Oscar predictions: Milkshakes, hamburger phones and your mama!

Yeah, it's finally here - though by "finally here," I mean that this year the Academy Awards snuck up on us like a feral can silently stalking a wild chunk of abandoned Big Mac meat. Because the world has been stuffed with so much news and flotsam in the early weeks of the year - not to mention the writers' strike that threatened to scuttle the Oscars entirely - the usual buildup to Hollywood's Biggest Night™ has been, if not muted, definitely truncated to within an inch of its vacuous life. Then again, it's only the awards that matter, right? (Well, no. There also are the fashions and the parties. But since rain in the forecast might put a chilling damper on the glamour and half the parties in town have been canceled, we'll just have to rely on the actual dispersal of golden guys. Sorry.)

So, per usual, here are my predictions for who and what will win the major awards on Sunday night. There's the combination of locks and tight races, some of which have become competitive only in the past couple of weeks. And the tightest by far is the first one I'll cover. So let us read along, shall we?

Supporting Actress
Cate Blanchett, I'm Not There
Ruby Dee, American Gangster
Saoirse Ronan, Atonement
Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone
Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton

Over the years, the supporting actress category has been by far the most problematic of the major awards in terms of guessing what the hell is going to happen. It's the place where the likes of Marisa Tomei, Anna Paquin and Juliette Binoche have come from nowhere to add the phrase "Oscar winner" to the front of their names. Even in years where the solid favorites end up winning - say, Jennifer Hudson from last year - their victories often aren't assured until the envelope is opened. And this year? Sheer chaos, that's all. The only one of the five nominees who has pretty much no chance to win is Ronan - even though she could justifiably be called the trigger of Atonement, the catalyst who sets all of the tragic events in motion, she's only 13, and rarely has a young performer overcome that "hurdle" to go all the way. All of the remaining candidates have things going for them. Blanchett is a perennial Academy favorite and has two nominations this year, and more often than not actors who get double nominated end up walking away with one of their two potential Oscars. Plus she had maybe the toughest job of the nominees here - playing a man, and a man based on Bob Dylan to boot. Amy Ryan, the early favorite, gives a powerhouse performance as the world's worst mother, and yet you care about her anyway. Swinton is quite good in Michael Clayton as a lawyer who goes far beyond the limits of her counsel in the service of her clients. And then there's 83-year-old Ruby Dee, a sentimental favorite with a career of almost 70 years behind her, and her first Oscar nomination facing her. She pulls the rare feat of stealing a scene from screen son Denzel Washington in Gangster, but her screen time clocks in at only five minutes. Not only would she be the oldest person ever to win an acting Oscar, but it would be for the shortest performance ever. (Though not by much - Beatrice Straight was on the screen for only a few seconds long when she won for supporting actress for Network in 1976.)

So who will win? I think it's going to Swinton, not only because of her importance to the framework of Clayton, but also because of it's clear the Academy loves this film (seven nominations, after all) and this may be the best chance to honor it with actual hardware. But it could really go any other way. Ryan probably deserves it most, and I wouldn't be surprised or dismayed to see her, Dee or Blanchett walk down the aisle and up the stairs. Though Blanchett may need a little help, as she is is very, very pregnant.

In short, this is the category I expect to cock up, so don't shoot me if I do. OK, maybe just a little.

Will Win: Tilda Swinton
Should Win: Amy Ryan
Upset Special: Ruby Dee


Supporting Actor
Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson's War
Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild
Tom Wilkinson, Michael Clayton

From total uncertainty to absolutely none. This is the one total lock of the night - "chalk," as they say when it comes to the NCAA basketball tournament. From the moment Javier Bardem first emerged from the shadows in No Country for Old Man as Anton Chigurh, the unstoppable killer with the air gun and the pageboy haircut, this race was over. It's one of the those years when you feel bad for the other nominees, because any other year, they may have been strong favorites going in. Hoffman's flamboyant turn as a CIA operative in Charlie Wilson's War particularly resonated me with, a hilarious and probative performance that only deepened his range as a character actor. But Bardem has created one of the scariest villains of modern times, a figure of total malevolence. Chigurh stays with you long after the movie is over, and that's the most you can ask for from an actor. Bardem wins - lay bets on how long his speech will be for some suspense.

Will Win: Javier Bardem
Should Win: Javier Bardem
Upset Special: None

Actress
Cate Blanchett, Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Julie Christie, Away from Her
Marion Cotillard, La Vie en Rose
Laura Linney, The Savages
Ellen Page, Juno

Here's another example of a longtime favorite whose certainty of winning has tightened considerably. Most everyone thought that this was Julie Christie's to lose. Sure, her film wasn't widely seen, but those who had seen the earnest Canadian-made drama couldn't say enough about Christie's performance as an elegant woman dealing with her Alzheimer's diagnosis and how the devastating news affects her life and that of her beloved husband. It had all the earmarks of an Academy win: a popular veteran actor delivering as a character laid low by illness, willing to get "ugly" for the sake of the art - even if that mean adding a few extra wrinkles to the still-beautiful 66-year-old, one of the few times in movie history that a person had to be aged upward to play someone younger than she actually is. And if Christie win, she will set Oscar history for the longest gap between wins for an actor. That would be 42 years, boys or girls - or, as I wrote in an earlier post, a longer time than three of Christie's fellow nominees has been alive. So, as strong as the other women are in this category, it was a done deal - darling Julie Christie was going to win ...

... And I think she still is going to win, but now it's far from a done deal. Momentum has been building behind Cotillard, the petite French actor who so embodied the lifeforce of her fellow countrywoman, Edith Piaf. (Another oddity of the makeup process: Cotillard was made to look about 65 to play the last days of Piaf's life - even though the ravaged chanteuse was only 47 when she passed on. (By the way, La Vie en Rose is nominated for makeup as well.) Cotillard has a Golden Globe, a BAFTA and now a Cesar (that's Oscar in French) to show for her awesome work, and there are those who think she can catch Christie for the final prize. But one problem with that theory is that the film itself isn't that awesome. In fact, it's a bit of nonlinear, sometimes tricky mess. Add to that the fact that very few foreign-language performances win Academy Awards, and Cotillard's chances take another hit.

I think that If anyone upsets Christie, it will be Ellen Page, the 20-year-old face of Juno. There's much love for this quirky comedy, and much of that love is focused on the charming Canuck in the title role. It's likely that Academy voters will look at Page and say, "Soon ... but not this soon." Besides, she hasn't waited as long as Julie Christie.

Will Win: Julie Christie
Should Win: Julie Christie
Upset Special: Ellen Page

Actor
George Clooney, Michael Clayton
Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood
Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Butcher of Fleet Street
Tommy Lee Jones, In the Valley of Elah
Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises

George Clooney is The Man. He's got the looks, the charm, the personality. He gives a damn about his fellow man, often to his own detriment. He has talent and an Oscar to prove as much. And as the title character in Michael Clayton, a flawed "janitor" (his character's own description) who's called upon to clean up the legal messes no one else can, Clooney for the first time truly melds his movie star image with crakerjack acting in the type of role that Redford or Newman or Ford would have tackled 20 years ago. His work in this legal drama - stoic but vulnerable, steady yet desperate - is a sight to see, true Academy Award material. It's too bad he has (almost) no hope of winning this category.

For that, Clooney can thank Daniel Day-Lewis, who had the gall to return from one his many sabbaticals from moviemaking to make There Will Be Blood. His Daniel Plainview is far different from Clooney's Michael Clayton - far fewer admirable qualities, showy and bombastic where Clayton is subtly forceful. But Day-Lewis has a trait that Clooney, through no fault of his own, may never have - the ability to completely melt into his characters. Five minutes into Blood, you forget you're watching an actor act, and that's one of the highest compliments you can give any actor. Yes, it's a scenery-chewing performance, but no one chews the scenery with less effort than Day-Lewis. And the first person to congratulate him likely will be George Clooney.

Will Win: Daniel Day-Lewis
Should Win: Daniel Day-Lewis
Upset Special: George Clooney

Director
Julian Schnabel, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Jason Reitman, Juno
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton
Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, No Country for Old Men
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood

The Coen Brothers can pretty much do no wrong in my eyes. I've liked or loved everyone of their movies - even the ones, like The Hudsucker Proxy, that few other did. And for me, No Country is their masterpiece - a searing meld of film noir and a modern Western with dashes of stark philosophy and subversive comedy. And thanks to its acclaim, Joel and Ethan have a chance to go to a place no other filmmaker has - as four-time Oscar winners for the same movie. Welles never did that, nor Allen, nor John Ford, nor Warren Beatty, nor Steven Spielberg. But the Coens wrote, produced, edited and directed this movie and are nominated for all of those jobs. And in fact, the one category that most likely will derail their quest for Academy Awards immortality is for film editing, where the brothers (under their editing non de plume Roderick Jaynes) face stiff competition from There Will Be Blood, the action thriller The Bourne Ultimatum and the artsy biopic The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Here, for directing, the competition is tough as well - good directors taking difficult material and making it work. If anything, I'd give this Oscar to artist-turned-director Julian Schnabel, who may have had the most difficult material of all. How many of you would like to try to make an entertaining and emotional film about a French writer who suffers a stroke and is left totally paralyzed, save for one eyelid - oh, and his perspective is most of the movie's point of view? Not exactly another historical epic or romantic comedy, eh. But this is one of the Coens' many Oscars they'll be getting Sunday night.

Will Win: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen
Should Win: Julian Schnabel
Upset Special: None

Picture
Atonement
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

Every year, around September or so, many a film critic and fan will start bemoaning the fate of the upcoming Academy Awards: "Where are the Oscar-worthy films?" "What are they doing to nominate for best picture? Transformers?" And then the floodgates open and by January we're wondering how they're going to find enough room for all of the Oscar-worthy films that suddenly are in front of us. In this case, there was no room for The Diving Bell and the Butterfly or American Gangster or Sweeney Todd or even The Bourne Ultimatum. Though they could have made some room by ejecting the one film that doesn't belong here, Atonement, a solid romantic epic but lacking the emotional attachment that elevates some films over the rest.

Of the other four, they're all strong contenders. But No Country for Old Men ranks above the others. It's the most enriching cinematic experience of the five nominees. It enthralls you, it makes you think, it makes you wonder. Sure, it's terribly dark, extremely violent and has a problematic ending. (Or, actually, no ending at all.) But it's also impeccably crafted, like a fine microbrew. (Yeah, hokey line, but you get the point.) And this town loves the Coens and has been itching to heap the hardware onto them for some time now.

There's been talk about which of the other films could sneak up on No Country in the end, with emphasis on the even darker Blood, which has an even more problematic ending; and on industry favorite Michael Clayton, which successfully harkens back to the legal thrillers of the 1970s. But my darkhorse money is on this movie's entry for The Little Movie That Could, Juno. Usually comedy is poison when it comes to collecting Oscars, but this could be one of those years when having a sense of humor could work, as Juno is easily the only one of the five nominees that has anything close to a happy ending. It's a ray of sunshine (pun intended) in a cinematic sky filled with dark, foreboding clouds. What's more, it finds humor in a topic (teen pregnancy) that usually is seen in Afterschool Specials and Lifetime movies. And still, with all of the laughs and the clever lines, Juno still finds depth and perspective in its characters and its settings. Finally, it's the only best picture nominee that's combine critical and financial success, and that carries a loud of clout. The odds are great that this will be No Country's night, but if it ends up belonging to a smartass 16-year-old pregnant kid with a hamburger phone in one hand and an Oscar in another - well, that wouldn't suck, homeskillet.

Will Win: No Country for Old Men
Should Win: No Country for Old Men
Upset Special: Juno

Just for the heck of it, I thought I'd try my luck at some of the other categories - you know, for kids.

Original Screenplay: Diablo Cody, Juno

Adapted Screenplay: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, No Country for Old Men

Animated Feature: Ratatouille (though the stark but inventive Persepolis could surprise)

Cinematography: Robert Elswit, There Will Be Blood (I think No Country is slightly better, but Roger Deakins is nominate for both that and The Assassination of Jesse James, so vote-splitting could ensue.)

Documentary Feature: Michael Moore's Sicko is the easy pick, but I think the Oscar will go to Taxi to the Dark Side, Alex Gibney's look at the death of an innocent Afghan taxi driver at the hands of U.S. interrogators. When it comes to documentaries, the Iraq war and related topics are the new Holocaust.

Length of the show: 3 hours, 35 minutes.

Seriously, what's the dumber idea?

The U.S. government's $60 million plan to shoot down a wayward spy satellite, or the upcoming Smurfs movie?

I'm torn on that one ...

Fun with words!

Did you know how much fun can be had when you add just a few words to an already written news story? For example, see how this New York Times article about the resignation of Fidel Castro (who's dead, of course) can be enhanced:

MEXICO CITY — (The corpse of) Fidel Castro stepped down Tuesday morning as the president of Cuba after a long [period of being dead]. The announcement was made in a letter to the nation written by [Mr. Castro's corpse] and published early Tuesday morning on the Web site of Granma, the official publication of the Cuban Communist Party.

The resignation ends one of the longest tenures as one of the most all-powerful communist heads of state in the world.

In late July 2006, Mr. Castro, [whose corpse] is 81, (died and) handed over power temporarily to his brother, Raúl Castro, 76, and a few younger cabinet ministers, after an acute infection in his colon (killed him) forced him to undergo (the ruse of) emergency surgery. Despite numerous operations, he has [stayed dead] but has remained active in running government affairs from behind the scenes (as much as a dead man can).

Now, just days before the national assembly is to meet to select a new head of state, (the corpse of) Mr. Castro resigned permanently, and signaled his willingness to let a younger generation assume power. He said his [being dead] made it impossible to return as president.

“I will not aspire to neither will I accept — I repeat I will not aspire to neither will I accept — the position of President of the Council of State and Commander in chief,” [Castro's corpse] wrote in the letter.

He added: “It would betray my conscience to occupy a responsibility that requires mobility and the total commitment that I am not in the physical condition to offer (because I'm dead).”

See ... much more entertaining! Though, of course, this makes the eventual official death notice pretty much anticlimatic.

Holy cow, indeed ...

I didn't need any more to feel older than I should be. It was enough to realize that Prince, Madonna and Michael Jackson will all be 50 years old this summer, or that there are "young people" who don't realize that Carrie Underwood didn't originate the performance of the power ballad "Alone" that was first immortalized by Heart in 1987, or that it's been 19 years between Indiana Jones movies. But then, this evening, this realization that imprinted on this Cub fan's soul like a hot branding iron ...

Ten years ago today, Harry Caray passed away.

Yeah, it's been a decade since that blustering old man with the saucer-sized glasses who was the voice and the soul of the Chicago Cubs sipped his last cold Bud and journeyed to the diamond in the sky. He died four days after he collapsed at a restaurant in Palm Springs, California, while celebrating Valentine's Day with his beloved wife Dutchie. For Chicagoans and Cub fans, it was a loss more crushing than any late-inning loss, or than the World Series drought that has become as much a part of the Cub legacy as the ivy-covered walls of Wrigley Field. Indeed, we never truly got over losing Harry, as evidenced by the fact that, 10 years on, the team still employs "guest conductors" to carry on Harry's tradition of singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the seventh-inning stretch. His funeral was carried live on all of the local stations in Chicago, with no less than the archbishop of the city presiding. Cub stars such as Mark Grace and Sammy Sosa interrupted their spring training preparations to serve as honorary pallbearers. The team dedicated their season to Caray's memory - a season which ended with a surprise playoff berth and Sosa smashing 66 home runs in his epic (and now tainted) record duel with Mark McGwire. Would the Cubs have done as well without the weight of Harry's passing on their shoulders? Who knows. But it was a glorious summer, and a sad one as well.


Today there's a postmodern statue of Harry outside of Wrigley Field; one wonder what the man would have thought of the image. Fans still leave their empty (or full) cans of Budweiser at its base as an offering to the baseball gods. The restaurants that bear his name are still among the most popular in the Chicagoland area. And the Cubs, none of whom were on the team when Harry was the team's broadcast voice, gather again in the balmy climes of Arizona to prepare for another campaign, hoping that this will be the year that the squad and its fans finally end their wanderings in the desert that is World Series disappointment. But many of those fans would give anything - expect, maybe, that elusive world championship - to have Harry still with us, in the Wrigley broadcast booth, just to hear what he would do with the name Fukudome.

Happy Valentine's Day, indeed!

What has gotten into the elder stateswomen of Hollywood lately when they appear on morning television? First Diane Keaton drops the F-bomb on Good Morning America ...



And now, this morning, fellow Oscar winner Jane Fonda did Diane one better on the Today show. During an interview regarding The Vagina Monologues, Fonda - a born-again Christian, for those who don't know - uttered the queen mother of George Carlin's seven deadly words, the word that dare not speak its name, the one thing you don't call any woman, no matter what. Let's just that it's too bad Jane didn't make her verbal misstep, say, next Tuesday ...



So what's next - Meryl Streep calling someone a "c***sucker" on The Early Show? I would say that that would get a rise out of someone ... if anyone actually watched The Early Show!

The best day of the year ...

Pitcher and catchers began to report to spring training today. And so it begins ... all over again. :)

Woof! (Which means "I'm going to Disneyland!" in dog)

Somewhere, someplace, Snoopy cries tears of joy. For the first time in the 132-year history of the über-popular Westminster Dog Show, a beagle is the king of the canines. His name is Uno, he's of the 15-inch variety (who knew there were two different types of beagles), and while he fought against the force of history (he was an "underdog" - get it?), the buzz in Madison Square Garden was that he was the pooch to beat this time around. And he was.

Of course, Uno's landmark victory sets the stage for more groundbreaking events as the year goes on. Now watch Barack Obama get elected president and, of course, the Cubs win the World Series. Let's just hope Uno didn't use, er, anything extra to get to the top - you know, like HGH or enhanced kibble. That would be a doggone shame.

Yikes!

Word tonight that Icy-Hot, the pain-relieving treatment that works via a combination of, wait for it, cold and heat, has been recalled. Seems that some of the current batch of the product are light on the icy and heavy on the hot - to the point that more than 200 people who've used it have reported suffering from various degrees of burns, from first to third. Here's hoping that some of those burns aren't affecting the more, er, tender parts of the human physique. I smell a lawsuit - along with the smell of burning flesh.

Can an awards show save a life?

Maybe that's a loaded, even stupid question. But if the look of shock on Amy Winehouse's face as she realized that she had won one of the premier awards of the Grammy broadcast, Record of the Year, is any indication of what may come in the future for this very talented, very troubled soul singer, perhaps it will be a wake-up call of sorts to her of what she is capable of - and of how much there is to live for. Of course, professional accolades pale in comparison to overall quality of life, not to mention the friends and family around us. But considering Winehouse's youth and the promise of what could truly be one of those special musical careers - well, one can hope. It's all up to her now.

Toxic ...

Britney Spears was released from a psychiatric ward today, the second time in a month that her bipolar self was unleashed upon the world earlier than expected. The expected paparazzi flood soon followed, along with a dire statement from Britney's parents, who bemoaned their daughter's early release and feared for her life:

"As parents of an adult child in the throes of a mental health crisis, we were extremely disappointed this morning to learn that over the recommendation of her treating psychiatrist, our daughter Britney was released from the hospital that could best care for her and keep her safe," the statement said.

"We are deeply concerned about our daughter's safety and vulnerability and we believe her life is presently at risk. There are conservatorship orders in place created to protect our daughter that are being blatantly disregarded. We ask only that the court's orders be enforced so that a tragedy may be averted."

As much as it pains me to agree with Jamie and Lynne, I think they may be right on this one. I think that unless someone, somewhere steps in quick to put this woman into involuntary treatment, we're going to be in for a breaking news alert of the most ominous kind, followed by a port-mortem news blitz that will make Heath Ledger and Anna Nicole Smith look like a cat-in-the-tree local interest story.

It's not hard to analyze how we got here. Britney has not been treated well, neither by herself or those around her. That includes her handlers, the paparazzi and, yes, her parents. Like many a child star before and after her, she shows signs of being used up, squeezed of all of the potential she had inside her. But when you add the growing proof that she does have serious mental issues, and we're talking about a walking time bomb. Without proper treatment - without people giving a true damn about her - she's mere months away from being a statistic. Blunt, but probably true.

Rolling Stone has published a cover story about Britney with the headline "Inside an American Tragedy." Obviously there will be those who say bunk to that, especially considering the things that are going on in this country right now, things that are far bigger than the travails of one pop star. But a tragedy of some sort is happening before our eyes. Let's hope it doesn't reach what seems to be its natural conclusion.

Creative, or too much time on one's hands?

Presenting for your viewing pleasure ... The Dark Knight trailer, reproduced with Legos!

Sign this guy up, Hollywood! (Or not)

Today I feel like an American ...

Twenty-five minutes ago, I cast my vote for President of the United States.

Voting, in my opinion, is one of those things that separate the humans from the animals. If you're a citizen and you don't take the time to put your choices about where your country, your state, your community should go on the record, then you're a bum and you don't deserve to hold the privileges that come with being a citizen. It's that simple. Too many people have bled and died, both in foreign wars and on domestic soil, for the right to vote.

So for the past 20 years, every election day, I've made it a point to take myself to the local polling place and do my thing. And more often than not, it's the first thing I do in the day - after getting out of bed, taking a shower and getting dressed, of course. It's always a good gauge for me to see how big turnout will be by the number of people who are in line when the polls open - or, indeed, if there is a line at all. This time, there was - I was third in a line of about seven at 7 a.m. here in Hollywood, and by the time I completed my ballot, there were more than a dozen voters in the space, of all ages and shapes and colors. Gratifying, to say the least. The passion for the electoral process really seems to be on its way up in recent years. One can always speculate why, even if those reasons are obvious. But they're coming to say their peace, and that's all that's important.

As I said, this is my 20th year as a voter in national and state elections. Sometimes my choices win, often they do not. And even in a nation when the right to vote and to have that vote counted seems to be under more scrutiny than it has since the 1960s, the fact that it's such an issue is, in itself, a positive. If you own a car or a TV or a computer, it behooves you to give a damn about the maintenance of that object, since it's your investment that's in them. Well, you own this country, so ... touché, as they say in Kentucky.

Free-fallin' …

Those who know me well know that football is not my favorite sport; that baseball is how I roll. But maybe that's why I appreciate what the New York Giants accomplished last night, because they did more than win the Super Bowl in what will go down as one of the great upsets in NFL history. They shut up pro football's version of the Evil Empire, the New England Patriots, who were heavily favored to complete the first 19-0 season in the history of the league.


Many people outside of the Boston Metro area - and, I don't know, maybe even a few who live there at this point - had grown pretty weary of the Patriot Express. And how could they not, when you think about it? Forgoing the ongoing Spygate controversy concerning whether Patriots coach Bill Belichick had cheated his way to football immortality, there was much about this team that royally pissed off a plethora of fans. The way they ran up the score against opponents; the way quarterback Tom Brady seemed to score at will off the field, if you know what I mean - even the gall of the Boston Globe to prepare a commemorative book entitled 19-0 (and to make it available for pre-order on Amazon.com weeks before the Super Bowl) - all of this piled up in the karmic column of the Pats. But there seemed to be little anyone could do about it. After all, this team was that good. Their ultimate victory, to achieve the first undefeated season since the Miami Dolphins went all the say 35 years ago, seemed all but assured. I mean, surely the Giants and Eli Manning couldn't stop the inevitable, right?

Wrong.

Let's not take away from the Giants' story. They started 0-2, with calls for coach Tom Coughlin's head and the final burial of Eli as a high-profile bust. But they crawled back up in classic sports fashion, eventually winning 11 road games in a row, including all four of their playoff games - playoff games in which they were always the underdog. And they won their final game of the season in epic fashion, with a desperately successful scoring drive late in the fourth quarter, complete with a Manning-to-David Tyree catch that will go down in lore (and that's no hyperbole). For at least a few weeks, Peyton Manning is now Eli's older brother instead of the other way around. But, really, this is much more about the Patriots biting the big one, and about Belichick getting his comeuppance. Let's now relish their crushing defeat, the burning of their wax wings as they flew too close to the sun. Or, to use baseball terminology, the Yankees are dead. And that book just became birdcage liner.

I don't know what's more disturbing ...

... Martin Lawrence starring in a G-rated movie, or Adam Sandler starring in ... well, any movie!

When does The Dark Knight come out again?

And that, boys and girls, is why they play the game …

Super Bowl XLII, final score: Giants 17, Patriots 14.



Oh, well … nobody's perfect!

Super Bowl prediction ...

Giants 30, Patriots 28. History changed! The Evil Empire (NFL division) vanquished! Good prevails over bad!

There, I said it. So sue me for being a bloody Pollyana.

Also, Tom Petty will rock hard. Or at least as hard as Tom Petty can rock.

What is he thinking?

Oh, maybe, "Put me the f*** down, buttheads ... and watch the hands!"

Six more weeks of winter, guys!

Class act ...

If you want to know something about Daniel Day-Lewis, watch this clip of his acceptance of the Best Male Actor Award at last night's Screen Actors Guild Awards. The last thing on his mind was the award, There Will Be Blood or much of anything else save one thing - or, more to the point, one man:



And that, John Gibson, is how you honor someone's memory.

Uh-oh ...

Just read online that the president of the Mormon Church and the leader of the Greek Orthodox Church both died today - or, in the latter's case, tomorrow, since it's already Monday in Athens. If the Pope, Billy Graham, a major Muslim cleric, George Lucas or Hugh Hefner pass on in the next 48 hours, I'm outta here, 'cause something will then definitely be up.

P.S. Of course, I'll then also put money on the Cubs to win the World Series. 'Cause naturally they'll go all the way right before the Earth goes poof.

Heath Ledger: 1979-2008

As if the entertainment community wasn't already in a dark mood thanks to the writers' strike and the threat of the Oscars being disrupted, a true tragedy overshadowed all of that ... well, all of that nonsense by comparison. The death of Heath Ledger at the young age of 28 just puts everything into perspective. Much has already been said of his passing, and much more will be said - good, bad and ridiculous - about what may have happened before and up to this afternoon in that Manhattan apartment, and about what could have been in the years to come. All I will say is this - and forgive me if it sounds cliché: I'll never listen to that sad, slow theme from Brokeback Mountain the same way again. That movie broke this heterosexual man's heart. And now it has again in a much deeper way. G'day, mate.

I don't know about you, but I'm sleepy ...

Well, that was fun, wasn't it?

Well, it was fun for me, even if I had to get up at 5 a.m to watch the Academy Award nominations live, even my Oscar predictions weren't exactly on point. Still, I challenge anyone who had both Viggo Mortensen and Laura Linney scoring nominations to please step forward to take your rightfully earned laurels? No? Nobody? That's what I thought.

Seriously, this Academy Awards nomination business is wicked complicated. If you think the Electoral College or how they figure out which presidential candidates get how many delegates per primary is out there, you haven't read the rules that go behind awarding Oscar nods to the lucky few. I would post them here, but then I'd have to kill you to put you out of your misery and then kill myself out of guilt, and my behind costs too much for me to kill myself, so there you go. The old saying goes that you should never see laws or sausages being made; you could throw the Oscar nomination process in to that axiom for good measure. All of which is to say, picking these things down the line 100 percent is very, very hard to do. No matter how much you try to cover your ass every which way but Sunday.

Having said that, here's how I did. You can play along by going to my picks and the actual nominations.

Best Picture - four out of five: No Country for Old Men, There Will Be Blood and Juno were locks because of the collective hype and acclaim these very different films have accumulated over the past several weeks. I also got Atonement right despite the mixed reaction it has engendered, mainly because this big, glossy romantic British epic is the kind of stuff Oscar voters scoop up faster than Amy Winehouse can gobble her daily pharmaceutical intake. I had Sweeney Todd for the final spot, though that pick probably was folly to begin with - most experts had George Clooney's legal drama Michael Clayton in that position, and sure enough, they were right. In fact, Clayton earned seven nominations, quite a haul for a law-based, old-school thriller that didn't exactly take in a lot of box-office cheddar. But the power of the Clooney can't be denied, it seems.

Best Actor - three out of five: Wow, did I get this one wrong. Sure, three of my choices got in, including Johnny Depp, who wasn't exactly a overwhelming pick despite his crackling good performance in Sweeney Todd. And Viggo Mortensen had a decent amount of Oscar buzz for his skills at Russian and swordfighting (you figure it out) in Eastern Promises. But Tommy Lee Jones in In the Valley of Elah? Most everyone thought that if he did make it into the Academy mix, it would be for his supporting work in No Country, not for his lead work in Elah, a well-received but commercially unsuccessful Iraq War docudrama. Still, the voters have spoken and have voted Emile Hirsch and Denzel Washington off of the Oscar island. That's OK, though - Washington already has two, and Hirsch, well, he's be back in the Oscar hunt next year for Speed Racer! (not)

Best Actress - three out of five: Weird, this category is, I say in my best Yoda. Two of the nominees, Julie Christie and Marion Cotillard, star in movies that were released back in the spring (April and June, respectively) which would seem to defy the logic that the earlier movies are released, the lower their chances of being recognized (read: remembered) by the Academy voters, even in this age of DVD. Yet Angelina Jolie, who got nearly as much acclaim as Christie and Cotillard for her role as Daniel Pearl's widow in A Mighty Heart, is bumped from the proceedings. Heart also came out in June, so maybe her film was forgotten by the Academy - or maybe they just didn't like her performance as much as Cate Blanchett's reprise of the Virgin Queen in Elizabeth: The Golden Age. And I owe a big time apology to one of my current celebrity crushes, Laura Linney, for giving her virtually no chance of making the final cut for The Savages; this probably hurts my chances at landing a date with her.

Well, that, and the fact that she's engaged.

Best Supporting Actor - five out of five: Let the record show that I nailed this category. About time I nailed something. Hello! I'm here all week - try the veal!

Best Supporting Actress - four out of five: I took a chance on Saoirse Ronan for Atonement and was rewarded for my hunch. I also took a chance on Catherine Keener in Into the Wild and was bitch-slapped, though Tilda Swinton's performance in Michael Clayton was considered something of a sure thing by a lot of people. I'm very happy about Ruby Dee receiving her first nomination at age 83. (Ronan also got her first nod - at age 13. Someone sit both ladies at the same table at the Oscar luncheon.)

Best Director - three out of five: Of the major categories, here was my biggest surprise - Jason Reitman for Juno getting the nod over Sean Penn (Into the Wild) and Tim Burton (Sweeney Todd). For me, this is clear evidence that the Oscar voters, for better or worse, have drank heartedly from the Juno Kool-Aid bowl and love what they taste. It won't be enough for Reitman to beat the Coen brothers, or probably for Page to best the Julie Christie juggernaut. (I'm betting that I'm the first writer in recorded history to use the terms "Julie Christie" and juggernaut" in the same sentence.) But Reitman's presence in this category elevates Juno's chances, however minutely, for Best Picture. That is, until the inevitable backlash that hits these tiny films almost all the time.

I may post later about some of the more perplexing snubs that have me scratching my head, along with some tasty Oscar trivia that you can use at your favorite cocktail parties. So stay alert for that. I know I will.

The actual nominees for the 80th Annual Academy Awards ...

Best Picture
Atonement
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men
There Will Be Blood

Actor
George Clooney, Michael Clayton
Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood
Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Tommy Lee Jones, In the Valley of Elah
Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises

Actress
Cate Blanchett, Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Julie Christie, Away From Her
Marion Cotillard, La Vie en Rose
Laura Linney, The Savages
Ellen Page, Juno

Supporting Actor
Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men
Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson's War
Tom Wilkinson, Michael Clayton

Supporting Actress
Cate Blanchett, I'm Not There
Ruby Dee, American Gangster
Saoirse Ronan, Atonement
Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone
Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton

Director
Julian Schnabel, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Jason Reitman, Juno
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton
Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, No Country for Old Men
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood

Foreign-Language Film
Beaufort, Israel
The Counterfeiters, Austria
Katyn, Poland
Mongol, Kazakhstan
12, Russia

Adapted Screenplay
Christopher Hampton, Atonement
Sarah Polley, Away From Her
Ronald Harwood, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Joel Coen & Ethan Coen, No Country for Old Men
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood

Original Screenplay
Diablo Cody, Juno
Nancy Oliver, Lars and the Real Girl
Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton
Brad Bird, Jan Pinkava and Jim Capobianco, Ratatouille
Tamara Jenkins, The Savages.

Animated Feature Film
Persepolis
Ratatouille
Surf's Up

Art Direction
American Gangster, Arthur Max (Set Decoration: Beth A. Rubino)
Atonement, Sarah Greenwood (Set Decoration: Katie Spencer)
The Golden Compass, Dennis Gassner (Set Decoration: Anna Pinnock)
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Dante Ferretti (Set Decoration: Francesca Lo Schiavo)
There Will Be Blood, Jack Fisk (Set Decoration: Jim Erickson)

Cinematography
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Roger Deakins
Atonement, Seamus McGarvey
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Janusz Kaminski
No Country for Old Men, Roger Deakins
There Will Be Blood, Robert Elswit

Sound Mixing
The Bourne Ultimatum, Scott Millan, David Parker and Kirk Francis
No Country for Old Men, Skip Lievsay, Craig Berkey, Greg Orloff and Peter Kurland
Ratatouille , Randy Thom, Michael Semanick and Doc Kane
3:10 to Yuma, Paul Massey, David Giammarco and Jim Stuebe
Transformers, Kevin O’Connell, Greg P. Russell and Peter J. Devlin

Sound Editing
The Bourne Ultimatum, Karen Baker Landers and Per Hallberg
No Country for Old Men, Skip Lievsay
Ratatouille , Randy Thom and Michael Silvers
There Will Be Blood, Matthew Wood
Transformers, Ethan Van der Ryn and Mike Hopkins

Original Score
Atonement, Dario Marianelli
The Kite Runner, Alberto Iglesias
Michael Clayton, James Newton Howard
Ratatouille , Michael Giacchino
3:10 to Yuma, Marco Beltrami

Original Song
"Falling Slowly" from Once, Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
"Happy Working Song" from Enchanted, Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz
"Raise It Up" from August Rush, Nominees to be determined
"So Close" from Enchanted, Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz
"That's How You Know" from Enchanted, Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz

Costume Design
Across the Universe, Albert Wolsky
Atonement, Jacqueline Durran
Elizabeth: The Golden Age , Alexandra Byrne
La Vie en Rose, Marit Allen
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Colleen Atwood

Documentary Feature
No End in Sight
Operation Homecoming: Writing the Wartime Experience
Sicko
Taxi to the Dark Side
War/Dance

Documentary Short Subject
Freeheld
La Corona (The Crown)
Salim Baba
Sari's Mother

Film Editing
The Bourne Ultimatum, Christopher Rouse
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Juliette Welfling
Into the Wild, Jay Cassidy
No Country for Old Men, Roderick Jaynes
There Will Be Blood, Dylan Tichenor

Makeup
La Vie en Rose, Didier Lavergne and Jan Archibald
Norbit, Rick Baker and Kazuhiro Tsuji
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, Ve Neill and Martin Samuel

Animated Short Film
I Met the Walrus
Madame Tutli-Putli
Meme Les Pigeons Vont au Paradis (Even Pigeons Go to Heaven)
My Love (Moya Lyubov)
Peter & the Wolf

Live Action Short Film
At Night
Il Supplente (The Substitute)
Le Mozart des Pickpockets (The Mozart of Pickpockets)
Tanghi Argentini
The Tonto Woman

Visual Effects
The Golden Compass, Michael Fink, Bill Westenhofer, Ben Morris and Trevor Wood
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, John Knoll, Hal Hickel, Charles Gibson and John Frazier
Transformers, Scott Farrar, Scott Benza, Russell Earl and John Frazier

When it rains ... it really rains! (or, Sometimes good news does come in threes ...)

In the course of the past 72 hours, I have been informed that two of my dear friends from college are pregnant with child, and that a third is newly engaged and will be married before the year is out. So what does that make me?

Why, clean and articulate, that's what!

Remember ...

Addendum ...

Three more names to consider as possibilities, however remote, for Oscar nominations:

* Nikki Blonsky as Best Actress for Hairspray: The film itself was a light confection of music and song, but the contribution of newcomer Blonsky as the spunky heroine Tracy Turnblad can't be denied. Plus, considering how she reacted when she won at the Critics Choice Awards, it would be cool just to see how Blonsky would deal with getting an Academy Award nod.

* Helena Bonham Carter as Best Supporting Actress for Sweeney Todd: Johnny Depp dominated the proceedings in Tim Burton's macabre masterpiece, but Bonham Carter brought her own delights to the role of Todd's culinary inclined sidekick-in-crime, meat pie matron Mrs. Lovett - and I don't just mean her pregnancy-enhanced cleavage.

* Russell Crowe as Best Actor for 3:10 to Yuma: This is mostly for my good friend Lisa, who said she'd always question my film acumen if I didn't consider Crowe's contribution to the acclaimed Western - which I admit I haven't seen due to my moratorium on remakes. But since everyone I know who's seen it just can't stop talking about how great Yuma is, I think I'll have to make an exception to my rule.

There Will Be Oscars ...

Well, that was fast!

Like that creepy polar bear that stalks you without end for months before finally creeping up besides you and pretending to offer you an icy cold Coca-Cola before ripping out your throat and then pointing and laughing while sipping what was supposed to be your Coke, the Oscar nominations have snuck up on me. I think the combination of the gloom of the writers strike, a couple of imposing deadlines and the anticipation of the long-awaited World Championship Season™ of the Chicago Cubs clouded my mind to the upcoming 80th dispersal of the Academy Awards, but I'm wide awake now and ready to unleash my choice of who will be awakened at ungodly early hours in the morn with the good news that they get to hire stylists for the Big Day.

If the Big Day actually happens, that is. But let's not worry about what form the Oscar ceremony will take this year. Let's worry about who is going to get nominated. And that is a lot of worry, as this is again shaping up into one of those weird years where the winners are pretty much set in stone; it's who they will beat that is up in the air. It's also a year in which one of the major precursors, the Golden Globes, have been seriously diluted in terms of the powers of prognostication - not only because the WGA strike reduced the ceremony to a mere blip on the Billy Bush clip real, but also because the Oscar ballots were due the day before the Globes were announced. ("Take that, Hollywood Foreign Press Dudes!" says the arrogant Academy with a harumph and a swash of its molten golden paw.) So not much help there. It's also a year in which perennial favorites such as Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington and Julia Roberts pulled off good work and yet may still end up on the outside looking in. And, as stated before, it's a year where Daniel Day-Lewis, Julie Christie, Javier Bardem and Amy Ryan might as well start writing their acceptance speeches - if there are speeches, that is. (Seventy-six days and counting, kids ...)

So here we go. I would like to remind you that while I am a professional entertainment journalist, I also often have no idea what the f*** I'm talking about, and that it's a lot easier to pick the winners than it is the nominations. What I select below is done mostly on instinct and sheer dumb luck. Just like life.

OK, here we go. Locks are in bold, and I reserve the right to put down darkhorses as well, the better to cover my ass. And remember, this is just for fun, so please ... no wagering.

Best Picture
Atonement
Juno
No Country for Old Men
Sweeney Todd
There Will Be Blood

Darkhorses: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Michael Clayton

As you can see, there are only stone-cold locks among my picks: the grim thriller No Country for Old Men, the best movie the Coen Brothers have ever done (and that's saying a lot); and the even grimmer oil-drenched drama There Will Be Blood. Chances are the ultimate winner will come from those two, though don't rule out the whip-smart teen-pregnancy comedy Juno, which is about as close to a lock as you can come without actually being one. Still, its Best Picture nod is all but assured and it likely will score multiple nominations (see below) unless it has gotten so much hype, it's now cool to hate it. The other two slots are big-time toss-ups. I put Atonement in the mix because it's the type of lush, large romantic epic Academy voters eat up, but it's one of those movies you either love or hate. And Sweeney Todd is one of my favorite movies of the year, plus Tim Burton is majorly due for some Oscar dap, but was it of enough voters, er, taste? Don't be surprised if either the critical favorite Diving Bell or the Clooney-fied legal drama Michael Clayton sneak into the mix.

Best Actor
George Clooney, Michael Clayton
Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood
Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd
Emile Hirsch, Into the Wild
Denzel Washington, American Gangster

Darkhorses: Mathieu Amalric, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly; Ryan Gosling, Lars and the Real Girl; Tom Hanks, Charlie Wilson's War; James McAvoy, Atonement, Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises

Let's get one thing out the way here: Everyone mentioned in the category save one will be keeping his ass in his seat at the Kodak Theater (or wherever) on Feb. 24 (or whenever). This is Daniel Day-Lewis's Oscar, as he again has proven with his awesome performance as a malevolent, win-at-all-costs oil man in Bloodthat he is, pound for pound, the best working actor in the universe. (Though it would be nice to see how he would do in a comedy.) DDL's only guaranteed sacrificial lamb is Clooney, who once and for all proves that he is just more than a pretty face as the title role in Clayton - and that he can look pretty while giving a great film performance. As for the others, Depp just knocks Sondheim's score out of the park in Todd, Hirsch does great De Niro duty (losing 40 pounds) in playing the doomed drifter in Wild, and Washington was outstanding in two very different movies while directing one of them, which would make his Gangster nod one of those omnibus honors. But any or all of those three could be knocked off by any or some of the darkhorse candidates, particular Gosling, who made what could have been a joke of a movie into a touching treat (not in that way) or Hanks, who was effortless as an amoral Congressman with a singular policy goal in the satiric Charlie Wilson's War. And it would be most cool if Amalric is nominated for a role that had him literally frozen most of the time.

Best Actress
Julie Christie, Away From Her
Marion Cotillard, La Vie En Rose
Angelina Jolie, A Mighty Heart
Keira Knightley, Atonement
Ellen Page, Juno

Darkhorses: Amy Adams, Enchanted; Cate Blanchett, Elizabeth: The Golden Age

Remember what I said about Daniel Day-Lewis above? Well, double that for Julie Christie, who if my math is right will make Oscar history for the longest gap between acting awards in history. Forty-two years after she won Best Actress for Darling, Christie will take home Oscar No. Two for her performance as an Alzheimer's patient in Away From Her. (The current record holder? Helen Hayes, 39 years.) The closest thing to competition Christie has comes in the form of 20-year-old Canadian newcomer Ellen Page, who is the cynical, wise-assed heart of Juno. Cotillard is a lock for her performance as Edith Piaf in La Vie, as is Knightley, who will rise above the wishy-washy attitudes toward Atonement. That leaves one toss-up. Will people remember Jolie's heartfelt portrayal of Mariane Pearl in A Mighty Heart or go for something more current? Blanchett did rule the day in the otherwise disappointing sequel Elizabeth: The Golden Age. And I put Amy Adams's name in the possibilities pile mostly because Roger Ebert did in his prediction article, but who says fluff has no place at the Oscars?

Best Supporting Actor
Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson's War
Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild
Tom Wilkinson, Michael Clayton

Darkhorses: Paul Dano, There Will Be Blood; Ben Foster, 3:10 to Yuma; Andy Griffith, Waitress; Tommy Lee Jones, No Country for Old Men; J.K. Simmons, Juno

Again, another category that's done before it even started. Bardem will win the Oscar for his chilling, guttural performance as the oh-so-determined hitman in No Country. But whom will he blow away? Affleck is probably in if only because he gave two great acting jobs, in Jesse James and in big brother Ben's directing debut Gone Baby Gone. And I'll make Hoffman a lock mainly because he was great in three movies this year (Charlie Wilson's War, Before the Devil Knows Your Dead and The Savages) and was really great in the former. Wilkinson is good in everything he does, including Clayton, and Holbrook will get this season's Old Coot Who's Never Been Nominated prize - if it doesn't go to Andy Griffith, who was just sensation in Adrienne Shelly's dramedy Waitress, but who sadly is a longshot at a nomination. Of the other honorables, Jones was stoic and sad in No Country, and the great character actor J.K. Simmons could ride the wave if Juno scores big time in the nomination pool.

Best Supporting Actress
Cate Blanchett, I'm Not Here
Ruby Dee, American Gangster
Catherine Keener, Into the Wild
Saoirse Ronan, Atonement
Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone

Darkhorses: Jennifer Garner, Juno; Allison Janney, Juno; Vanessa Redgrave, Atonement; Julia Roberts, Charlie Wilson's War; Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton

The Supporting Actress category is usually the most volatile of the acting contests, and this year is no exception; even the likely winner, Amy Ryan, is the least sturdy of the four eventual winners, even if her probability is only 85 to 90 percent as opposed to the 95-plus percent chances of Day-Lewis, Christie and Bardem. Remember, this is the category of Marisa Tomei, Anna Paquin and Juliette Binoche, so nothing is certain here. And that goes for the other nominees. Blanchett could become the second woman to win an Oscar for playing a man thanks to her interpretation of Bob Dylan (or at least a facet of Dylan's personality) in the unusual I'm Not Here. The 13-year-old Ronan, whose first name I still can't pronounce, is the catalyst for the tragedy in Atonement. Keener shows her acting chops yet again in Wild, though her Oscar time may come next year if the buzz about An American Crime is on the money. And then there Ruby Dee, who shakes Denzel Washington to the core in Gangster - and, like Holbrook and Griffith, has never been nominated for an Academy Award. No time like the present, right? Still, this could also be a chance to honor the women of Juno with nominations for Garner and/or Janney. Swinton has collected rave reviews for Clayton. And never rule out a virtual cameo like the one that Redgrave puts in in Atonement - remember Judi Dench and Beatrice Straight.

Best Director
Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood
Tim Burton, Sweeney Todd
Joel and Ethan Coen, No Country for Old Men
Sean Penn, Into the Wild
Julian Schnabel, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Darkhorses: Tony Gilroy, Michael Clayton; Jason Reitman, Juno; Joe Wright, Atonement

In many ways, this is the easiest category to figure out - just go by the likely Best Picture nominees and the DGA Award nominees, and there you are. This time around, I think four of the DGA nominees will match up with the Oscar finalist. You can definitely count on the Coen brothers, Anderson and Schnaebel to be among the five (or six, in this case) men standing. Sean Penn proved that his already interesting directing career will be impressive as well thanks to Wild. And while many Oscar pundits have the fifth slot going to Gilroy or Wright, I think this is the year that Tim Burton will finally get his Academy due thanks to his brilliant melding of murder and music in Todd.

Other things to watch out for in the nominations:

* Diablo Cody (Juno) and the Coens (No Country) will win the original and adapted screenplay Oscars respectively; again, it's only a matter of who they will vanquish.

* Eddie Vedder (Into the Wild) and Clint Eastwood (Grace Is Gone) should have something in common by mid-morning - they both should have nabbed their first-ever nominations for Best Original Song. In both cases, it's about time. And it would be sooooo cool if the title track from Walk Hard sneaks into that category as well.

* Michael Moore should get another opportunity to embarrass himself for our souls, as Sicko is a strong contender for Best Documentary Feature.

* And if the nominations announcement goes on without someone making a joke about the strike, I owe you all a dollar.

Sit back, enjoy the ride and be prepared to tell me so when my predictions implode.

Coming soon to a theater near you ...

Weekend at Bernie's III: Havana Nights

The mayor has no clothes! (Or, paging Hugh Hefner!)

This morning I came across the story of Carmen Kontur-Gronquist and the efforts to oust her from her job as the mayor of Arlington, a town of 524 that sits on the south side of the Washington-Oregon border. Until now Arlington's biggest claim to fame has been as the birthplace of former Tonight Show bandleader Doc Severinsen, but Doc has nothing on the story that has thrust Mayor Kontur-Gronquist from her position. Seems that there are those in the town who object to the content of her MySpace page - namely, the presence of sexy photos of the good mayor showing off her impressive physique in her bra and panties. The complainers think Kontur-Gronquist has brought shame to their community by having the pictures (which were posted before she assumed the office) there for all of the Internets to see, and they want her to resign - or to be recalled if she declines to go, which she has so far done on the grounds that she has done nothing wrong. Which she hasn't, especially compared to some of the yahoos who pass as politicians these days.

But if Kontur-Gronquist is ousted as mayor, I guarantee you that it won't take long for Hugh Hefner to shoot her an e-mail containing an offer to pose for Playboy, either the magazine or the Web site, in her underwear or far less. She's right up their alley, and not just because of her buffed-out body (I would guess she has taken part in fitness competitions in the past). A mayor targeted for actions that have less to do with her official duties than her private life? Heck, this wouldn't even be the first fired mayor Playboy has done a pictorial on!

Here are two of the photos in question. (Kontur-Gronquist's MySpace page is still up but is currently restricted to friends only, and I don't think she'll be adding new friends any time soon.) They're PG-13, but they may be NSFW depending on where you're employed, so enter at your own risk.

http://www.urbangrounds.com/images/Carmen_Kontur-Gronquist.jpg

http://www.urbangrounds.com/images/Carmen_Kontur-Gronquist_2.jpg

You'll notice, by the way, that both photos were taken on a fire truck; the mayor's day job is as the executive secretary of the Arlington Fire Department, and I'm sure those guys don't mind about the pics!

Ask and you will receive!

Beth, in a comment to the post directly below this one, really wanted to a commercial involving bunnies in a pillow fight, not one or the other. Well, this isn't a commercial, but it does involve bunnies taking part in a pillow fight. Ah, YouTube is amazing, isn't it?



What, no? Not exactly the same thing? Hmm ... I see your point. OK, what about this?



Or this?



Bunnies! Bunnies for everyone!

This commercial should win a freakin' award ...

And I don't even like vodka. Wait, let me rephrase - I've never had vodka, so I don't know if I would like it or not. Because hey - alcohol drink made from potatoes? Eww.

Anyhoo, here's the clip:



See - cute! Well, expect maybe if you wear glasses - then not so cute. But overall, cute and clever. And, of course, totally conveying the feeling of drinking a glass of vodka.

Or, if your idea of cute isn't people beating each other silly with pillows but rather is, say, bunnies cavorting, try this out for size:



Very cute. No vodka shill, but very cute. (Right, Beth?)

Speaking of talk-show hosts' beards (and no, I'm not talking about whomever is dating Carson Daly right now) ...

The jury may be out on how David Letterman's strike-fueled facial growth looks (he compares himself to a younger, pre-op Kenny Rogers), but Conan O'Brien's ruddy beard actually suits him. Why, he actually looks 20 years old now. Also, O'Brien may have clinched his role as the young Kris Kringle in James Cameron's upcoming Santa Claus epic ...



Now, if Stephen Colbert comes back on the air next week with a goatee and sideburns, we quit.

Horsin' around ...

My friend Sue sent me this clip this morning, and God love her for it. It's footage from the 2006 World Equestrian Games Freestyle Dressage Final in Aachen, Germany, and the mare in question, with the somewhat unfortunate name of Blue Hors Matine, seems to be the Tiger Woods of her sport. Or maybe, more appropriately, the John Travolta. If someone ever wants to do a series called Dancing with the Critters - and the way the writers' strike is going, who knows - they need to sign this sucker up first thing. Though I don't know how Ms. Matine will look in one of those barely-there glitter outfits.



By the way, Ms. Blue Hors finished second in the entire competition. I'd love to see the horse who won the damn thing!

P.S. Love the sober commentary that goes along with this clip. These guys could use a few more Red Bulls in their diet, and I hate that stuff!

Finally David Letterman and I have something in common ...

... besides the first name and smartass attitude, that is.

Wanna feel old?

Well, you probably don't want to. But the news that Sir Paul McCartney has had a heart operation may make some people feel a bit ancient. The 65-year-old Beatle (enough of this "former Beatle" crap; he'll always be a Beatle) underwent an angioplasty several days ago after not feeling well, according to the Daily Telegraph, but recovered enough to join Kylie Minogue on a New Year's Eve TV broadcast in England.

The idea of someone like McCartney, who so many people remember as being vital and young during the Beatles' heyday, may indeed be enough to give some pause. Then again, the fact that two of his bandmates already are among the dearly departed, no matter how relatively young John and George were when they left, already may have done the trick.

Meanwhile, Keith Richards still walks among us.

Yeah ... this probably isn't the best way to start 2008!

That's right ... Paris Hilton and Kevin Federline, together, if only for a few minutes hours over the New Year's holiday. The two "stars" were at the same Las Vegas party over the weekend, and People magazine goes so far as the two had some private time in Paris' hotel suite.^*(I'm sorry if you were eating just then.)

What's more pathetic - the tabloid twins possibly hooking up, or K-Fed's excuse for a haircut? Actually, I think it's the fact that I'm eating up precious bandwidth writing about this. So forgive me. Please.

^*I guess we'll know soon enough if Ms. Hilton and the former Mr. Spears actually got jiggy with it - if Paris announces within the month that she's pregnant with white-rapping triplets, that's probably a "yes".

2007: The Year in Rebuke, er, Review

My confidential sources inform me that at midnight tonight, 2007 ends forever. What's more, it will be immediately followed by another year, 2008. Astonishing, I know.

Seriously, this is the time in which we are told to look back at the previous 12 months - because where we've been can say a lot about where we are going. But maybe for this one time - again - looking back may be hazardous to our health. Don't believe me?

















Yeah ... that about sums it up. But don't worry, kids ... next year we'll make some more!

The wind cries Santa ...

It was 75 degrees in Los Angeles on Christmas Eve, but we paid for the balmy weather with sustained winds that reminded me of the tornadic activity back home. Don't believe me? See below:

So you think you're having a crappy Christmas?

I thought I was ... until I heard that the Chicago Bulls fired head coach Scott Skiles today - Christmas Eve! I mean, sure, the team has had a very disappointing start, but it's not like they've sucked for years. The Bulls have made the playoffs for three years in a row, a peak for the post-Jordan years. And, what, the team was still going to be bad on December 26, so they couldn't have waited two more days?

How Scroogy!

This story makes me sick ...

This morning, as I awoke to another sunrise in Los Angeles and another story about Jamie Lynn Spears still being pregnant, I also awoke to another reality: that I am the living result of an "experiment". At least, that's what the CIGNA insurance company thinks. The "experiment" line was the rationale that they took to deny a Los Angeles family coverage of the liver transplant that their daughter, 17-year-old Nataline Sarkisyan, needed to save her life. Nataline was a leukemia patient who underwent a bone-marrow transplant from her brother, but a complication led to a lung infection and, eventually, liver failure. But CIGNA denied the Sarkisyans' request for coverage for the procedure, saying that the operation was, yeah, experimental.

As Nataline lay in a medically induced coma at UCLA Medical Center, a large rally in front of CIGNA's L.A. headquarters was staged yesterday to convince the behemoth to reverse their decision - and, miracle of miracle, it works. The family got word at the rally that CIGNA would cover the surgery after all, though even then they couched their words as if they were doing the Sarkisyans a favor - the favor the clan had paid for with premiums, by the way. But only hours after that, Nataline took a turn for the worse and died before she could go under the knife.

In their statement approving the transplant, CIGNA said that their "hearts go out to Nataline and her family as they endure this terrible ordeal". Now that she's dead, CIGNA isn't saying anything so far - probably in anticipation of the inevitable lawsuit - so no word on where their hearts are now. We know where their livers aren't.

Look, there are differences between my situation and Nataline's. I didn't have cancer, for one. But I was on death's door - hell, death was knocking hard and using a chainsaw to cut the door open. At the time I was double-covered by my parents' dual insurance policies, and still the bill was as long as a Russian novel. They fought us over paying for a medical jet that would transport me to Omaha for the transplant, claiming that they could just load my comatose ass onto a commercial flight. And that was almost 20 years ago. Who knew how long the "experiment" would last - or what hoops we would have to go through if I had the transplant today - or, God forbid, need another one someday?

This is not a political blog for the most part. But if you ever needed any proof that the health-care system in this country is irretrievably broken, just look at the corpse of Nataline Sarkisyan. Seventeen years old. Dead because of a corporate decision. Several candidates on both sides tell us that it's our responsibility to be insured in order to fix the problem. But if the insurance company doesn't do its job, then why bother?

UPDATE: Here is the Los Angeles Times' take on the situation.

UPDATE 2: The Sarkisyans have hired a big-time lawyer and may be going after more than a lawsuit. Murder and/or manslaughter charges may be filed. A message is about to be sent, and how.

His s*** don't stink!

Congratulations go out from this blog to Kaka, the Brazilian soccer player who has won Player of the Year honors from FIFA, also known as the European football folks. And a double congrats to Kaka for avoiding finishing No. 2 in the vote. That would have really been a crapper.

P.S. In Argentina, "kaka" is slang for the male genitalia. Just wanted to share.

Just as long as there are no upskirts ...

In an apparent indication that Pope Benedict XVI realizes that he's no John Paul II, the Vatican has brought in a consultant, legendary Italian director Franco Zeffirelli, to work on the Pontiff's image. Zeffirelli thinks that Benedict's image isn't happy and that his wardrobe is too flashy, but admits that John Paul is a hard act to follow:

"Coming after a pope as telegenic as John Paul II is a difficult task."

No crap, Sherlock. And you never say JPII needing any help in conveying his image - well, maybe except for the time he toured with 2 Live Crew. But that mash-up ended badly in a clash over who ate all of the green M&Ms at the craft services table.

Meanwhile, Zeffirelli, who directed Romeo and Juliet and Jesus of Nazareth, also will help the Vatican by "defending the faith in cinema" - which means making sure those who make so-called Christian-themed movies know exactly what they're doing. In commenting on that, Zeffirelli threw Mel Gibson - who starred in the director's 1990 rendition of Hamlet - under the missionary bus:

"You have to pay attention, as shown by the fallout from Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ which irreversibly harmed the memory of millions of people."

Yeah, that sounds like a thumbs-down to me. Wonder what Franco thinks of The Golden Compass. Not to mention Bad Santa, the third-greatest Christmas movie ever!

(Definitely not) silent after all these years ...

Even though I'm a fan, I'll be the first one to admit that Tori Amos is an acquired taste of a musician. She can be quirky as hell, but no one can deny her talents as a singer, a pianist and a songwriter. And her core audience is as loyal as they come. And now we know, thanks to the concert clip below, that Amos is also a badass motherf*****. Just watch as she performs the song "Code Red" (from her most recent album, American Doll Posse) during a show in San Diego two nights ago. Her performance is fierce, but that's nothing compare to what she does to the two bimbettes chatting amongst themselves in the front row. If you're in a hurry, fast forward the clip to about 2:25 into the song.

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If the girls were annoying enough for Amos to react the ways she did (and comments from those who were there seem to confirm as much), then you can't really blame her for what she did. In fact, Laurence Fishburne once stopped a Broadway performance midstream to chastise an audience member who answered their ringing cell phone and took the call. Even church services aren't immune to the plague that is short-attention span theater.

Actually, the chicks probably got off easy. If they had been doing that during a Phil Spector concert, dude probably would have put a cap in their butts.

Jodie Foster, in or out? CNN helpfully clears things up for us ...

This just in: Jodie Foster is gay. A lesbian. Prefers the company of the fairer sex.

How do I know this? 'Cause CNN says it's so. Go to CNN.com and peruse the links on the home page. There is says, in bold blue text, "Jodie Foster publicly thanks gay partner."

Click on that link, and you'll get this helpful and informative video about why they can say Jodie Foster is so gay.

Now, it's true that Foster did, at an awards ceremony last week, publicly thank the woman considered by many to be her longtime companion (as they used to say in the '80s), Cyndey Bernard. And yes, many clues point to the fact that Foster and Bernard are more than just chums, most notably that Foster's two sons each have "Bernard" as a middle name. And maybe, just maybe, Foster's declaration of affection last week marks her subtle way of coming out. But is CNN going to far by stating that Foster thanked her "gay partner"?

And, most important of all, why the hell do we care? Indeed, why am I writing this blog post?

Yeah, why am I writing this blog post? Never mind, move along. Ooooh, Led Zeppelin concert clubs below!

Ike spiked ...

Ike Turner, America's favorite rock-and-roll pioneer-slash-unrepentant wife beater, left us yesterday at the age of 76. This post is not to rehash the many peaks and valley's of Mr. Turner's appearance on Earth, but to applaud our friends at the New York Post for yet another subtle turn of phrase in their headline to Ike's obit.

Keep staying classy, Post guys.

What a pig ...

This is Bobby Petrino. He's a football coach - a successful one, for the most part. He was a major success at the University of Louisville, going 41-9 in his four years there and raising the Cardinals to a powerhouse in the NCAAs, after decades of being known as just a basketball school. He took that record to the NFL, signing a lucrative deal with the Atlanta Falcons prior to this season.

Bobby Petrino is a football coach.

He's also, as of last night, a coward and a quitter.

That's because Petrino's tenure as Falcons head coach also ended last night, abruptly, precisely 13 games into his NFL career. In fact, it ended less than 24 hours after he had led his team against the New Orleans Saints on Monday Night Football. Hours before that game, Petrino had told his boss, Falcons owner Arthur Blank, that he was with Atlanta for the long haul, despite the fact that the team had gone through a dismal season, a season that was doomed from the beginning after Michael Vick, their dazzling star quarterback, blew his career and his life by becoming the mastermind of a dogfighting ring and getting caught doing it. No, he told Blank, he had no desire to jump ship for the open job at the University of Arkansas, despite rumblings that Blank had heard in the background.

The next day, in the aftermath of the Falcons' 34-14 loss to the Saints - and Petrino's challenge to his players to ask themselves how they could improve the 3-10 team - the coach called Blank to tell him he was done. That night, he was at a press conference in Arkansas to accept the Razorbacks' coaching position.

How did he tell his former Falcon players? With a form letter hung in their lockers. It might as well have said "So long, suckers!" And just like that, Michael Vick - who was sentenced to 23 months in federal prison the morning of Petrino's last game with the Falcons - was no longer the most notorious person in Atlanta. At least for the time being.

We hear so much about how pro athletes aren't loyal anymore to their teams, their fan bases - that they're in it only for themselves and not the greater good of their respective franchises. But it's just as bad, maybe worse, when coaches pull the same act. Petrino is a doctrinaire coach, one based in discipline. He clashed with veterans on the Falcons, even cutting a popular and still effective lineman during the team's bye week as if to make a point about who was boss. He outlawed loud talking during team dinners. It was his prerogative to set team rules, as it is for any head coach - but Petrino seemed incapable of dealing with his players as men of respect. And then there was the absence of Vick, the talented QB Petrino was brought in to work with, to harness his skills into a form that would deliver those long-desired Super Bowl titles to Atlanta. The moment he was busted for the dogfighting, their season was effectively over. Petrino may have been dealt a bum hand, but he was being paid handsomely for it ($24 million over five years), and there was no reason not to suspect that he could right the boat next year, maybe the year after that.

Instead, he bailed out before his first year was even done, after effectively lying to his owner, his players and virtually everybody else in Georgia.

The Falcon players have condemned Petrino as a quitter and a coward and as less than a man, and why shouldn't they? After all, if one of them had pulled this act, the first person to blast them would have been Bobby Petrino. Blank says he feels "betrayed" by the move and also is pissed at Arkansas, whom he says didn't have permission to speak to Petrino. Almost everyone in the NFL family has blasted Petrino. Meanwhile, Arkansas apologists are speaking. "Forget everything you hear out of Atlanta," wrote Wally Hall in the Arkansas Democrat Gazette.

Yeah, Wally, remember that in two years when Petrino bails on Arkansas' ass to coach a larger NCAA program.

Falcons strong safety Lawyer Milloy may have said it best when summing up the sudden departure of his former coach. "This league is for real men," he said. "And I think he realized that he doesn't belong in it." At this point, I'm not sure what league Petrino belongs in. It surely isn't one I would be interested in watching.

Masterpiece Theatre now X-rated ...

Gillian Anderson has just been announced as the new host of PBS' Masterpiece Theater - or at least one of the hosts for this coming season, which promises to be a fun one (see the AP article regarding such). An interesting choice, especially since Anderson is the first Masterpiece host who can choose which accent she will use from segment to segment. Will she be American Gillian or British Gillian? That should be a ratings booster!

A whole lotta love last night ...

At the risk of doing something, er, illegal, I thought I would liven things up here by giving all of you cool cats who didn't have the good fortune of being in London last night for the long-awaited Led Zeppelin reunion gig a taste of what you - and I - missed. So kick back, pull out that dusty bottle of Jack Daniels (in honor of Mr. Bonham) and ride back with us to those days of yesteryear when men were men, women were women, and rock bands consistently blew the roof off the joint. (And praise God for the gift of YouTube.)

In order of set list:

"Good Times Bad Times" (the very first song on the very first Zeppelin album - fitting start to the concert, don't you think?)



"Stairway to Heaven" (or, as Robert Plant calls it, "that damn wedding song")



"Kashmir"



Encore No. 1 - "Whole Lotta Love" (not including, sadly, Rachel Dratch on the cello)

Note: Look at all the bald spots in the audience - classic!



Encore No. 2 - "Rock and Roll" (not including, happily, any Cadillac imagery)

Note: Sorry for the crappy sound on this one.



There was more, much more, but those are the only complete songs I could find on YouTube at the present moment. Still, you get the idea. This should tide you over until the world tour. (What?)

Idle hands ...

When do you know your blog hasn't been updated in, like, forever? When your own mother complains about why you haven't posted anything new in more than two months!

So I guess it's time I got off my duff (do the young ones still call it that?) and tried - forced myself, even - to keep things current. So, in the tradition of Ashley Judd in Someone Like You (see the film to know what I'm talking about), I'm blowing the dust off of this joint. I hope to be able to entertain the two or three of you who read this blog regularly in the past. And if I can double my audience, all the better.

Hi, Mom!!! :)