Kirk + Charlie

What a past couple of days it's been for pop culture, huh?

I abandoned the Oscars midway through, once I saw Trent Reznor accept his award (and man, who would have thought the guy I saw open for Peter Murphy in St. Petersburg back in '90 would win an Oscar? I sure didn't.).

You know, when the liveliest moment of the broadcast involves KIRK DOUGLAS, you've got a snoozefest on your hands. Bless Kirk's heart, though, he tried to cop a feel as he and Melissa Leo were escorted offstage. You know he totally invited her back to his drawer at the mausoleum for a nice little formaldetini.

I applaud the Academy for trying to make the ceremony more young and "hip" by getting Hathaway and Franco to host. But the effect was a little like having the class president and the biggest stoner in the school host the homecoming pep rally.

On the red carpet, the only one who really brought the crazy was Helena Bonham Carter, and that's because that's her JOB now. She's the new Sally Kirkland, and I totally love her for it.

But basically, that was one boring broadcast. It was full of more awkward pauses than a blind date with your coworker's nephew. It had more polite applause than your niece's violin recital. At least we, the unbeautiful and unfettered, could change the channel and watch the Kardashians or something. All those famous people were stuck there, having eaten nothing but a Tic Tac since noon the day before.

But what I really want to talk about - again - is the exploding supernova of crazy that is Charlie Sheen. My God, who are his handlers and why are they letting him go on national television?

Someone with the skills needs to build a "Charlie Sheen Interview Statement Generator." Choose a mythological reference from Column A, a vaguely-scientific-sounding phrase from Column B, and an ethnic slur from Column C. To wit:

"I'm Prometheus, UNbound, man. My mitochondria are patent pending. Chuck Lorre is a messiah-killing despot!"

"You wanna talk to me, you gotta get past Cerberus. That's right - a three-headed dog protects MY damn cerebral cortex. Get past that, and I'll entertain your offer, Hymie."

Try it and see! It's like being inside Charlie's brain!

Meanwhile, somewhere in Los Angeles, Mel Gibson is thanking his lucky stars that somebody else has picked up the crazy ball and is running with it, full-tilt into the nearest wall.

lisamcc at 12:18 p.m.

2 comments so far
Patty DesRochers
2011-02-28 19:32:35
And any female who doesn't follow him is a harpie.

2011-03-02 18:22:23
I love DVR. We watched the opening, the f-bomb by Melissa Leo, and the gracious acceptance by the bearded Christian Bale. Watching ol' Kirk was absolutely PAINFUL. I caught part of the acceptance by Shaun Tan as I like his artwork. I couldn't bear to watch anymore than that -- my DVR is at maximum capacity, and hey, with much more interesting stuff. As for Sheen, yes, I think you are right that Mel is thankful. Following Sheen is like watching a slow-motion train crash, wondering how many people are going to get hurt. His publicist resigned so that job is open for any willing takers. I keep thinking of Jackie Brown where SLJ says, and I'm paraphrasing "What happened to you man? Your ass used to be beautiful." And then Bobby DeNiro gets whacked.

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