As the 49th annual Grammy Awards fade into memory, some musings about the ceremony just completed:
* I purposely make an effort to avoid the political on this blog, but when you see the Dixie Chicks go five-for-five at last night's awards show, including the big three (album, record and song), you have to conclude a message was being sent. Not ready to make nice, indeed.
* By the way, the Chicks also won for best country album - quite an achievement considering they aren't supposed to be country anymore, right?
* Someone tone down Quentin Tarantino's drugs, please? (Or at least share.) My God, I think he blew out Tony Bennett's eardrums.
* My female friends went gaga over Sting's arms as The Police performed "Roxanne," and I really didn't get the hoo-ha - until Shakira came out and did "Hips Don't Lie," and proceeded to show that, nope, hips do not lie. OK, girls, now I get the Sting thing.
* Seriously, I almost started sobbing during the James Brown mini-tribute. Did we really need the live simulation of the Godfather's dance moves, though?
* Speaking of Mr. Brown - Christina Aguliera, whoa. Proof positive of the difference between her and Britney Spears. Mainly, Ms. Aguilera is a singer.
* VERY classy of Prince to buy ad time to thank the fans for his Super Bowl appearance, silhouetted devil cock notwithstanding.
* OK, Ludacris, we get it - you don't like Oprah. Well, get over it. Oprah could probably have you killed if she wanted, you know. She's done it before.
* Just be glad that Helen Mirren didn't record an album this past year - otherwise, it may have been a much different night.