The "Slumdog Millionaire backlash" apparently didn't happen until after the ballots were in.
Hugh Jackman (and his huge ackman) proved that the Oscars don't really need a host--just a voiceover announcer and a traffic cop backstage to run the presenters out in order.
After the medley of Best Songs, it becomes clear just how bad Debbie Allen's choreography was for all those years.
Sweetest moment: Kate Winslet accepting for Best Actress asking her dad to "whistle or something" so she could find him, and then a sharp whistle coming out of the dark and her excited reaction to the sound.
Funniest moment: Hugh Jackman's opening number, an allegedly no-budget tribute to the Best Picture nominees--"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Craigslist Dancers!"
Worst Fashion momen: Every damn ad by JCPenney.
Most Enthusiastic nominee: Anne Hathaway, sitting in the front row and cheering and hooting through the 3.5 hour show. I just love Anne Hathaway.
Two moments when I walked away from the TV: Bill Maher as presenter--smarmy and completely missing the light touch he needed to pull off his references to his own (unnominated) movie; and everything that had to do with Jerry Lewis.
A good show--it ran tightly, it managed to be a bit more educational to those of us who have no idea about what the various more technical awards are about, nobody looked heinous, no real surprises (except maybe Sean Penn being humble while accepting his award), and no disasters.
We saw Coraline a week ago, and everybody liked it immensely. We are so used to CGI these days, that even when watching a stop action animated film, we had to keep reminding ourselves that everything that we saw on screen actually exists.
Last weekend, I got to spend a day in SF, and went to the Museum of Cartoon Art, which had an exhibit of Coraline drawings, props, puppets, etc. from the making of the movie. It was very interesting to see the puppets--Coraline was only about 7 inches tall; by contrast, the final version of Other Mother was probably twice that. There were actual figures of Coraline and both her Real family and the Other family, both the old and young Spink and Forcible, the Other Mr. Bobo and several of his circus mice, and even the mantis/garden machine/helicopter.
However the most eye opening items were the short videos, showing several artists who contributed to making the film. The most amazing one was the woman who actually knit tiny sweaters and gloves for Coraline. Her knitting needles were no larger than safety pins, and the tiny stitches are completely unbelievable even as you watch her make them.
The official movie website is one of the best I have come across, and the videos are accessible from there as well. The above picture is from the Other Mother's Workshop, where you can add buttons to pictures from your computer or webcam.
Maybe buttons are scary, but on the puppy, I think they are pretty darn adorable.
So, I am literally sick to my stomach that the Obama DoJ is continuing to claim that national security secrets are at issue in a lawsuit challenging rendition. The case was brought by five men against the airline that the US used to fly them to foreign countries, where they were tortured in connection with the "war on terror." If I had wanted this kind of legalist obstruction to continue, I'd have lobbied to put Dick Cheney on the ballot.
Sure, Obama called for the closing of Guantanamo, but this continuation of Bush legal positions makes me dispair. Are we really not going to get the change I (for one) hoped for?
So, here's my suggestion for the Obama White House--do something to let us know that things are going to be different. An easy first step? How about changing the security threat level occasionally?
Every time I drive past or enter an airport, I get signs and voice messages telling me that the "security threat level is Orange." It's always orange. I mean ALWAYS. It never goes up, it never goes down. I still have to take off my shoes, I can only carry a few liquids in carry-on luggage, and the threat level never ever ever ever changes.
So, throw us a bone, Homeland Security. Switch it up a little. Then let us know. Couldn't there be different levels at different times of day, or seasons, or airline, or day of the week, or something? It's hard to take the idea that anything is any safer than it was on 9/11 if the threat level is exactly the same. Why can't I carry on my diet Coke if flying is no more dangerous than it has been over the last seven years? Why can't I take all my cosmetics and facial cleansers in my carry-on bag if limiting me to what fits inside a single quart bag hasn't changed the equation?
February can be such a loooooong month. Christmas has completely lost whatever magic it once had, and now fresh snow means shoveling the dang sidewalks. Again. Whether or not the groundhog has seen its shadow on February 2, up here in the cold north, six more weeks of winter is actually a fairly conservative estimate. Only six more weeks? That would be a nice change!
January has been a deep freeze, with morning temperatures in the negative double digits, and even having the temperature go up by 40 degrees only means that the snow melts into ice, and then freezes again overnight, making driving and walking into Extreme Sports.
Of course, at least January had New Year's Day, and the Obamarama Inauguration. (Hey W., don't let the door to the White House hit you on the ass as you leave. On second thought, do.) But what does February have? Groundhog's Day, which is only celebrated in Pennsylvania, and Presidents' Day, which is only celebrated by car dealerships and mattress stores. Sure, there is Valentine's Day, but what is that all about after elementary school? Premium pricing on roses, and a great deal of stress placed on men to come up with the Perfect Romantic Gift and Date.
But these are not real holidays. Do you get the day off for any of these days? No. Do you set up and decorate a tree, or send cards, or sing special songs? No, no, and no. February is just day after day of trudging through the slush and cold of winter, forever and ever. You say February is not the longest month of the year? Well, it certainly feels like it.
So, friends, gather around, because this year there is hope. This year, February has brought some joy into the frozen hearts of the people. Behold, I give you Hershey's Cheesecake Kisses.
Okay, so there are still no traditional meals and family gatherings in February, but don't these make things just a little bit better?
Tonks' English teacher played this in her class--because Shakespeare was the Eminem of the 16th century.
And, thanks to the creator, Mitch Benn, here are the lyrics:
(MY NAME IS) MACBETH
I wanna tell you a story full of blood, murder and death (My Name is) Macbeth I was the baddest motherf- in Scotland Whichland? Whereland? Wholand? Whatland? I won a battle at the head of my legions Showing my allegiance, slapping down Norwegians Bearing a grievance, they came to attack But ain't nobody gets to f- with Big Mac On my way home I ran into these three mystic bitches Of a kind that in those days were commonly referred to as witches And they gave me some big news I had not been seeking They told me that one day I would eventually be king They got the other part right about being Thane of Cawdor And I started thinking thoughts that I knew I didn't oughta I shared the good news with my good lady I was getting kinda scared but she stayed slim & shady She said "What do you owe this king? Why you wanna be so nice to him?" "If you'd left it up to me I already woulda iced him" She was going on and on, frankly it was starting to bore me And i think it was about then I saw a dagger before me If there's one thing I just can't stand, it's naggers So I done the deed and she ditched the daggers
(My name is, my name is, my name is) Macbeth
Hi (my name is) What? (my name is) Who? (my name is) Macbeth
Now I had the crown but I didn't feel like no winner Whacked my best buddy Banquo, guess who came to dinner Went back to the witches, this time they did not expect me Some spirits gave me some knowledge they said would protect me They said "You're cool till the trees come attackin' your castle "And watch out for Macduff", man, I knew he was an asshole "Though your deeds may be dark and your doings despicable, By man born of woman, yo' ass is unkickable" I came swaggering home with my new information And had Macduff's family murdered by way of celebration
Hi (my name is) What? (my name is) Who? (my name is) Macbeth Hi (my name is) Hail! (my name is) Avaunt! (my name is) See you! Macbeth
Now Malcolm was the name of the old king's son And on the day I done his dada in, to England he had run And ever since then, well I hadn't heard jack But now he was back to attack and harrass the Mac with a pack of Sassenachs! My knees were knockin' my head was hurtin' My defences were down, my troops were desertin' I strapped on my armour, my mood was improvin' Till some kid said "check it out, dude, the trees are movin'" The thanes were a strain on my brain, they were feeling the pain, they decided they didn't haveta My lady went crazy and done herself in, she shoulda died hereafter... There mighta been a time to feel some pain or sorrow Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow Hey Macduff what is your problem man, where is it that you get off? You break into my castle tryin' to cut my -kin' head off? Yeah give it your best shot, Lay it on, you nut No man born of woman can kick this butt Turns out my charm didn't offer no protection Motherf- was delivered by caesarian section... That's the last you'll hear from me, all things being equal Unless some dumb motherf- decides to write a sequel.
I know you are all just dying to hear my take on this year's Grammy Awards. I have promised myself I will not go full metal geezer about all the musicians I've never heard of before, because why? Because you already know I'm old, with a cold, dead heart, so why beat a dead horse.
Unless it's for fun.
Anyway:
The Famille Evil was out doing stuff yesterday afternoon, and suddenly-there, on the large screen TV in the sports bar/restaurant--were my boys! U2! World premiere (so far as I know) live performance of "Get On Your Boots." Album isn't even out yet, but who cares? If you can open your show with U2, you do!
By the way, it's an awesome song, and the album comes out just in time for everybody to buy it for my birthday.
I left the table and went across the restaurant to get the best view I could, and Cpt. Sweetie joined me, leaving the Jeune Filles Evil to their own evil devices. However, the restaurant still stands, so it's all good.
After that, I missed a lot, what with the travel back to the castle on the mountain top, having to stop and destroy a couple of lives on the way--Evil travel sometimes takes extra time, so here are a few pictures swiped from the Internets, along with the snarky comments as I remember them.
Got home in time to see Carrie Underwood performing in a golden bathingsuit with matching wrapper, topped off with a drag queen's idea of a bondage harness.
How else to you explain the big sleeves, the see through "skirt," and that black thing, with the sequins and the boob mashing? Was this her bid to look rock 'n' roll? Did she think it took her pretty little blonde self out of sweetness territory and into Woman To Be Reckoned With? Or was is just the only way she could attach her mic power box to her back?
She did have the shiny sparkly gold thing going on that we usually see on Beyonce--skin, hair, clothing all the same golden hue. I don't know the song, but her voice sounded like it was the Dangerous One.
Red Carpet Picture Randomness:
I don't know who Samantha Harris is, but has anybody seen Celine Dion recently? Have they ever been seen together?
Kanye West and Estelle performed "American Boy", Estelle wearing a sack from the Jetson Collection. They then went on to present the awad for best new artist, which Kanye took pains to point out had never been given to him. Dude. You have a career. Be glad you got that and STFU. Baby.
The award actually went to an English singer named Adele, who I wanted to love just because she was Carnie Wilson pre-bariatric surgery. However, Adele had her hair in a pony tail that was messy in a way that didn't say "carefully styled for casual" so much as it said "I got some in the limo on the way over here, and didn't have anybody who could fix it for me afterwards."
More Red Carpet Randomness: Is it just me, or does Barry Manilow look more like a bad Martin Short character than a real human being?
Also: Lisa Rinna. Girlfriend clearly works hard on the body, and wants to be sure that we all get a chance to see just how hard she does work. I have to admit, the big hair and the skin colored lips fooled me, and I didn't recognize her at all. Her interview technique for TV Guide Channel could use some work. Interviewing Boyz II Men, she offered the ever soigne "A lot of babies made to your music, I'm just sayin'." Ah--makes one almost nostalgic for Joan Rivers.
Sir Paul McCartney and Dave Grohl and some other guys do "I Saw Her Standing There," which holds up incredibly well for a song that has to be 40 years old. As Cpt. Sweetie pointed out, it's like somebody in 1975 coming out and singing the big hit "Twenty-three Skiddoo!"
This performance wins the coveted MAE Mosquito With A Ballistic Missile Award, for bringing in Dave Grohl--Dave frickin' Grohl, people--to play a Ringo Starr drum line. Talk about overkill.
How do we feel about this?
Do we really want to allow members of the Stridex Generation to pose around a National Treasure like Stevie Wonder? Singing his song when he is RIGHT THERE and could DO IT HIMSELF thank you very much it's not like being blind has held him BACK any.
Oh, and Kevin? Stop with the man perms.
Katy Perry. Katy Perry. What can we say about the Per-ster? "I Kissed A Girl" was a fun song, mostly because of the great rhythm section drive it had. It did not improve by seeing it performed by somebody descending to the stage in a giant banana.
I do not kid.
Points for performing in ballet flats, though. K.Per. was able to skip back and forth acros the stage and walkways without breaking tarsals, which seems like it's an idea that ought to be more popular. If you aren't already completely over this song:
But what happened? Remember all those "My Grammy Moment" ads run ad nauseum before the Grammys, and even the shilling for votes to "join Katy Perry as she performs" for the people who sent in video clips of themselves lip syncing to the song? What happened to them? As near as I could tell, the "winners" ended up being shown as video clips on big TVs at the back of the set. They could all have been "winners" at that rate--I'd feel cheated if I were them. Heck, I do feel cheated.
Anything else? John Mayer still skeeves me out; Coldplay are over-rated and over-rewarded; Lil' Wayne and the "Rap-estra" was still less heinous than all those old "Rockestras" from back in the day; MIA was incredibly pregnant and still performed--I wonder who they had in the wings to back her up if the baby actually decided to arrive on its due date.
Sursels spent the last week up in Northern Minnesota at a Y camp, where they spent much of their time outside, hiking, playing, learning. So I sent my super warm Sorrel boots with her. Which meant I had to find something for me to wear for that week.
I found a pair of black, waterproof ankle boots. They are in no way lined, but the waterproofing seemed to work like some insulation, and as a whole they were quite effective through the cold and snow.
However, the first day I wore them, I stupidly put on a pair of crew socks before heading out, and soon found that having those boots hitting my bare legs was cold and extremely uncomfortable. So before I went to where I was headed, I picked up some knee socks from Target. Funky knee socks. A pack of three, one with strawberries scattered across them, one plain pink, and one black and white striped.
They served to keep my feet warm enough, but for some reason, every time I wear the striped ones, I have this uncontrollable urge to drop a house on myself.
This has been a weekend of theater here at Chez Evil. Tonks is performing in the One Act Play competition, which started yesterday. The night before, the school showcased the competition play ("Under Milkwood," by Dylan Thomas) as well as 4 one act plays directed by seniors. And man were they good!
Two of the one acts were the two acts of "Waiting for Godot," by Samuel Beckett, directed by students who independently directed the acts without talking to each other. Costumes, stage sets, props--were all independent from the other.
And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. "Waiting for Godot" is an odd play, and quite a few times during the performance, I wondered if I was "getting" it.
After all, not much happens. Two men, Vladamir and Estragon, are sitting near a road, waiting for Godot. They never say why they are waiting for Godot, or who that is, or what they expect to happen once Godot appears. They talk, they resolve to leave, but they never do. And in the second act, they once again resolve to leave, but don't. In both acts, two other characters pass through: Pozzo and Lucky. As one critic famously said, this is a play in which nothing happens--twice.
So what is this play about? Go ahead and read the Wikipedia entry, as it is quite usuful in laying out several interpretations, as well as setting out many things Beckett said about it.
However, I did not find many of these interpretations persuasive, except for one (which of course I can't find to quote)--the idea that life is a process of waiting, and that something better may come, if not today, then tomorrow.
Now, I am well aware that biography is not literary criticism, but I can't help but be affected by the story of Beckett's life. Born in Ireland, he was living in France during WWII, married to a French born woman. He did not leave when the Germans occupied France, but worked for the underground resistance until he was forced to flee with his wife. They spent two years in hiding in a small village in southern France. "Waiting for Godot" was written soon after the end of the war, in 1948-49, although it was not performed until 1953.
But, I have often wondered about how human beings survive in such circumstances. What must it have been like to hide for two years? Every day spent hiding is a day not living one's life, a day where nothing really happens, a day in which one simply waits for things to get better--somehow. Something is bound to change, eventually, but there is no way to know if the change will be for the better or not. Maybe the Allies will liberate France, drive out the Germans, and Beckett and his wife will be able to resume their lives. Maybe the Germans will show up instead, find Beckett, and execute him. What can he do? Nothing he can do will influence which one of these futures occurs.
So, while in hiding, Beckett is forced to merely pass the time. Perhaps he had only his wife to talk to, like Vladamir and Estragon (which has always reminded me of "estrogen" although I've not seen anyone make that connection). Maybe there were occasional persons who passed through, like Pozzo and Lucky, frightening and diverting, living their own tragedy that only crossed but did not affect the tragedy of the two protagonists.
And what is Godot? God? Perhaps, but also anything that would lead to a change of circumstances, a catalyst that allows the characters to have some control over their own lives. If I were in hiding with one other person, waiting for an army to arrive to either liberate or execute, my life might very well feel like "Waiting for Godot."
Certainly, we in the 21st century should be comfortable with the idea of a play in which nothing happens, and which has no "meaning." "The Seinfeld Show" for example, famously stood for nothing happening, no lessons learned. We simply experienced the lives of the characters, learned their strengths and weaknesses, felt connected to theim. Why is it so hard to treat "Waiting for Godot" the same way? A sort of character study, in which the two characters are not able to leave their situation, but can only wait and hope that things will be better tomorrow. At any rate, I am happy with this approach for now. Vladamir and Estragon show me what life is like when control is out of your hands. I felt much that way when struggling with the worst of my depression--would the meds start working? Would they work well enough? Would I be able to function as much as I had to? If I didn't feel better today, it was possible I would beel better tomorrow, and that thin thread of hope is what keeps Vladamir and Estragon from hanging themselves to put an end to their situation.
What have I been doing this week? What everybody else seems to be doing as well--playing "Dangerous High School Girls In Trouble."
Not only do you have to love a computer game with a name like this, but this is the most unusual game I have seen in ages. Beautifully designed to look like a board game, done in elegant watercolor, this game combines all the things a 1920s flapper can teach that girls of today need to know: How to play poker, expose secrets, successfully taunt others, and flirt with boys who will then sacrifice themselves for you.
But this isn't only about being bad--learning these skills allows your girls to outwit adults in order to solve a mystery and save the innocent, as well as successfully serve as matchmakers to at least three deserve-to-be-happy couples.
You start with selecting the girl who will be Queen of your gang--from a group of 12 possible, each of whom has different strengths.
You then travel around the school looking to recruit other girls for your gang, occasionally attending classes as well.
Once you have your gang complete, you begin to investigate why the school nurse is covering up accidents, while outmaneuvering the Liars, Bullies and Stoolies.
Eventually, your investigations take you out into the tougher world of Downtown Brigiton, where the boys are harder to hook, and the adults are corrupt, venal, or pathetic, yet all are harder to outwit.
The game and the producing company Mousechief are garnering a lot of positive reviews and nominations. This is the most delightful and amusing game I've played in a very long time, and I highly recommend it. Check out a one hour free demo at Big Fish Games.
What? You say they actually give out awards for acting at this event? Wow. . .and WHO CARES?
The most important award is who the Mistress of All Evil thinks is the best dressed woman at the event, and so -- the envelope please.
And the winner is. . .
Anne Hathaway!
Yes! In her Grecian inspired column gown, she pulls off the goddess look without succumbing to the one-shoulder trend of the moment. Will we be able to look at one shouldered gowns without thinking "That is SO January 25, 2009?"
For looking elegant, unfussy, comfortable and distinctive, Anne Hathaway walks away with this year's most coveted prize.
Police have no leads as to the latest wave of criminal activity to hit LA. Apparently, someone with an impressive set of shears has been attacking Hollywood actresses and leaving them with only one shoulder to their gowns.
Evan Rachel Wood, Christina Applegate and Nicolette Sheridan were escorted to police headquarters, but could not make any positive identification.
TV stars from several shows have also been victimized. Lisa Edelstein, Angela Kinsey and Brenda Strong have also suffered the Snipper of Doom.
Not even the prestige production actresses are immune. Laura Linney, of the HBO mini-series "John Adams" and Viola Davis of "Doubt" have not escaped this mad spree.
The police have requested that any member of the public who has information about this Sartorial Shoulder Snatcher call Crimestoppers. Thank you for your attention.
What can you say about these two women and their statistically improbable boobs?
Paula, honey--Eva L-P did this look better at the Globes. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but adding the butterfly wings to the bodice does not actually provide any lift to the boobs.
Lisa, Lisa, Lisa. You are hot. You clearly work very hard at it, and all, but when Playtex advertised that their bras would "lift and separate" that didn't mean it was a good look when the boobs did it all by themselves.
Marcia Cross: Okay, as founding member and president-for-life, I now call the Pale Skinned Red Heads Club meeting to order! Our first order of business--Dark Colors Really Look Best.
Amy Adams: Look, just because you are the oldest member of the club, does that really mean I have to wear what you tell me to wear? I mean, the aubergine you made me wear to the SAG Awards was a nice color, but did I have to wear the bow from the Neiman Marcus gift wrap counter?
Marcia Cross: As president-for-life, I hereby amend the charter to say that nobody may speak in a meeting before being a member for at least a year.
Amy Adams: Look, sweetie, I have been nominated for an Oscar. I sang on the goddamn Oscar telecast. I am a star! Star star star! Take that, TV matron!
Marcia Cross: Don't make me show you the pictures of you in that wrapping paper dress you had on last year. Don't tell ME you never bought your dresses at the gift wrap department.
Amy Adams: Arrrrggh! My eyes!
Marcia Cross: So, next item of business. Do we invite Evan Rachel Wood to join the club, or do we wait to see if she goes back to imitating Dita Von Teese?
Amy Adams: (sotto voce) Get her in here--at least she didn't get stuck with re-purposing her birthday present as an evening gown.
Nicolette Sheridan: One Grecian urn. . .TWO Grecian urns. . .and a water fountain. Trickle trickle trickle trickle.
Teri Hatcher: Oh my god, Nicolette. What are you doing? Eurythmics are so Nineteen-ought-six!
Nicolette Sheridan: Teri! That dress is so clever! I think I saw it in a book called "Creative Napkin Folding."
Teri Hatcher: Oh! You beeyotch! Marcia, tell her she's wrong!
Marcia Cross: What? Are you talking to me? La la la, I can't hear you, I'm too busy talking to Up And Coming Hollywood Star Amy Adams about the advantage of dark colors on pale skinned red heads. Maybe we'll invite Evan Rachel Wood to join us in our cool new clubhouse.
Teri Hatcher: Fine! Fine! I'll go get Eva. Eva! Nicolette is being mean to me again!
Eva Longoria Parker: Damn it feels good to breathe! Just look at how much more room I have in this dress than in that red thing I wore at the Golden Globes. Plus, this one has a little tummy ruffle, so it covers up that I've been eating stadium food at Troy's games. But, why do I have this sudden craving for orange sherbet?
Teri Hatcher: Okay, just be that way! I'm going to go change and go back down the red carpet again, and I'm totally going to make everybody forget about you. I just hope nobody notices that I forgot to wear the right bra, and so I had to fill up the dress with kleenex.
Well, sure, I looked cute and fresh and young in my satin Golden Globes dress, but I sure got a lot of grief about it. Look, satin is hard to make darts in, and if you make a mistake you can't really rip out the seams and do them over again! So the bodice didn't fit exactly right--I was counting on the crystals on the collar to be distracting enough. I guess they weren't.
Okay, so, now that I have another chance I'm going to go for higher contrast, so if there are any mistakes in the gown, nobody will notice because their eyes will be totally distracted by some other aspect of my dress.
No--I did not get this idea from the Miss America pageant where the sashes have to be fastened to strapless swimsuits! I wish I could remember where I got this idea from, though.
OMG, how did this happen? I missed the SAG Awards! I hate missing awards--all those shiny pretty people wearing fabulous clothing and jewels and standing still so I can judge them for tiny slips and mistakes while I'm wearing some really old jeans and picking nail polish off my fingers!
Okay, maybe I got distracted by the Oscar nominations and just forgot to pay attention to all the other awards being bunged about like bread at The Drones--oh hey look! Shiny!
But my mistake shouldn't make you suffer, so let's go to the Judgmental Clothing Blog! SAG edition!
Angelina Jolie: Is this dress too boring? It's too boring, isn't it? I knew I should have gotten out of bed earlier so I didn't have to wear my bedsheets tied on with a shoe lace.
Brad Pitt: "I am very drunk, and I intend on getting still drunker before the end of the evening."
Angelina: The shoelace doesn't show, does it? And nobody can see the bunny slippers I forgot to change, right?
Brad: "You still think you're the cutest trick in shoe leather."
Angelina: I don't know--it looked all right at home, but now it's just. . .just. . .blah. I'll lose my reputation as one of the best dressed women in Hollywood.
Brad: "With enough courage, you can do without a reputation. "
Angelina: I don't even have on any lipstick. I think I was going for subtle, but now I look like I've just eaten off my make-up or something.
Brad: "I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how. "
Angie: (fretting) And I don't have any jewelry on. At least I did something with my hair, or everyone would just assume I'm tired and pregnant again and I just don't care. I was busy, okay? I have. . .four, five. . .how many children do we have now? Anyway, I'm a mother, and sometimes being a mother means you end up going out looking tired.
Brad: "A cat's a better mother than you."
Angie: So, at least you are here with me, so I don't have to do the "who are you wearing" interviews by myself
Brad: "You go into the arena alone. The lions are hungry for you."
Angie: Stop that! Just because you can grow a cheesy mustache and scrunch your eyebrows up like that, you are not the Second Coming of Clark Gable, so stop quoting from Gone With the Wind. You aren't going to remake that movie and you are just getting annoying.
On his first day in office, President Obama signed an order to close Guantanamo Bay. This was such the right thing to do, but even I didn't think he'd do it that quickly.
I had hope for our new president, but he's exceeded what I even imagined by acting so decisively and quickly. Sure, there are issues that have to be resolved, but he's ordered all the quasi-judicial military commission proceedings be stopped for 120 days while the cases are reviewed. Not only did he make the orders, he created a deadline.
You say you don't like football? You have given up even watching the Super Bowl for the commercials, because even they aren't worth it? Are you a Super Bowl orphan, uninterested in watching the Big Game that the other members of your family are glued to?
Have I got a solution for you.
For the fifth year in a row, Animal Planet brings you the world famous Puppy Bowl!
Can you stand the cuteness?
While large men are crashing into each other, you can focus on various dog breeds playing in a large area with no interference--although a ref will whistle a foul if one of the puppies makes a mess on the field. Once picked up, however, play resumes immediately.
Last year, we were given the insanely popular Water Bowl Cam, which should be back again this year. Don't miss the kitty half time show!
In a move designed to pull your heart strings, all the puppies in this year's Bowl game are from shelters, and so are all adoptable.
