5 Things to Take Away from the Oscars

The Oscars are a big deal to many a folk in the movie and fashion bizzes... but to me it sorta seems like a four hour wait for validation of your movie taste. The beauty of a four hour telecast is that there are inevitably highlights; four hours of Celebrity Apprentice 2 would eventually yield a golden nugget or two... its like the whole monkeys writing Shakespeare thing. Anyway, here are five things that left an impression on me last night.

1) I fell in love. Now my friends will verify that I echo this sentiment about once a week, but I think I mean it this time (not like last week at trivia, or two weeks before that at the Bruce Cover Band). Ryan Seacrest introduced me to Meryl Streep's stunning daughter, Louisa, on the red carpet last night. Sure Wikipedia says she was born in 1991 but love doesn't know math (that holds up in court right?). This is a girl right in my wheelhouse too (brunette girl next door, except her door is to a mansion and a meal ticket). Our relationship went past the red carpet as Louisa had a front row seat next to mommy, meaning lots of camera time all night. In 10 years I won't remember what Meryl was nominated for or if she won, but I will definitely remember her best supporting role.

(Honorable mentions of the night: Natalie Portman looked quit-everything-and-marry-me hot, Marisa Tomei was a knockout, Freida Pinto can do no wrong, and Taraji P. Henson was classically beautiful.)

2) The best presenters of the night were Natalie Portman and Ben Stiller. Natalie brought the aforementioned visuals and Ben took care of the laughs. Last night Stiller brought his Joaquin Phoenix out to play, but he has an arsenal of other impressions and comedic tools too. Couldn't Stiller go on for hours? If Billy Crystal (automatic first seed) doesn't want back in as host, Stiller HAS to be at the top of the short list of desired hosts (my list also has Neil Patrick Harris, Ellen, Tina Fey, and Will Ferrell).

3) The new way they presented the awards for the four acting categories was a homerun. The whole "just being nominated is a honor" thing we get every year has finally been validated. Just getting nominated isn't really an honor, but getting verbally felayshed by an expert certainly is. Losing to Kate Winslet probably would have been a bitter moment for Jolie, Streep and company if they hadn't been showered in praise by former winners. I don't know or care who wrote the plaudits but they were sincere, meaningful, and awards in themselves (that is unless Alan Arkin calls you Seymour Philip Hoffman, nice prep work ass). Maybe its not a tangible award but you're definitely going home with a souvenir.

4) Hugh Jackman's musical number with Beyonce has showed up on many worst of lists, but I thought it was a fun moment. The Academy put together montages for the romances and comedies of the year, so why not honor musicals too? I doubt Jackman's grand proclamation "The musical is back!" but I enjoyed the rest. I guess this is my public admission that I kinda, sorta, maybe like musicals (I even saw Mamma Mia in the theaters, but it was on a date... and yes, with a girl) not that there's anything wrong with that.

5) And speaking of "not that there's anything wrong with that," I think the lasting memory of the night, besides Louisa Streep of course, was the political statements and validation delivered with the wins of Milk. Best Actor Sean Penn and best original screenwriter Dusin Lance Black delivered proud, rousing speeches about the inequalities we still face in two drastically different tones. Black called for gay people to stand up proud, that they could all share this victory, while Penn scolded California's failed Prop 8 and the populous for a lack of justice. Maybe these words will spark political action and discourse or maybe they will just be tracks to nowhere, but methinks it will be the former. Eventually Slumdog Millionaire's prestige will fade just like most other best picture winners, but Milk's legacy on Oscar night may be a watershed moment we all remember.

Not Not Untitled Field Trip: UWC's Man O War

Three things you dont ever turn down: more food when you're breaking bread with Italians, a chance to punch Jeff van Gundy in the face (bonus points if its during a broadcast), and free tickets to an Mixed Martial Arts fight. Situation three presented itself to me last night so off I went to George Mason's Patriot Center for a UWC (Ultimate Warrior Challenge) event with a couple friends, a press credential, and zero MMA knowledge.

All I knew going in was that MMA fights occur in cages, sitting close meant I could get sprayed with blood, and that crotch shots were not cool (turns out they are also illegal). The event included 9 matches, with a co-main event, so it had that going for it. Upon arrival, we learned one participant in one of the main events had "no showed" for his weigh in that day and would not be attending. Umm ok... I know this isn't MMA's Superbowl but it's kind of your job and your name IS being used to sell the event. Whatever, maybe this stuff just happens here.

We found our seats on the floor about 40 feet away from the cage and almost immediately the Man O' War PR guy sidled up to us and promised seats inside the "bike rack" by the start of the second match. The "bike rack" is the inner circle (10 feet from the cage) apparently cordoned off for VIP's who bring prostitutes and fighter's posses. Even A-rod would have had a problem lying about how well we fit in.

The first few fights were entertaining. We got a first round knockout and a first round submission in the first two fights, and I figured we'd be back in DC within the hour. Wrong. Apparently I wasn't an expert yet.

The third match was a bout between two women, which would have made Title IX proud if the fight had received half of the attention that the ring girls were getting in between rounds. This was an interesting one because the underdog was horribly ugly, and the favorite was decent looking, plus you could see her underwear. Everyone loves an underdog, but doesn't everyone loves a hot chick even more? The women went three rounds of grind it out choke holds before a big upset for the uglier girl, but really everyone won since the hotter one spent most of the match with her red-pantied ass squished up against the fence. After that, a granola-y looking white boy who seemed to lack the bloodthirst I had determined was essential in winning, whooped the ass of a much fiercer looking guy. Apparently I wasn't an expert yet.

This marked the last match where we could be considered casual, estranged fans. We saw something we couldn't unsee, right in front of our faces, that would initiate us as MMA people. Fighter Ron Stalling's knee decimated Whisper Goodman's jaw and potentially lifetime motor skills. The knee met the jaw with uncanny crispness, and for a moment I was sure I had witnessed death. I was certain Whisper Goodman (a former Packer) was never getting back up. Ever. Apparently I wasn't an expert yet.

That click of his jaw and the thud of his momentarily lifeless body are sounds and images that are inescapable. It was surprisingly not like the highway crash you cant turn away from; we couldn't look as many (MANY!) trainers worked around him until he finally left.

In the meantime we are amusing ourselves as we sit behind a blogger for MMAOpinion.com who keeps minimizing his blog palette to reveal his laptop background screen of him and his wife posing prom-style in front of their Christmas tree. Laughter seemed to be the best medicine at the moment, unintentional comedy the maximum dosage. If you want to laugh more, check out our boy's recap of the event. And this guy had almost the highest credentials in the building.

The next couple fights were blurs, I was still a bit traumatized to watch attentively. We were also having fun discussing more unintentionally funny aspects of the night. In our discussion of entrance music we determined the best choice would be Steve Earle's "Way Down in the Hole", especially if you could immediately get the first high-hat cymbal notes of Blake Leyh's "The Fall" as soon as you finished off an opponent. Tell me that wouldn't get people to start taking you and your sport seriously. We also wondered about (read: made fun of) undercard wages, the evening's many sponsors, and the accuracy of the 6,248 attendance figure.

The co-main event matches lasted a combined three rounds (easy conversion- three yawns per round after the first) but the best fight of the night was the featherweight match, or as we called it, the jockey fight. Two men Kiefer Sutherland would have towered over were running and jumping and swinging away for three full rounds like a couple of hummingbirds pecking at each other. Our allegiances were originally with "The Pistol" because he entered to Sinatra's "My Way" but were quickly wooed by his opponent, "The Magician." I wish I could tell you it was due to his propensity for crazy jump punches and jump kicks, but those were just icing on the cake after he tweaked his nipples before the starting bell. What did we leave thinking? The MMA, its tweak-tastic!

Shaqtastic

I love Shaq, but there's no need for me to say it since I assume everyone in the world loves Shaq. I should have said we. He belongs on a list with Slumdog Millionaire, lobster tail, world peace, breasts, and money as things universally loved. Yesterday's NBA All Star Game serves as reason 1819 why Shaq is so great. If you didn't see it, Shaq, an All-Star reserve, was introduced with a scene bigger than any starter would ever have commanded. Check it out.

More about reason 1819: Today on PTI, Wilbon called it the greatest NBA All Star moment since Marvin Gaye's famous Star Spangled Banner in 1983. I have less history in my head than him, but couldn't agree more. Shaq can dance, like really dance, even better than he can dunk, rebound, act, joke, or rap. (Also it's a mahogany-smelling big deal because it made up for an atrocious All Star weekend. HORSE should have been euthanized like Eight Belles. The skills competition is contrived. The Dunk Contest lacks meaningful stars, relative creativity, and successful format.)

And I'm not just plugging up Shaq because I have a bunch of his rookie cards, which I really need to finally mature since my 401k couldn't buy a new pack of Upper Decks right now. If this truly was Shaq's final All Star performance, it was a final opus only a Big Diesel could have composed. The opening stanza of Jabberwocky dance would have been enough, but it was followed by a dunk-ridden, crescendo on the way to 17 points in 11 minutes. That culminated with the most important piece of all: one MVP stealing scene from Kobe Bryant. It was the basketball version of Scenes From an Italian Restaurant. He'll go out at the top (un-Favrian) like John Elway, Lou Gehrig's "Luckiest Man" speech, and the Christmas episode of the British Office.

The MVP timeshare between Kobe and Shaq was even more magnanimous due to the fact that Shaq publicly asked Kobe how his ass tasted last summer in an "impromptu" club rap. And then they were both holding a trophy as if it had never happened. This is the epitome of Shaq; he is so charismatic he could insinuate the debatably best player in the NBA knows the flavor of his butt and then months later stand toe to toe, arm in arm with the man without repercussion.

The Shaq list will likely go way past 1819 but I doubt any reason will ever surpass 1819 in quantity. How could it? But before I quit for the day, lets peruse some of 1819's predecessors...

#1- The first time I ever saw Shaq shatter a backboard... #22- The trivia of him being passed over on the Dream Team for Christian Laettner... #192- Shaq's rap CD, Shaq Diesel has a song that is still on my running mix (by the way he has five albums)... #341- Shaq starred in Blue Chips... #342- Shaq starred in Kazaam and then still landed other roles... #592- A method called 'Hack a Shaq' was created to minimize his dominance... #640- The Shaq-originated practice of watching the dunk contest with your camcorder and feigning shock and awe by falling on top of his neighbor upon every highlight... #718- Shaq was traded to Miami, promised a championship, and delivered it in two seasons... #719- Kobe never won a title without him... #913- During my junior year of college I asked Shaq a question in a postgame media scrum and he didn't treat it like a question from a 20 year old... #1045- Shaq's cameo on Curb Your Enthusiasm... #1269- Shaq's nickname fluidity: Big Daddy, Big Diesel, Big Cactus, Shaqtus, Shaq-Fu, etc... #1351- Shaq's utter dominance PR-wise over Kobe... #1407- Shaq became a volunteer sheriff in Florida and actually helped on a few arrests... #1516- Shaq had a huge circular bed on an episode of Cribs... #1602- The aforementioned Kobe rap... #1757- Shaq kills this commercial... #1812- Shaq unbelievable resurgence this season (17 pts 9 reb a game)

Celtics or Something Like Them

Everything you need to know about the Celtics you could have learned in the last three games. We lost at home to the Lakers in overtime, we beat the Knicks handily on the road, and we lost to the Spurs at home in the final minute. I don't want to get all Shaughnessy on you but if we expect the C's to match last years fate, we need to Obama this bitch, lets embrace change.

Two names that have been synonymous with the phrase "Celtics missing piece" have been Stephon Marbury and PJ Brown, but to me those pieces don't necessarily fit in this puzzle. Marbury is tumor, and while tumors can become benign, they are always tumors and potentially malignant at any turn(over). PJ Brown meanwhile is another year older, 39 going on 40, which is prime age for a bottle of scotch or a cougar at a bar, but not an NBA player. I think the years pile up on these athletes logarithmically like on golden retrievers or sweatpants and this last one year makes a big difference. Plus, isn't the PJ Brown desire is a one way street or wouldn't we have heard more refined scuttlebutt?

The two killer losses at home last week clearly demonstrated that we are missing the James Posey presence in all of its glory. On offense, his absence means Tony Allen gets wayyy too much playing time leading to a shot chart that looks like a game of Battleship. Defensively Posey's absence puts more pressure on Pierce, which. in turn, takes away from his offense. Tony Allen couldn't play in a James Posey cover band right now.

Anyway, we are going to have to get outside of the box and find some other applicants. The help wanted ad may look something like this:

2 Positions to be filled- One swingman who can spread the floor with a 15-23 foot jump shot and prior experience with defense or willingness to learn. One backup big man who can own post space on both ends of the floor and eat minutes when Perk and KG are in foul trouble.

Let's set a few rules for eligibility. We'll try to be realistic, in other words, the Celtics wont be a player in the Amare Stoudemire sweepstakes. The Lakers, Cavs, and Magic wont trade with the Celtics down the stretch, so I'm not considering any of their players. The Celtics have a huge payroll already so we can't eat a giant contract like Shawn Marion's. Here's a list of guys I'd have on my wish list if I was Danny Ainge:

• Jason Maxiell (PF-Det)- Maxiell is a bruiser who could improve from a defensive pep talk from KG. He's buried on the Pistons bench even behind Kwame Brown, the personal Mendoza line, even though Maxiell has produced for years.
• Andres Nocioni (SF-Chi)- A both sides of the ball help but carries a big paycheck owed. Not sure how to make the finances work, but the Bulls at the deadline are like that girl hanging around during last call, just waiting for someone to look at them the right way.
• Hakim Warrick (PF-Mem)- Warrick is defensive oriented, a big time shot changer, and shoots at a 47% clip. We wont be looking to him as an offense stud, but a reliable open shot maker.
• Eduardo Najera (SF-NJ)- Currently battling injury, but a veteran presence who can produce as a deep option on offense. Plus Wikipedia says he's known for his rebounding and defensive intensity, so you know it's gotta be true.
• Morris Peterson (SF-NO)- Another vet with an injury, but when healthy, a guy who can really contribute on offense. He has an unattractive contract, which could tempt the Hornets to send him packing.
• Tyson Chandler (C-NO)- His name is rumor-fodder at most deadlines because he still carries a deal-breaker contract. Last year's rejuvenation makes him desirable to man Celtics green, but at what price?
• Alando Tucker (SF-Phx)- A rookie smooth shooter, who the Suns are unlikely to give up on too quickly. He would help spread the floor on offense and hopefully could pick up defense from watching.
• Sergio Rodriguez (G-Por)- Kinda a wildcard here, but a good shooter who is frustrated with playing time. Again a young gun who is unlikely to be given up on so soon, and though the Celtics dont necessarily need another guard, this could be a nice spark.
• Channing Frye (PF-Por)- One year left at 3mil for a lifetime 45% shooter who can hit FTs and has experience, but never fit in with his teams. Now he's buried on the bench and is what we want Patrick O'Bryant to turn into.
• Matt Bonner (PF-San)- Nevermind, I'm still sick from seeing this GingerBalls light us up on Sunday.

Meanwhile, there's a chance the Celtics could fill a position in house: Bill Walker, the C's rookie out of Kansas State. We have the perfect opportunity to give him some burn at forward with KG and Ray in hopes of hastening his maturation. Meanwhile he has only played in seven games all year and doesn't even register as trade bait because no one has seen the kid. I dont think Ainge and Rivers know that one piece of the puzzle may lie under their noses. I'm endorsing Walker, Maxiell, Frye, and Rodriguez as the Celtics deadline targets. 

Goodbye Old Friend

This just not in: Scrubs stinks. Its terrible. It may not be the worst 30 minutes television has to offer (send thank you notes to "the can't be killed cockroach" Kath & Kim) but when I'm watching ABC from 9-10 on Tuesdays I feel like a Cheesehead watch Brett Favre this past year; its unrecognizable from its former self and has tarnished everything it had previously created.

Current day Scrubs is nothing that the old Scrubs used to be. Its not goofy or edgy, and its certainly not clever or innovative anymore. I've said it before but from 2001 when the show premiered until 2007 when the show died (or should have died a peaceful, respected death), Scrubs was the most enjoyable 30 minutes of television a week. Even now, having relished LOST, The Wire, and How I Met Your Mother, I do not waver about calling Scrubs, in its time, a masterpiece.

Success came from two places, the writing of the show and the entire ensemble cast. Everyone from Zach Braff to Sam Lloyd (who plays Ted, the lawyer) stood and delivered on a weekly basis. You cared about the plights of the headline characters as much as the fringe ones, but mostly they worked so well because of their cohesiveness (ala Friends). Seriously, I dare you to watch this episode (3 parts) from 2006 and tell me you've seen finer sitcom writing. This is my favorite episode of television ever, and nothing else you do for the next 22 minutes will be better. Now we seldom get the whole group together, and in this week's episode JD and Turk didn't have one scene together. Totally inexcusable.

Its sad to think that the same show I used to look forward to all week, is now down for the count, struggling for breath. Its uninspired, unfunny, and unaffecting, and the only thing it brings to the table is the occasional Sarah Chalke underwear shot. Sure there are tons of syndicated episodes daily to remind us of the good old days, but new Scrubs is Eight Belles down on the track at the Kentucky Derby; its Steve Martin in Pink Panther 2; its Brett Favre still not retired . I once really cared about the characters and their fates but now I just wish the show ended before next Tuesday, sparing further erosion, even if that means we never get an ending.

The Super (read: Mediocre) Bowl

While tonight's Super(ish) Bowl falls somewhere short of No Easy Way Out in Rocky IV in terms of inspirational, that doesn't mean it wont be a good game. Good offense versus great defense is potentially a great watch. I am not gonna break it down because A) I don't care too much B) The Cardinals are hard to predict C) There's five hours of pregame on ESPN and four more on NBC, but there are four things we can all look forward to today.

• Bruce Springsteen- While the excitement leading up to the Halftime performance always prevails over the actual act, The Boss has the potential to change all this. It was fun sending a bevy of Springsteen setlist predictions/analysis emails with friends like we were breaking down the newest LOST episode, but when Bruce takes the stage, his "12-minute party" should be the greatest non-football Super Bowl moment since Bono's American flag jacket in 2001 or Janet's nipple in 2003. For the record I'm thinking we get some mix of Born to Run, Rosalita, Glory Days, and Working on a Dream and if it were up to me it would be Rosalita, The Promised Land, Streets of Fire, and Born to Run.

• The Food- Last year and in other Patriots' Super Bowl's I am usually too nervous/focused to eat so on nights like tonight I can take some time to enjoy our spread. There's nothing better than football food and the only thing better than football food is lots of football food. Three years running I've brought out my A-game Buffalo Chicken Dip. It's the unofficial yellow line of Super Bowl food, I can't remember life before it. Also on the docket, our friend's killer Spinach-Artichoke dip, homemade potato skins, and rumors of "best chocolate chip cookies ever."

• John Madden- NBC has the game tonight which means we get Madden/Michaels doing the game. Two big things come with Madden: the obligatory Frank Caliendo Madden impressions and the memory of Madden's comical idea that the Patriots should have run out the clock and waited for overtime with 1:51 left in the 2001 Super Bowl.

• The Refreshing Lack of Girls- This is the Super Bowl and there's nothing worse than having to explain football rules, having to ask them to stop talking about whatever US Weekly has told them they must discuss at critical junctures of the game, or having to conceal burps, farts, profanity, or other football conducive man behaviors. Super Bowl is like men's Valentines Day, and the only gift we want is to be left alone to watch the game. Plus everytime you make a mistake and watch with girls, they end up winning the Super Bowl Boxes gambling game, that's karma.

• Some wildcards for the game today: Will Troy Polamalu get taken down by his hair? Will Larry Fitzgerald make more highlight reel catches? Will any Cardinal get McGahee'd by the Steelers D? Will my prop bets hold up (coin toss heads, no team will score three times in a row)? Will anyone's jersey at the party overshadow my Bud Bowl one? Will the 1 second Miller High Life commercials actually be worth it? Will any commercials break the two year void of good ads? Will people laugh at me if I show up with the 3-D glasses for Monsters vs. Aliens? How many times will I wonder if the Patriots would be in the Super Bowl if they were in the NFC?