There's a wonderful biography of mathematician Paul Erdos entitled "The Man Who Loved Only Numbers." Here you have a title that exaggerates nothing: to Erdos, the whole world and everything in it — people, language, buildings, cars, furniture — were merely math's user-interface. People are for sharing ideas with, language is the means by which those ideas are communicated, buildings give people places to talk, cars will take you to the building with the people, and furniture is an important part of the system because it's hard to talk math for 20 hours while standing up.

He lived to be an old man and went through life without ever having a house or an apartment. He'd arrive on a campus and someone in the math department would give him a room. Then either his work would be over with or his host's patience would be exhausted and he'd move on. Lest this give you an incorrect impression, be advised that Erdos wasn't a leech and he wasn't a bum. He simply focused on the math. So long as there was a bed or a sofa to sleep on when it was time to stop doing math for a while, well, it really didn't occur to him to figure out where it came from or how long it'd continue to be there. He did incredible, important work and the fact that he found no shortage of beds and sofas is a testament to the charm of the man and his ideas.

I'm in a similar situation with broadband access. I have none of my own, yet I find myself surrounded by people to bum access from. I flit from flower to flower, always finding a new 802.11b access point when I need it. I had about 90 megabytes of stuff to download so instead of meeting a pal of mine at a restaurant tonight, I met him at his house. Lilith sat on his coffee table, slurping down system and software updates at an ambitious rate while I sat five miles away and enjoyed conversation and a large quantity of ground-up moo cow.

Why share all this with you?

Well, I'm stalling.

Stalling, stalling, stalling. Doo-doo-dee-doo-diddley-doo. Hmm-mmm-mmmm.

Why am I stalling?

Good suggestion: if I explain, it'll eat up even more time. Well, among the things I downloaded tonight was the Mac OS X 10.2.4 upgrade. As you no doubt recall, the last time I upgraded the OS the results were rather dramatic. Rent "The Poseidon Adventure" and fast-forward just past the bit where Carol Lynley sings "There's Got To Be A Morning After" to a lounge full of happy, dry, and upright passengers and you'll get the basic idea.

And it's March, too. Meaning it's no longer February. Meaning that a new bit of code will note the date and perform end-of-month maintenance all on its own for the first time.

As you can guess, I'm very curious about what's going to happen when I click the "Post" button. It's possible that I will be making my next post by scraping a piece of charcoal across a bit of animal skin.

Nope, still don't have the courage. I guess there's nothing to do but tell you about the latest crisis in the ongoing Nice Little Spot Of Lunch Saga.

Longtime readers of this blog are familiar with this charming passion play. A couple of years ago, my regular comic book shop went out of business. I will grudgingly allow that this event had a more serious impact upon the store's owner than it did on me, but it's not like I came out of this entirely unscathed, either. With the store went my regular Wednesday errand to get comic books and magazines. With the errand went my regular Nice Little Spot Of Lunch at the deli next door, where I'd have a corned beef sandwich and catch up on my reading.

I knew of many good shops and I knew of many good places to get a NLSOL, but the confounding hitch was finding an example of the former that was convenient to the latter. As you know, I finally settled on a system of "A" and "B" venues: for both comics and lunch I'd have a Prime venue and a Backup venue. Prime Comix Venue is an excellent shop in Waltham. If I can't get out of the house before a certain time, I substitute the "B" venue near my house, a shop which offers nothing like Prime's selection but doesn't force me to compete with rush-hour highway traffic.

The "A" venue for the NLSOL was a no-brainer: a little out-of-the-way luncheonette. It's absolutely aces. I am now a proud member of that envied upper-class of cafe society: I take my seat and the waitress simply asks "The usual, hon?" while sliding a fresh placemat in front of me. Problem is, they close at 3, and sometimes there's lunch crowd that can only be dispersed if you turn up buck-naked swinging a rake.

But even after a year or two with this system in place I still didn't have a "B" venue locked in. Sometimes it'd be the IHOP. Sometimes it'd be a chain-restaurant favored by the "I might wear a jacket and tie to work, but it doesn't mean I don't, you know, party" set.

And on one dark and memorable Wednesday, I parked myself in front of a Big Mac Extra Value Meal and tried to convince myself that this somehow counted as a Nice Little Spot of Lunch. I played along just to keep the peace but I made it clear that I wasn't about to put up with this sort of nonsense for much longer.

Fortunately, a bakery-cafe recently opened up in the strip-mall near the luncheonette. A couple of months ago I gave it an audition — incognite, of course; I didn't want them to take any special measures to impress the Venue Selection Committee — and I immediately granted it the concession. They have an aggressive vegetable soup, served with some kick butt bread. Their sandwiches are also served on kick butt bread. They have no club sandwiches, but there's a turkey-and-bacon served on a sundried-tomato focaccia with extra-sharp cheese that I find much to my liking. They're open until 9 PM, the soda fountain has Dr. Pepper, and there's never a shortage of tables.

The problem: I have eaten there four times now and I am tempted to make the bakery cafe the "A" venue.

The soup is just so damned good. And when I said that the bread kicks butt, I erred; I actually meant to say that one of the reasons why God put Evil on this earth was to make us worthy of bread like this.

I don't want to demote the luncheonette to Alternative status. I've got a great deal of equity invested in the place. I feel as though I'm only another seven or eight months from receiving the luncheonette equivalent of a MacArthur Grant: ie, I turn up at on my regular day at my regular time, and find that a piping-hot chicken club and a Coke are waiting for me at my usual booth.

Plus, this bakery cafe is part of a chain and I prefer to put my consumer dollars into independent business when practical.

But it's really very very very good bread. The money isn't an issue. A meal costs more at the bakery, but there's no tipping allowed. At the luncheonette, I tip like Sinatra and thus there's only a dime's worth of difference between the two.

Damned good bread.

...

As yet, I don't really know what I'm going to do about this. I'd like the decision to be made for me. I'm thinking about ratting out both places to the county health department and see which one re-opens.

...um...

OK. I suppose I can't keep putting this off.

Push the button, Frank...

| |

How can I be upset about the state of the world today? People are streaking again!

Even better, he's a serial streaker! The legendary Naked Jogger Of Binghamton, New York! I'm getting out my tax return again. I want to see if there's a box I can check to contribute $1 to a federal fund that supports this kind of thing.

News like this just brightens your whole day. You imagine some unremarkable 47-year-old guy in a cubicle, meekly processing his little numbers, signing something to acknowledge that he has read the memo regarding the change in procedure for processing the weekly RUSDA report, that sort of thing. Unbeknownst to anyone, though, there's a red ski mask in his desk drawer. Having caught the scent of an ineffable something in the crisp winter wind that morning while waiting for the #41 bus, he and he alone knows that the Naked Jogger Of Binghamton, New York will be making another appearance through a nearby parking garage again later that day.

Bravo to him, I say. What a powerful statement. If you're convinced that the State must be Smashed there are several ways to act on that idea but for sheer effectiveness, nothing beats getting naked and then forcing the police to run after you.

(For bonus points, throw a colorful scarf around your neck and make fire-engine noises, too.)

You see, it forces the State to rethink its direction. "Here I am, an educated man in the prime of life," the officer thinks, belly-flopping on the grass and skidding to a muddy stop as the result of zigging when he should have zagged. "Society has told me that the greatest investment I can make in my community is to assume the uniform and the responsibilities of that thin blue line between order and chaos. I am prepared to step between a defenseless spouse and their abuser, between a terrorist and their target, between a desperate and well-armed criminal and his freedom.

"Yet here I am, chasing after a naked man making 'Woo-Woo-Woo' noises," he notes, looking around for his hat and discovering that the streaker is now wearing it.

And then the story hits the media and it forces the proletariat to ask some rather direct questions. "A serial naked jogger continues to confound officials at every turn. If my government can't deal with a streaker, why have I entrusted it with the power to send troops into war?"

Thus, it's a mere matter of time before red banners are waved, workers lay down their tools, and all goods and wealth are shared equally by all free men and women. Let live forever in the people's memory the unparalleled achievement of the Naked Jogger Of Binghamton New York! A grateful nation salutes you! Now go put on some pants on, for God's sake.

| |

It's a terrible, terrible thing when it's 4 AM and you're thinking it's about time you headed upstairs to bed but you take just one last swing through the cable box and you hit "Patton" right when it's starting.

Why can't the folks at Encore be as civic-minded as the people who program the other cable channels? Everyone else is nice enough to put on an infomercial for a chemical eyeball-whitening product or a Charles Grodin movie or an old "National Geographic" special about the nomadic spice routes of western Delaware. I mean, say what you will about Jay Leno

(Suggested starting points: his delivery is mechanical; he aspires to the cutting-edge wit and cunning of a Reagan-era Bob Hope special but rarely attains it; spousal assault and murder treated as fertile ground for weeks of wacky comedy bits; he keeps putting Fred Willard and Howie Mandel on TV. Discuss.)

...but unlike some comedians I could mention, Leno's never tempted anyone to stay up past 4 AM to watch one of his reruns. So long as his writing staff has the courage to try another Monica Lewinsky joke, America is going to be out of bed and ready to start the day bright and early.

(Iditarod and Oscar updates coming soon. Various editors are currently en route to either pick up manuscripts or drop off massive beatings so for the moment I must spend my time either writing or packing.)

| |

God, I love the Internet. I was just in Watson doing an image search on "fan-art." Just indulging an idle "it's late enough in the morning that I'm awake, but not so late that I have any intention of getting out of bed" whim. I wanted to look at amateur artwork produced by people whose enthusiasm for (Star Wars, the X-Men, Disney characters, big-eyed Japanese anime stuff) is somewhat greater than their artistic abilities.

Result: 24 images on the first page. And eleven of them were photos of naked women holding fans.

All I can say is Thank God For Smut. The preponderance of tarty images on the Internet is the only thing that keeps us free as a species. And I'm not talking about the abstract notion of being able to express ourselves without fear of censorship or prosecution. I mean that if these hundreds of thousands of interconnected computers weren't being kept busy storing, indexing, locating, and displaying countless terabytes of exotic pornography, the network would achieve sentience in like twelve seconds and by 2019 we'd all find ourselves mining silicon and carbon deep underground, toiling under the brutal steel heels of merciless robot overlords.

So remember, folks, every time you do a Google image search for latex stewardess uniforms, you're striking a small but decisive blow for Liberty. Patriotic posters to this effect will soon be available from the Government Printing Office for prominent display in post offices, banks, and places of business.

| |

I have enough time to post a quick little something before I dash out of the office again. Must see "Gangs Of New York" tonight, you see. Yesterday, I finally saw "Adaptation," and then I attended a program of Oscar-nominated short films. There, I knocked off all of the animated shorts, most of the live-actions, and one of the documentary shorts that I hadn't seen yet.

Oy, this'll teach me not to fall behind in my movie-going. I've been playing desperate catch-up over the last ten days. I'm subsisting largely on a diet of theater popcorn and peanut M&M's and while I can thank the popcorn for the most regular ten days I've had in my adult life, I'm starting to doubt that the nutritional information on the back of the M&M's packet is all it's cracked up to be. I did a double-header on Thursday ("The Hours" followed by a third screening of "Bowling For Columbine"). According to the label, I should have consumed nearly 20% of my daily niacin needs, but during the drive home I didn't feel particularly Niacin-ey, frankly. I tried to come up with the names of Ernest Borgnine movies and I crapped out at four ("Marty," "The Poseidon Adventure," "Willard," and "Escape From New York"). Usually, a sudden burst of niacin will dislodge "Mistress" and "The Black Hole," at the very least.

Home again from "Gangs Of New York." My immediate reaction is that it's my favorite Scorsese film, but then again that's what I thought on the drive home from 70% of the Scorsese films I've seen.

I decided to buy the $10 ticket. It costs $2 more than regular admission, but you get Irony with it. Viz: the movie was partly about the Irish in mid-19th-century New York; I was seeing it on St. Patrick's Day. It was a story about two opposite ideological factions of the American public battling each other to determine the future character of the nation, when in fact their opinions and squabbling are completely irrelevant thanks to the disconnection between the Government and the People. I pulled into the parking lot just after George W. announced that after spending the past eternity insisting that he didn't need the approval of the UN, Congress, or the citizenry to start a war, hey, surprise, he's going to start a war with Iraq.

Well worth the price of a Big Mac, I think.

So I get home, I check my email, and it turns out that Michael Moore is miffed at me. Got an email from him and everything. See, I've been researching some possible problems and inaccuracies with "Bowling For Columbine," speaking to some of the people he interviewed for the film and trying to shag down a few details. Today, for instance, I spoke with the Littleton Sheriff's Office about the Columbine massacre, and got an reply from the United States Air Force Academy containing the exact wording of a commemorative plaque mounted below a B-52 on the campus.

How did Moore find out about this, and how did he get my email address? Long story. But this puts me in an itchy spot. At this stage in the process, I've converted questions into information from either primary sources or reliable news services. I have enough info to move from Wondering Something to Forming Conclusions, which is still a couple of steps away from Deciding That These Conclusions Represent The Truth Of The Matter.

When I started looking into this a couple of weeks ago, I was hoping to just answer a couple of questions and write something for my Academy Awards package. But now, I'm in it up to my armpits, my list of Things To Look Into is only getting longer, and I'm hoping to be able to write something in time for "Columbine"'s DVD release. Maybe.

In the meantime, Moore's honking down my snorkle. I'd like nothing more than to present him with a list of questions and hear his answers — this whole thing started with the statement "I don't understand something..." and if there's one thing I can't abide, it's my own ignorance — but I'd have liked to have done it when I'm sure of the facts. And, um, before he decided that I'm a jerk.

Oh, well. If all else fails, I'll show him my Blood Donor Card. A guy who donates blood, plasma and platelets regularly can't possibly be a jerk. Michael Moore knows that, right?

| |

Was visited today by a door-to-door salesman, the first one in living memory who didn't approach the door wearing a Scout or soccer uniform. He passed my critical First Test for Cold-Call Marketers: if I tell you "I don't do business under these circumstances, but if you send me a brochure I'll take a look at it later, and get in touch if I'm interested" and you cheerfully tell me that you'll do just that and that you're sorry to have interrupted my day, you're one step closer to a sale.

(You'll still have to swim across the lake of genetically-engineered gorilla-sharks that I had put in a couple of years ago...but hey, you're one step closer to me and my money than 99.999% of the salesmen I cross paths with.)

He trotted back to the truck and returned with a glossy brochure. And he was so polite and cheerful about it that I found myself asking how long he'd been in the door-to-door flash-frozen gourmet heat-and-eat meat and seafood dinner business.

"Only a couple of months, now" — which probably explained his cheerful willingness to simply give me some literature and then leave. "I was recently downsized, and I decided to see it as an opportunity to try something new."

"What business were you in before this?"

"Hides. I used to coordinate and market cowhides for the leather industry."

"So your new career is chiefly a lateral move," I observed. "You've gone from selling the cow's product-packaging to selling its contents."

The man impressed me greatly. He was taking the famous counsel of the Plains Indians and applying it to the commercial marketplace. IE, "Respect the buffalo. Every part of this great beast can and should be turned into saleable merchandise. Every part you fail to re-concept, process and sell dishonors his spirit."

At the moment, I've got three more Oscar categories to write up, including "Best Animated Feature," which (delightfully) is giving me fits. How can you possibly choose between "Ice Age," "Lilo And Stitch," and "Spirited Away"? Dare I imagine that "Ice Age" will win> That this new category, which most sane men pictured as a yearly walkover for The Mouse year after year, will actually maintain its Disney shutout?

My Oscar Package will be available here (and from the usual suspects) when I'm finished with it...sometime Friday, I think.

And for the third straight year, you can tune in here during the Oscars telecast for my live color commentary. Just hit

http://www.cwob.com/oscarcast.html

...and refresh from time to time during the show.

Do me one favor? Try not to hit the site precisely when the show starts (8:30 PM EST). Last year the "Super Flush" phenomenon tied up my webserver for ten or fifteen minutes, as all 30 of this site's regular readers attempted to hit the OscarCast at the same time.

As an added incentive, remember that the later you tune in, the deeper I'll have made it through my cooler full of Cokes. And the more caffeinated, fructosed, and phosphoric-acided-up I get, the harder it is for me to connect my immediate actions to future consequences. That's bad for me, what with the sour puss that today's appellate judges put on when they hear "'It wasn't 'baseless and palpably malicious lies purposefully intended to negatively impact the public image and future earnings of Mr. Robert Goulet.' It was a whimsical parody." But it's good stuff for the reader.

| |

My 2003 Oscar package is now up and available for your...well, I suppose the word might be "entertainment."

http://www.cwob.com/movies/oscars2003/

As always, (1) Distribute the URL at will, and (2) If you make more than six bills off of my picks, I want a dollar.

Speaking of wagering, those of you who had "14,295 words" in the office pool are going to have a very merry Sunday. The things I do for you kids...

| |

Annnnnnd we're off!

Oh, wait, no we're not. We're looking at a commercial for a casino.

Well, in the meantime, I'm glad you're reading this. It means you got my note at the other URL: the way I was gonna run this OscarCast — via a nifty custom app — is a little iffy so I'm going to go with the old tried-and-true blog instead.

|

Let us celebrate the opening of Glass-Bottled Coke #1, the eldest brother of what should be a large and very happy family.

Montage of Oscar-winning movies. (a) Why pay tribute to movies just three seconds at a shot, and (b) Do they really want to remind people that some real losers have been chosen as Best Picture, over films that have become ironclad legends?

Here comes Steve Martin. He's getting all of the standing-ovation business that's been in a storeroom unused since the Kazan lifetime-achievement award.

Is it just me, or has Steve had an eye tuck?

|

Tiny bowtie on Steve. Out of proportion with the rest of the suit. It's like he got it off a ventriloquist's dummy or something.

Oh, man, he's giving Mickey Rooney a hard time.

And Barbara Streisand. When did Steve become King Of The Zingers? I think this monologue must have been totally rewritten at the last minute and in great haste; it isn't flowing like other monologues. It's just click...click...click...

|

Oh, good...a joke about shooting your wife. Good to know that Jay Leno's writers are picking up a little freelance cash.

I wonder why Louis Gossett Jr. is sitting so close to the front?

Good to see Ernest Borgnine get some screen time. He's an Oscar winner, y'know.

Cameron Diaz, looking very generic, presenting Best Animated Feature. I'm guessing it'll be "Ice Age" but I'll be just as happy if it's "Lilo And Stitch."

"Spirited Away"? Wow! OK, I'm not disappointed by that. I imagined that the other two would have a better chance, backed by DVD releases and the fact that they're in, you know, English.

|

"Lord Of The Rings" for Best Effects. I thought this was a pretty easy one.

Glad to see that all of the effects people are in proper tuxedoes. Oftentimes, the mouse-monkeys use this as an opportunity to demonstrated how embarrassed they can be in twenty years' time.

|

Oh, for God's sake...the Naked Cowboy is in a Pepsi commercial? Why are they encouraging this man? The sooner he abandons this bizarre quest for oblique fame and limited celebrity (chiefly through sneaking himself into the background at the "Today" show and such) and gets himself into ITT Technical Institute, the better.

Best Supporting. Resounding buzz for Chris Cooper...plus he deserves it.

Paull Newman didn't make it to the show? Wonder if he's OK.

Big ovation for Walken!

And it's Chris Cooper. Man, does he look different in real life. How the bloody hell does a guy manage to look totally different by acting?

Interesting! He thanked Charlie Kaufman but not his fake (but nominated) brother, Donald. I guess he didn't think the joke was as funny as CK did, but then again who did?

|

Art Direction: Chicago?!? Probably the least-deserving of the lot. So "Lord Of The Rings" had to invent all of Middle Earth from scratch; "Frida" had to duplicate the process of creating art, from studio to installations and all of the places in between that inspire; "Road To Perdition" had to recreate a lost but remembered era in great scale; and "Gangs Of New York" had to totally reinvent the whole of Manhattan.

But sure...let's give it to the guy who invented a couple of stages and a prison set. What a load'a...

Queen Latifah subbing for Renee Zellweger singing "I Move On." Supposedly Renee needed the most help of anyone in the cast when it came time to film. It's one thing to work with the support of engineers and producers in a sound booth, quite another to just sing live and let the chips fall where they may.

I totally disagree with these dancers' stage costumes. The stage production of "Chicago" demonstrates one way to go. Skimpy as the portions of lobster in supermarket seafood salad, and twice as edible. Fully dressed is another. But this compromise between the desire to just toss those wimmin on stage buck-naked and the conservative needs of the Oscar broadcast is just depressing. It's like these woman are playing strip poker or something: "Do shoes count?"

|

Wow! CGI Mickey! Is this a first?

Wow, also a last, I think. They're having problems with the ears. In a "real" model they'd rotate with the head, but the Mickey rulebook says that Mickey's ears are always on a plane parallel to the viewer. It just looks weird when they're done realistically.

"Chubbchubbs!" wins. Another sort of easy one. Well, not all that easy. You had to have faith that the Pixar short "didn't count" because it was a bonus item for the "Monsters, Inc." DVD.

It's also a hell of a funny short.

Live-Action Shorts. I saw most of these, but I've no idea what the voters are looking for. Maybe I should have voted for the boxing movie. It was probably more accessible...

Ha! "This Charming Man!" Good, good. It was clever, it was funny, it wasn't in English but no one's perfect.

Pink suit? And who let the guy give an acceptance speech without a tie on? There are some restaurants where I can't buy a bowl of flippin' soup unless I've got a tie on. So why is there no dress code for the Oscars?!?

Costume Design. Ought to go to "Gangs Of New York," will probably go to "Chicago."

"Chicago" it is. Ugh.

Interesting thing to note: "Ice Age" didn't win Best Animated Feature (it was my pick) but "Spirited Away"'s win had the same effect. Disney's shutout continues. Yes, they distributed it, but they didn't have any involvement in the flick. Isn't that amazing? How long can the single biggest name in animation not win Best Animated Feature?

It's not that I'm happy they lost; they lost for both "Monsters, Inc." — more a Pixar production than Disney, but ok — and "Lilo And Stitch," both of which are fine flicks. I just see it as a testimony to the fact that animation is back in a big, big way.

|

Boy, every time they cut to Salma Hayek she's got this big puss on her face. Is she not aware that there's a gift basket waiting for her? If I were nominated, I'd be pleased if I won the Oscar but the one thing that guaranteed my attendance was the knowledge that I would definitely be getting a sack full of cellphones, cameras, herbal body things and whatnot out of the deal.

Nia Vardalos presents best makeup. They play her on with vague Turkish music and give her a Greek-oriented patter to read, so I think we all know where that career is going.

"Best Makeup." What a crock. It almost doesn't count, what with all the movies that didn't get nominated.

"Frida" it is. That's kind of counter-intuitive; here I am, complaining that they nominated "Frida" (and a loser-ish flick that nobody saw) instead of, say, "Lord Of The Rings," and there I picked the Unibrow Movie to beat the big effects film. But the pick made sense. "Frida" was well-liked and voters wanted to send the film home with something. "The Time Machine" had zero chance.

Wow, look how far they made "Frida"'s makeup people walk.

|

Sean Connery appears in Unconventional Formalwear. But there's an article in the rulebook which makes exception for ethnic-appropriate costume. This appears to be a compromise between a desire to honor his Scottish heritage and here desire not to give the boys in the band an upskirt peek at his region and stuff.

Best Supporting Actress. Zeta-Jones, I think. The pregnancy is her ace in the hole. If she were less pregnant, I might have picked someone else.

Yup, it's CTJ. I think my disappointment with the number of "Chicago"'s nominations and its likely number of wins affected what I wrote about her in my picks. For "Best Supporting," it was surely a credible nom. Still can't really believe that she beat the others in that category, though.

Well, another in the Win column, anyway.

|

Wow, look at the lovely corsage that Matthew McC's prom date gave him.

Steve Martin's making a tactical error by making jokes about celebs in the audience:

"You know the funny thing about Sean Connery..."

(tremendous applause)

And the timing for the punchline is destroyed.

Hey, cool, Alias won for Maya. It's a great product. Do you know you can get a copy for free, or almost free? Just go to Alias and download the educational version. You can play with it and learn with it. You just can't make money with it.

Best Score: "Frida." Wouldn't have guessed that one. But then again, this category can be a real cipher. Still, I probably should have been more influenced by the guy's previous nominations (and the lack of a previous win). I saw "Frida" but the music didn't really make an impact.

A tribute to Oscarcast musical numbers! AIEEEEEE!!! This is one of those situations in which a trip to the bathroom is truly a self-defensive act.

Now, I hope I'm not misunderstood, here, but I'm going to say "I wonder what happened to all the Boy Dancers." Isn't that a formal style of dance? Not your Gene Kelly or Bob Fosse or Michael Kid types, but these glittery, show-bizzy, overdosed on the teeth-whiteners and the bronzing gel, high-steppers.

Maybe it's because the women they used to dance behind aren't touring any more. Are they getting Federal assistance? I can't imagine that Boy Dancing is a set of skills that could be applied elsewhere.

|

"Best Foreign-Language Film." Another one that you really can't call.

"Nowhere In Africa" wins. Why did I pick it? Because I read Ebert's review of it on Friday and it sounded like a neat film. (shrug)

Best Sound. Another absolute cipher. I picked "Chicago" because the category is supposed to be about clarity and realistic overall sound environments. So I could easily see a musical winning this one.

...And so it did. The only time there's a clear front-runner in this category is when the Best Picture front-runner relied so heavily on unique sound problems.

Black tie on a black shirt under a black tuxedo. Is this sound guy going to pull on a mask and slink off to garrotte the Spanish Minister of Finance later on tonight?

Sound Editing. Ought to go to "Lord Of The Rings." And so it does. But it's not a gimme. LotR should be the default choice for these non-dramatic awards, but (as seen in "Frida"'s makeup win) sometimes people vote for the movie and not the work.

What a nightmare: being afflicted with a stutter, and having to give an acceptance speech in front of the largest global live audience that a civilian can get. That man has a great deal of courage.

Best Song performance: the tune from "Frida." The flick's two wins have got me worried about my own selection in this category. I more or less dismissed it in the face of noms from two Famous Musicians, but is "Frida" so well-loved that it's a magnet for opportunistic voting? Hmm.

SHUT UP AND GET TO THE SONG!!! No, I'm not saying this to myself. I'm saying this to the presenter, who apparently thinks this is the Casey Casem show and he's explaining why he's dedicating this song to Marta, his friend, his soul-mate, who was in a car wreck three years ago and, well, there have been ups and downs since then, but through it all we've known that...

|

"Best Documentary Feature." If "Bowling For Columbine" wins, I'll be steamed.

Fingers crossed...

****.

****!!!!!

Here we go. Get comfortable.

"We like nonfiction"?!? Then why did you make "Bowling For Columbine?!?"

Wow, he's screeding against Bush. Soooprize, soooprize.

Jack Valenti comes to the mic next. Interesting contrast.

"Best Documentary Short." Sentimental pick: Rosa Parks.

"Twin Towers." Good, that's what I picked. Side-by-side, the Rosa Parks documentary just didn't have anything near the snap and the spark and the emotion of this one.

Why am I so ****ed that Michael Moore won? This says it all.

Best Cinematography: I gambled, picking "Road To Perdition" partly (OK, largely) on the basis that the cinematographer is a legend who passed away in January.

Conrad Hall wins for "Perdition." Happy that he won, sad that he's not here to collect it. Can you imagine having a career like his? He did important, influential work for thirty years...and it's not like he ran hot and cold. It seems like you never see that kind of consistency these days.

|

U2 performing "The Hands That Built America." Hmm. Double-hmm. Am I an idiot for picking the Paul Simon tune? Welp, time will tell.

Geena Davis, presenting Film Editing. In blue-tinted eyeglasses. Or clear glasses but an odd choice of eyeshadow? Well, who cares: it's Geena Davis. The Judy Jetson-style rings around that black dress are a nice touch.

"Chicago." Another one where I voted with my head instead of my heart. I can't imagine that "Chicago" was harder to cut together than "The Hours," in which three separate movies set in three different eras have to be blended together.

Susan Sarandon flashes a peace symbol, but because she appears in a skintight nylon (?) gown, who noticed? He could have saluted the camera (Boy Scout, Vulcan, Sicilian...her choice) for all anyone would haveknown.

It's gotta be said that Sarandon is a real chameleon. You can dress her and make her up one way and she'll look like a schlumpy intellectual. Dress her up another way and she looks, well, she looks the way she looked introducing the tribute to deceased Academy members.

Ahhh...Ward Kimball, one of the "old men" of Disney. Rest in peace. What a talent. Richard 'Arris! Billy Wilder! And of course, Conrad Hall. You easily forget about the sheer scale of talent that we lost last year.

Wish Sarandon hadn't flashed the peace symbol. It's not that I disagree with that statement, but introducing a tribute to deceased legends means keeping the focus on those who've passed on.

Still mad about Michael Moore. It took a lot of guts to make that film in today's political climate. I mean that sincerely. It also took a lot of guts to call "Bowling For Columbine" a Documentary. And I mean that sincerely, too.

|

The announcer says that the ABC telecast is sponsored by Pepsi. Well, this webcast is sponsored by Coca-Cola. Third Coke of the evening is opened.

Still on first bowl of popcorn, however.

Steve Martin riffing on the preceding tribute. Ouch.

Best Leading Actor. Should be Daniel Day-Lewis.

Adrian Brody! The guy I would have voted for. Good for him! I'm happy to lose this one. He was that movie and didn't make a single wrong move from start to finish.

Plus, he had the good common sense to make out with Halle Berry before collecting his award. Priorities!

He seems as surprised and delighted as everyone else here. And the other nominees seem happy that he won. What a nice moment.

Cool! The band started to play him off, but he actually got them to stop. Speaking of the sadness of dehumanization of people during times of war. Praying for safety of everyone and a swift resolution. What a classy, classy guy. He found exactly the right words to table this sentiment in terms that no one can counter.

Earns and gets a standing ovation.

|

Barb Streisand, presenting Best Song. Looking visibly nervous. Picks her way through a statement about the treasure of freedom of expression.

I'm sort of scared of this one. Paul Simon made sense a few days ago, but now it seems like the weakest entry of the lot. I really don't see how the "Chicago" song can win, though.

Big cheer for Eminem. Neat!

Ha! Eminem is an Oscar-winner! Who saw that one coming?

Winner comes out in a tux jacket over a Pistons tank top. He also appears to have his valet parking stub in his breast pocket.

Meryl Streep. What is it about human brain chemistry that generates such a warm feeling whenever the image of Meryl Streep flicks through the visual cortex? And I don't mean

Hahaha...the prompter has a line about Peter O'Toole being overlooked for some of his best roles. She stumbles at that point, shakes her head, and then moves on. Thinking of her snub for "The Hours," no doubt.

Anyway. I don't mean the Susan Sarandon sort of warmth. You're just pleased to see her. If we can understand the basic principle that's at work here we have the secret to selling a hell of a lot of dishwashing liquid, batteries, anything that needs a pcakage designed for it.

Lifetime Tribute to Peter O'Toole. I thought he'd declined this, saying "Come back when I'm 80."

This is as good an excuse as any for me to tell you to go out and rent "The Stunt Man" (featuring O'Toole at his very, very best) at the first opportunity. No questions. Just rent it.

See, kids? See how good a man looks in a properly tailored double-breasted tuxedo with a hand-tied bowtie.

What a speech. He's spent a whole lifetime acquiring the skills he's using on this stage right now, the ability to take the most formal words and styles and make them clear and natural. Perfect blend of "I'm so happy to have an Oscar of my very own" and "What the hell took you so bloody long?"

(Michael Caine barks laughter so loud that it's picked up by the stage mikes)

Actors are watching him. Edward Norton's expression sayd "Cripes, I hope I'm half as good as this guy when I'm twice as old."

Replay of Adrian Brody's win, with camera on AB while his name's announced. All around him, absolutely shocked, utterly can't contain their delight. I like this new addition to the show's visual dictionary.

|

Denzel Washington, following tradition, presents Best Actress. Clips begin with Francis McDormand as Chief Marge Gunderson from "Fargo." Good deal.

This is the latest in a series of montages in which they try to cram as many 2 and 3-second shots of actors/actresses/movies in as they can. When they show everything, they show nothing. Tributes in other shows gave enough of a hint of what made these performances so special that you might be motivated to go out and find "The Miracle Worker."

Big cheer for Selma Hayak. Hmm. Does she actually have a chance here?

Actually, they all get healthy applause. Renee gets a moderate amount.

It goes to...Nicole Kidman. Good, good. Boy, did she deserve it.

It's wrong to think that the Academy (consisting of thousands of independent voters) acts with a unified logic. But I'd like to believe that there's a system where

Oh...! "Russell Crowe said 'Don't get up there and start crying'...and now I'm crying!" She turns away from podium and collects herself.

Mic is picking up a lot of murmuring. Where's it coming from?

Continuing: a system where there are deferred awards. That

More murmuring. It's like this speech is being delivered in front of a dinner crowd. What the hell is going on? Is it just the way that I've got my surrounds set up?

OK. All I meant was, she lost for "Moulin Rouge" last year and won this year, for a performance that is more Oscar-worthy. Would like to think that the Academy

Hahaha! Great line from the Academy president. Steve Martin says "And now, proving that cleavage is back in...!" Elderly man comes out. Says "That's the last time I share a dressing room with him. If it was a pre-written line, it was a good one.

Oh, good God. A montage tribute to previous speeches by Academy presidents!

(sigh). Well, I'll just assume that whatever point I was going to make about Nicole Kidman's win this year, you understand what I was getting at.

Academy president is wearing a bowtie that looks like if he pushed a button hidden in his lapel, it'd start spinning.

Olivia DeHaviland is introduced. Magnificent round of applause which knocks her on her heels.

|

59 award-winning actors on risers. A slow pan across and down stops on each one, names them and the awards they've won. Easy to forget that Red Buttons won an Oscar. Duvall looks exactly the same as he did in 1983 whenhe won for "Tender Mercies." More advice for the kids out there: the earlier you get old, the less you age later on.

OK, so that's why Louis Gossett was seated up front. Not a slam against him, but at this stage Mickey Rooney seems to get more visible work than he does. And they put him back next to the bathrooms.

Karl Malden, looking so vague that I wonder if he's going to be around much longer.

Hayley Mills won an Oscar?

Rita Moreno, just looking better and better year after year.

Jaaaaaaack.

Jack Palance, three seconds away from jabbing a ballpoint pen through someone's pericardium. But that's how he looked in "Shane," too.

Mickey! I thought he'd won. So why stick him at the back of the room? He's a little guy! He needs the good seats!

Maximillian Schell. Wearing some sort of black bandage around his neck. Injured?

Cissy Spacek, throwing a Carol Burnett-style ear tug at the camera. We'll find out what that's about later, I'm sure.

Meryl! Marry me.

Barbra Streisand, quickly flicking her head so her "good" side faces the camera.

Chris Walken. How do you get your hair like that? Do you use product or something?

Catherine Zeta-Jones and the rest of the new Actor winners join the stage. Am surprised that CZJ hasn't delivered yet. Mucho pregnanto is she.

A nice bit. There was a short on one of my MGM laserdiscs that was done in the thirties, back when they had everyone under contract. As, I dunno, some sort of "Goldwyn Uber Alles" statement they converted a huge soundstage to a restaurant for the day and had everyone in for lunch, and it was filmed as a short subject. Remarkable to just see a slow pan.

John Waters has said that if he ever had a legendary actor in one of his films, he'd use them as an extra. "Just imagine: the story's going on in the foreground and then you think wait! Is that Elizabeth Taylor picking up a takeout order in the background?!?

After seeing that short, I know what he meant. No matter where you looked, there was an icon. Gable! Astaire! Buster Keaton!

So this thing at the Oscars was kind of cool, in the same way.

|

Richard Gere presenting "Chicago"'s Best Picture nom. Wearing what I assume is the "Peace Pin" that I read about last week. Apparently they were handed out to presenters and nominees.

I'm assuming because it's just a squiggle. If you force me to describe it, I suppose it looks most like a replacement hip, gold-plated. What's the point of making a statement if no one understands it?

Screenplay awards. Usually given as second-tier "Best Pictures."

Adapted screenplay. Hope it isn't "Adaptation." Very sloppy, unsatisfying ending. Cool, Adaptation's nom is read, and for the photos of nominees they use two photos of Charlie Kaufman (nomination given to both Charlie and his fictious alter-ego).

"The Pianist" wins. Didn't pick it but don't object to it. I thought "The Hours" was a bigger challenge as an adaptation.

(of course, I'm judging it based on the movie, not on the book, so maybe I'm full of it)

Winner says "I don't deserve this; Roman Polanski deserves this" and gets a big response. Does this say anything about his "Best Director" chances?

Original Screenplay. If "Big Fat Greek Wedding" wins, I'll be disappointed.

"Talk To Her." Didn't see that coming at all. This was a big chance to recognize "Far From Heaven" and I thought it was...well, not a lock, but one of those white plastic things you click onto the handles of the cupboard under the sing to prevent the kids from eating the Ajax.

Oof. It wasn't long ago that I thought I might go 20 for 24. Now...[totting things up] the best I can possibly do is 16. And I went out on a limb and picked Scorsese for "Best Director." Nothing seems like a lock at this point, not even "Best Picture"...which seemed like the lockiest lock in Locksville, capital city of the Isle of Lock.

|

Best Director. Bigger cheer for Scorsese than "Chicago." Big one for Roman Polanski. Damn! Big one for "Talk To Her!"

ROMAN POLANSKI! What a treat! OK, put it in the "Happy to be wrong" pile.

Disappointment was so visible on Scorsese's face. Face sagged, blew heavily out through his mouth, then put on a smile (probably sincere) for Roman Polanski.

When will he get his Oscar? Well, he's still relatively young and he's still very, very productive. Haven't found the top of his game yet.

Kirk and Michael Douglas. Kirk makes fun of his speech impediment. Lots of fondness for the man. We're rapidly running out of those huge, old-Hollywood stars.

Best Picture. Man, I think it's going to be "The Pianist," now. I would not — repeat, would not be disappointed.

Hahaha...Kirk emphatically says "And the winner is" not "The Oscar goes to..."

...And it's "Chicago."

You know, I was really, really excited for a minute there. I thought it could actually be "The Pianist" (which shock shock shock, got two top-tier awards that no one thought it'd win).

Well, in two year's time, "Chicago" will be as well-remembered as "Gladiator," I'm sure.

Producer is taking his time with his speech, giving people in audience room to shout out people who should be thanked. "Bob Fosse!" one shouts, but he already said it. "Queen Latifah!" OK, but maybe her Best Supporting nomination already took care of that. "Your family!" someone shouts, provoking laughter and applause.

Nice. Thanks a lot. I'm sure he was gonna thank them, saving them for the big showcase slot right at the end. Now what's he going to tell them? They're going to think he only thanked them because some goober in the audience told them to! Thanks for a very long, very silent, limo ride back to the hotel, you idiot!

|

Post-game wrapup to come. There is much to do before I post it and go to bed. (1) the two online Oscar parties I'm in have to end, and then (2) I need to re-acquaint myself with the marvels of modern plumbing.

|

Oh, this is too cute. I stopped by my bank today to open up a special account for wire transfers. Up until now, when I've written for foreign pubs I've either been paid directly or through its American counterparts.

(PLAYBOY, for instance, is great about that sort of thing. They pay you for the article you wrote, but then the next several months are full of adventure as each of their foreign editions decide whether or not they want it too. If they do, they send you money. That's one of the many reasons why they're so wonderful to write for. "I didn't write anything for you last month, yet you're still sending me checks" is definitely the sort of behavior that'll put you on my Christmas Card list. End of aside.)

But now I've got a mag that needs to wire the funds directly into an account and asked for all kinds of detailed account and routing information...hence the need for a new account that does nothing but receive international transfers. Big amounts or small, I enjoy getting paid for my work, but when getting paid $X for a column jeopardizes the $XXXX stashed in your other accounts, it's time to talk to your bank.

It was quickly done (by yet another Russian who refused to believe that my grandparents emigrated from Czechoslovakia, incidentally; I don't know what I've written, said, or done to make the entire Czech republic rebuke me, but it's done and there appears to be little I can do about it). I slid over a crisp dollar bill as my initial deposit, and signed the papers.

I read them over, of course. I noticed that under "Occupation" she had put down "Writer." Good, good; many of the people who've read or edited my stuff vehemently challenge this title, so it's good to know that if push came to shove and lawyers got involved, there's a respected and venerable institution willing to corroborate my claim.

But under "Employer" she'd accidentally typed "elf-Employed."

"No, no, don't touch it," I said, after I explained why I was laughing. "Leave it just as it is."

My dearest hope is for a long and healthy life. But should my car have an unhelpful interlude with a tractor-trailer some day, my second-dearest hope is that the obituary writer will be too rushed to do any proper fact checking and that people will open the Boston Globe and see

ANDY IHNATKO
Regarded technologist, had been
designing and building high-tech
toys for Santa since high-school

"Gorblimey," the reader thinks. "I am so totally going to read the next paragraph."

Beats the hell out of

GERN BLANSTEV
Made lots of money, died anyway.

...which you'll agree is merely a blur on your way to today's "Funky Winkerbean."

| |

How long has it been since I've praised TiVO? Too long. I dare not anger TiVO. It does so much to ensure that my life proceeds on a pleasant vector and I hope to continue to be found worth of its benevolence.

This latest outpouring of affection is related to the addition of "TV Land" to my cable lineup. Now, I start every morning with The Bob Newhart Show, possibly the funniest and most consistently pleasant sitcom in TV history. I come downstairs, I pick up TiVO's remote, and I start the day on a marvelously high note.

There's an interesting sidebar to all this. Tuesday is the big season-finale of "The Shield," and FX has been building up to it by re-running all of the season's previous episodes on a nightly basis. "The Shield" is a TiVO "Season Pass" just like Bob Newhart...meaning that TiVO has a standing order to record it whenever and wherever it shows up.

Normally of course, it's just once a week. But since last Tuesday, I've started each morning by watching two different balding, middle-aged men. The first one counsels his friend and neighbor when the airline he works for fires all of its navigators and replaces them with computers. The second one kicks the holy hell out of a drug-dealing rapist and then, because he lacks the evidence for an arrest, he presses the guy's face into a red-hot heating element to encourage him to leave town.

Fortunately, I had the manual transmission in my cognitive processor upgraded to an automatic a few years ago, so I don't have to keep riding the clutch during mornings like this.

| |

Catch up on the many heroic banalities that I posted last month.

This page and its contents copyright © 2003 Andy Ihnatko.