Clooney's Performance As Paul Krugman Honoured

Some people who I, like, used to know have been blogging the Oscars. To Vague I say: chaw, pshaw. Acting Oscars are for a body of work (or, if you're Jennifer Connelly, a finish-the-innuendo-yourself) and P.S. Hoffman has just been rocking all over the place for the last ten years.

Crash, on the other hand, can bite me. Like Suomi, I was rooting for the goddamn cowboy movie, because now everyone is going to wax agonistical about whether Hollywood is making a statement about The Lifestyle (whether practiced specifically by closeted sheepherders or not) by denying it the Best Picture award, and I am sick unto death of this manufactured non-controversy already. I much prefer listening to people like this douchebag explain how Hollywood is out to destroy the world. There's something soothing about it.

Meanwhile, this is good stuff, especially notable for its innovative categorizing of doomed romances:

They're married to different people, or they come from different social classes, or they're on a big boat that's about to sink, or they come from different social classes and they're on a big boat that's about to sink, or one of them is a self-absorbed playboy who inadvertently causes the death of his would-be girlfriend's husband and then accidentally blinds her.