I watched the Academy Awards last night–at least until the basketball game came on, then I switched back and forth during the time-outs and commercials enough to catch the drift.
The home team lost the game.
The awards show was as exciting as unsweetened vanilla pudding. A dish of prunes. Washing the dirty dishes ...
The Blazers finally had some healthy guys back, knees working, but because they weren't used to that, they got stomped by Atlanta. The new kid on the team, Gerald Wallace, who has a voice that sounds like Barry White's, did okay in his first game here. But, after one shoot-around with the team, he didn't know the playbook. The Hawks defense pinned the Blazers down like they were collected butterflies, two of twenty from behind the three-point line. A train wreck of a game.
The Oscars™ offered a cute couple as co-hosts, James Franco and Anne Hathaway, young, hip, and to yawn over. Billy Crystal came out and did a bit on Bob Hope that was funnier than anything the kids did all evening. Whoopee! Steve! Billy! Hugh! Anybody? Anybody? Dig up Hope; even dead, he'd play better ...
But–no. The producers were trying so hard to be cool the audience got flash-frozen.
Kirk Douglas, old, infirm, still recovering from a stroke was slow, but funnier than almost anybody else, save Robert Downey and Jude Law.
No big surprises, The King's Speech ruled, the other favorites won a few, the actors and actresses everybody expected to win, mostly won.
Best acceptance was from the writer David Seidler, who won for Best Original Screenplay. At 73, the oldest to ever take the award, he said, "My father always said to me I'd be a late bloomer ..."