June Carter Crash

Here's your reliable reporter, fresh from the Academy Awards with lots of questions but, alas, very few answers:

• Could the otherwise excellent Jon Stewart have come across more lame-o? (Note to J.S.: Please dont' shill for an industry event like the Oscars ever again. You are about the only thing that makes politics bearable in this country anymore. We need you on the outside, not the inside. Simply stated, we love you too much to see you hop on the casting couch to canoodle with Hollywood trash.)
• Could Jack Nicholson be less aware of how unattractive it is to act the part of a snarky teenager when you're well into your second century on the planet? Perhaps it's not painfully obvious to him, as it seems there's a streamy stable of ever-ready starlets in need of a good home. Maybe whomever Jack's currently schtupping is loathe to speak out for fear of putting her deal-a-meal plan in danger. But sing out sister! It just can't be worth it. Plus if you put in an honest day's work at a fast-food restaurant, I hear they let you eat for free. Seems like the better, more self-esteem-building plan to me.
• Could Ben Stiller be more overdrawn from the First National Bank of Fame?
• Does Will Farrell realize he's following in the increasingly irrelevant and washed out footsteps of Steve Martin? What's next for either of them, With Six You Get Eggroll: The Sequel?
• Could George Clooney have been separated at birth from Hamas leader Khaled Mashaal? See for yourself here.
• Speaking of George, could he more self-deluded?: "We're [i.e., "the industry"] the ones who were talking about AIDS when it was just being whispered, and we talked about civil rights when it wasn't really popular ... I'm proud to be a part of this academy, proud to be a part of this community, and proud to be out of touch." Hey George, are we going to the same Cineplex Odious? Did you hear how long it took Brokeback Mountain to get made, how long it was "in development," because no actor would touch it with a ten-foot penis? I didn't see you first in line for any cowboy-on-cowboy heartbreak action, George. True, it is difficult to imagine you as a cowboy love junkie, especially since during any intimate moments your pillow talk would consist of low-growled rants on CIA activity in the Middle East or the state of American journalism. Definitely a boner kill for me.
• And speaking of Brokeback, was it robbed? Actually, no, in this reporter's humble opinion; no one may have seen Crash, but it was an excellent movie and very deserving of best picture. Besides, could you imagine "the industry," the most navel-gazing of all, not voting for a movie with a Los Angeles focus? Please. You are killing me.
• Could Reese Witherspoon be any more Eve Harrington to Julia Roberts's Margo Channing?

Finally, the Oscar for Snappiest Analysis of an Award Winner goes to none other than my wonderful mother, Vivien Leigh (so called by my friend The Socialist Scotsman because of her lovely Southern accent). [*Sound of envelope tearing*] And the analysis is . . .

"I can't believe that that little Reese Witherspoon won best actress over Felicity Huffman. I mean, Felicity Huffman played a man trying to be a woman. Reese Witherspoon played June Carter Cash. How hard is it to play a woman from Tennessee when you are a woman from Tennessee?"

And people wonder where I get it from . . . .