dragging their tails on the floor. Navigating luggage racks and tourists from Ohio. Silly. And. The elderly women with flabby arms and necks. Haven’t you heard me yet? If you are over a certain age. Long sleeves and collars please! Taking the escalator down to the basement conference room for skits and hilarity. High school prom-y.
Later on SNL. Alec Baldwin had some great lines. But. From what I read. Trump had good joke writers himself. “Who will be the next to leave? Miller or Melania?”
Then tonight. The Oscars. #MeToo replete with plunging skin and slits. Twirling for the cameras. Ridiculous. Who will snub Ryan first?
Global warming? Balmy February in New York. Rowboats on the Lake.
Bannon’s economic nationalism. Dismantling administrative state. Trump golfing with Els and McIlroy. The new abnormal.
Books are still normal. Just finished a good one. The Honeymoon, Dinitia Smith. A novel about literary icon George Eliot’s life and last honeymoon. Which was a doozy. See review here. Oscars. Ho-hum. This year.
Chris slayed it. Right balance and tone. Most of all cynically funny. He was the one to pull it off. Why are there separate awards for gender?!
Winner of the night. Tracy Morgan. Danish Girl. Class act and dress. Jennifer Garner. Surprise upset. Wonderful Mark Rylance. Best voice. Lady Gaga. Poignant pause.
Mad Max must be good. Could never see Revenant nor Room. Couldn’t get through the book. Spotlight. Yo!!!!!! The obnoxscar goes to too many commercials and a dreadfully paced show.
The sugar maples are running. Dark amber flow.
Just as we have a new dynamic duo. Tweedle Don. And. Tweedle Christie. Lots of sappy soundbites. Hillary wants love and kindness. Nice. Bernie’s run was good while it lasted. Lost its glow.
Oscars show. Can Chris Rock the house? Brooklyn syrupy. Bridge of Spies. Stellar. Rylance and Hanks. Gorgeous attention to detail. Marmalade moment. What The Big Short was not. Still fave Spotlight. Ruffalo.
Oscars. Red Carpet. Publicists dressed like handlers at the Westminster Dog Show. Leading their pets around the ring. Not as many actors navigated the gauntlet this year. ABC didn’t ask who-are-you-wearing questions. E! gets sillier every year. Hope they’ll disappear. Neil Patrick Harris. Runner-up. Not as great as expected. Lady Gaga stole the night with her Sound of Music score. Hollywood’s narcissism reigned in the end with Birdman.
Switched to Downton. Perfect time to fast-forward back at the Academy Bores.
Build a fire and forget the cold and snow. Make a winter version of the classic Veal Oscar with asparagus and crab or lobster meat. Sip Sancerre with it and enjoy the red carpet and the show. Hope a new trend continues where actors refuse to answer questions about bling and couture rather than their craft and accomplishments. Has anyone seen the nominated films? Heard one good review of Boyhood and Patricia Arquette. All unappealing, depressing themes. For me. So. No. Haven’t watched a one. Except still waiting for Gone Girl to rent.
House of Cards starts next Friday. That’s something to celebrate. Bon weekend.
Red Carpet. Nasty-faced publicists barking orders. Narcissists on narcotics. Practiced plastic smiles. Hands on hips. Silly.
The Show. On Quaaludes. Over-produced. Under-executed. Pacing halting. Ellen even. Presenters stilted. Selfies on steroids. Rare displays of class. Jolie-Pitt. Best dresses. Charlize Theron. Amy Adams. Pink can sing. Bette not.
Shoulda watched Girls and True Detective.