The Ticking Tabloid

On Sunday, the 82nd Annual Academy Awards unleashed its usual parade of bizarre clothing choices on the red carpet. Since around the mid 1990's, celebrities have fallen into one of two camps. They've either decided to take the high road and dress like respectable adults for the Oscars, or they've proven that actors are childish attention whores who are happy to make themselves look as ridiculous as possible if it means getting on camera for another few seconds. Here are some of the sights those of us who decided to endure the Oscars experienced last Sunday.

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remember how the Harry Potter movies got darker and more serious as time went on? Yeah, not gonna happen with TwilightI didn't want to believe that so many ill-advised movies were coming out this summer. I thought maybe a half dozen risible films would hit theaters, make a quick, whorish buck and then slide onto home video for the consumption of idiots and children everywhere. But summer 2010 is nothing short of critical mass for bad movies, almost all of them in the form of sequels, remakes and adaptations. We've already looked at a chunk of the upcoming crimes against cinema. Here's another pile for the bonfire.

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they say that, but they're probably lyingRemember when Hollywood used to rely on completely new material and adaptations that actually made sense? Well, I don't, but I was born in the mid 80's so at least I have an excuse. With the summer blockbuster season just around the corner, we, the viewing public, have a startling lack of variety awaiting our ticket purchases for our warm month movie-going. Or, alternatively, if you were born in the last thirty years and are strapped for cash like the majority of your peers, you'll have to decide which bloated action movies and unfunny comedies to illicitly download for free this summer. Here's the quick breakdown.

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I love Italy. Of all the countries of the world, it's my absolute favorite. Granted, I adore French cuisine, British humor and (most) American cinema, but there's something special about that boot-shaped gem of the Mediterranean. It's not just Italy's incredibly agreeable weather, nor is it the country's gorgeous and varied landscapes. Sure, there's plenty to love about the old, ornate cities, the amazing Renaissance art and the unparalleled classical music tradition of Italy. And who could ignore the historical importance of the Roman Empire? Just looking at the ruins of the grand Colosseum sends shivers down the spine of anyone who appreciates the way that culture shaped the world. Ah, but today my love for Italy isn't about any of those things, great as they are. Today I extend my affection to one of its citizens, an elderly TV chef named Beppe Bigazzi.

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Charlie Sheen Ready To Be Boring Again

Ne'er-do-well actor Charlie Sheen has checked into a substance abuse rehabilitation center for what his lawyer has asked all media personal to refer to as "the umpteenth time" for an unspecified issue. Sheen's wife, Brooke Mueller, is also currently enjoying a stay at her own, separate clinic, though she recently relocated from a different facility after an unfortunate incident involving the privacy of her room, person and/or drugs. The famous couple has had a rough winter, including a Christmas Day domestic dispute that critics of the format have been calling an instant classic. Charlie Sheen is best known today for his work as the co-star of Two and a Half Men, a sitcom that has been scientifically proven to be the least offensive TV show ostensibly about sex within the realm of possibility. Sheen's drug dealer, who asked to remain anonymous, prescribed a cornucopia of mind-altering substances to keep Sheen from being too lame as a result of the show. Now that the actor has decided to get clean, his publicist has started a campaign to assure fans of Two and a Half Men that its star will be even more bland and middle-brow once he returns from rehab.

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I'm touching this leg because it isn't injured so the odds are in my favor

After months of struggle and pain, the people of Haiti can finally breathe a sigh of relief now that the Church of Scientology has arrived on its shores. Since late in January those hilariously idiotic children of science fiction failure L. Ron Hubbard have been delivering their particular brand of useless, potentially lethal medical care to the sick and injured of Port au Prince. For some reason, probably the utter chaos of the city post-earthquake, these fools haven't been summarily ejected from the country yet. No, while actual doctors cobble together the best reality-based medical care they can manage for the countless needy in Haiti there are tents full of Scientologists in yellow t-shirts playing make-believe with the lives of homeless men, women and children. Ain't the world a grand and wonderful place?

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you see, he's a lovable clown and not a shameless hackOn the day Kevin Smith got his definitively fat ass booted from his flight on a Southwest Airlines plane, I happened to be in the air as well, though with a different company. My immediate reaction to the situation was indifference. I don't care enough about Smith, the state of health and fitness in America, or the increasingly uncomfortable experience of air travel to really get in a tizzy about any of the many things involved with Smith's story. But then the whole thing snowballed. What should have been a minor and instantly forgettable development turned into some kind of miniature media frenzy. Sure, the various news outlets of our nation should have been spending a little more time on the giant, war-defining battle that took place in the hills of Afghanistan, but instead they decided to spend half the day prattling on about a fat geek and his Twitter account. So, here I am at the back of the bandwagon.

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Generic cold medicine is a wonderful, terrifying thing. Because winter is a period of pointless tortures like awful weather, extended darkness and ubiquitous disease, I'm currently battling my second head cold in so many months. Helping me in my crusade to reclaim my body from this ridiculous, suicidal virus are the usual suspects- plenty of fluids, chicken soup, hot showers and vitamin C. But they brought a friend along in the form of a viscous, green substance that predicates its entire sales pitch on a comparison to what Nyquil used to be. Over the counter medicine enthusiasts might recall that Nyquil, the old bastion of knock-me-the-hell-out cold medicine, got effectively nerfed a few years back, rendering it a useless concoction of food coloring and bitter flavoring agents. That's what happens when you're concerned about public image: you end up destroying your product just because a few idiots decided to drive after a heavy shot of the 'quil. Well, the generic brands don't care about PR, so they're still chock full of whatever it was that made Nyquil a groggy sleep drug. As an unexpected side effect, my currently hazy self doesn't give a toss about any of the following pop culture bombshells.

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no matter what game you're playing, Simon Cowell always wins

For the past ten years, Americans have delighted in/pretended to be offended by record executive and American Idol judge Simon Cowell. But now the venomous Brit has decided to say goodbye to his seat between a black stereotype and drunk, as well as the wildly (now mildly) successful show he pretty much manufactured from the ground up. Unlike other TV celebrities who have decided to loudly exit their programs, there's very little doubt about where Cowell goes from here. He already has The X-Factor, which is pretty much American Idol except with significantly less shame about being one, long sales pitch. Also, there are currently 21 different versions of the show airing in dozens of countries. What does 2011 have in store for Mr. Cowell?

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It may not be apparent in the things that I write, say and do, but my primary virtue is hope. Though I'm far too cynical to actually believe that all the potential good that exists at the beginning of any situation will actually come to pass, I'm frequently hopeful that at least some of it will manage to blossom among all the inevitable disappointment. So, standing at the beginning of not just a new year but a new decade, I'm positively, though cautiously, replete with hope for all the good stuff that might happen in the coming years. We can all accept that the 00's were a total drag, but there's plenty of possible happiness on the horizon. Case in point, the distinct possibility that neither Conan O'Brien nor Jay Leno will be running the late shift anymore.

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