Now that health care has passed – sort of – in its compromised, mutilated form – Mr. wOw feels free to be shallow.

Not that we don’t care. But this is a victory at an immeasurable cost. I’ve never seen such mishandling and inability to defend a position – to state a position clearly! – as the Democrats demonstrated throughout this ordeal.

But maybe now Obama will stop talking about being a “good one-term president” – because he needs another four to make sure this bill isn’t shredded and overturned in every way.

Enough! I have a headache already.

On to the silly.

Mr. wOw has very little use for Miley Cyrus. She’s 17, a terrible actress and a nondescript singer. (She displays her lack of talent in both these areas on Disney’s “Hannah Montana.”) However, this doesn’t make her a bad person.

In fact, as a person, she went up quite a few notches last week when, in Parade magazine, she struck back at criticism from “Morning Joe” newstress Mika Brzezinski. Mika, the daughter of former Carter cabinet member Zbigniew Brzezinski, declared herself offended by Miley’s “pole dance” at an awards show last year.

This is Mika’s role on “Morning Joe.” She is the moral arbiter and/or glamorous sidekick to Mr. Scarborough. I don’t get what she thinks she is doing every day, but she is unembarrassed by her mock gasps and pouts, cute eye-rolling and references to herself as “Mommy.” (The only person who ever looks embarrassed at the frat-boy antics, smirking and double entendre of this show is Pat Buchanan, a frequent guest. I don’t agree with him politically, but I’m right there with him as the expression on his face conveys – “what a bunch of assholes.”)

Anyway, Miley said in part, “My impulse is to say, ‘Get off my case Mika … my job is first to entertain, and do what I love. And if you don’t like it, change the channel … I would do that pole dance a thousand times because it was right for the song and that performance. But, dude, if you think that dancing on top of an ice cream cart with a pole is bad, then go check out what 90 percent of high-schoolers are really up to.’” Miley went on to use the word “dude” again and remind Mika that she was probably no “angel” at the same age. Mika, rebutting Miley, insisted she was an angel. Or close to it. And she went on to say she didn’t want her 11-year-old daughter pole dancing. Mika, that’s your job.

The rich part of this is that Mika’s dad was on the show the very day that this bit of foolishness was reported. (By the sneering no-talent Willie Geist.) Zbigniew looked bemused. Probably clueless as to who Miley Cryus is, and perhaps even to stripper poles. But sure that his beloved Mika had right on her side in this struggle with a teenage Disney starlet.

Miss Mika is very popular. (And sometimes effective and forceful, when free of Joe; she shakes off her schtick. So, honey, if you think this is the best use of your talent – eh, fine. I think you could do better. Good luck on keeping your daughter away from the stripper pole!

Anyway, the best part of “Morning Joe” is trying to catch how many times Joe can say, “When I was a Congressman!” A great drinking game could be made out of it. That and how often Sean Hannity says, “I’m a Christian!” (In both cases you’d be insensate before the first quarter hour.)

P.S. Miley Cyrus has also expressed herself strongly on the boredom and confines of her Disney image. Hmm … sweetie, one Lindsay Lohan is enough!

***

Tiger Woods. What? Like I could avoid it?

Mr. Woods gave two brief interviews to ESPN and the Golf Channel the other day, as he prepares to return to his sport in a few weeks at the Augusta National. He expressed himself “properly” in all ways – sorry … disgusted with his behavior … sorry … working on his issues … nervous about public reaction … some things will remain private, etc. I’d rather he didn’t have to address any of it, but Mr. wOw lives in a dream world sometimes, where people aren’t such hypocrites and bullies.

As to the recent release of Tiger’s graphic sex-texts to one of his creatures – so? Everybody gets their kink on, especially if you’re kinking with a porn actress. Tiger’s lurid ways and language might not be alluring to most women, but most women – luckily – don’t have sex with him.

The bigger question is: What kind of a person releases such material just as it looks like Tiger and his wife are working hard to save their marriage? I guess the same kind who poses pantless for GQ, and tells us more than we need to know about John and Elizabeth Edwards. I refuse to print these women’s names.

At least not right now, while I’m in a state.

Elizabeth Taylor: CC/Public Domain

Now, Mr. wOw could write a million serious or sentimental words about Elizabeth Taylor on her 78th birthday. But I’m feeling rather lighthearted today. (The Wellbutrin must have kicked in, finally!) When I realized today was indeed February 27, and that la Liz was indeed 78, I was drawn back to remember the spring and summer of 1962. Outside the corner grocery store a block from where Mr. wOw lived with his mom, a rack of newspapers was always placed outside the store, weather permitting. Seven New York City tabloids. I’ll never forget passing that rack of papers, day after day, and on every front page screamed the scandal of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. I knew who Elizabeth Taylor was. I recalled my mother, two years previously, wondering if Elizabeth would survive her dreadful illness in London. (Mr. wOw was only about six, but … already very interested in the Lives of Glamorous Ladies. My mother thought it was amusing then. Later, not so much.)

But this attention to Miss Taylor’s love life seemed unprecedented (a word Mr. wOw probably didn’t even know at that time). It was thrilling and sexy (Mr. wOw knew that word!) and very exciting. Mr. wOw wanted to buy all the newspapers, and read every word about this monster of iniquity – my mother expressed herself as “very disappointed” in La Liz. But we could only afford one newspaper. Just one? Mr. wOw burned with curiosity. He was often shoo-ed away from the store because he tried to quickly flip through papers. And on more than one occasion, Mr. wOw went criminal for ET – he stole several of his favorite headlines right off the newspaper stand. “Liz and Burton Romp in Rome.” Mr. wOw had a pretty good idea what a “romp” was. (My mother later “forgave” Elizabeth because … she was too beautiful to know better and “she’s always so sick, poor thing.” Even Mr. wOw thought this made little sense, but it also made Miss T. seem quite powerful. She could change my mother’s mind – no easy task, that!)

As the years passed, Mr. wOw didn’t think much of Miss Taylor as an actress or even as a beauty (what was up with her weight and that double chin?!) But she was a fascinating creature – so excessive, so bejeweled, so overly made-up. So “I don’t give a damn what you think!”

Mr. wOw found that attractive and amusing. Finally, during the High Rococo period of Elizabeth’s career in the late 1960s/early 1970s,  Mr. wOw came to appreciate the onscreen Liz – and in doing that, went back and looked at her earlier work, and found her surprisingly good and subtle. (Though, natch, Mr. wOw preferred the unsubtle Liz – anyone could act, nobody could do what Miss Taylor did with a teasing comb and liquid eyeliner!) Then, in 1973, Mr. wOw clapped eyes on Miss T. for the first time, and that was that. She was, in the flesh – and in the riot that broke out around her – every crazy headline, every lurid Photoplay cover, every fantasy of a movie queen come to life. And even – just for Mr. wOw’s sake, I am sure – very slender at that moment.

Birthdays are days of celebration. I want to celebrate all the good times, all the fun, that Miss Taylor has provided for me over the years. Her great movies, her great charity works, her sufferings, courage – all those are for a more serious day. Today I remember going to see “X Y & Zee” with four friends and a bottle of Jack Daniels (Miss T’s favorite libation), shrieking with pleasure as Taylor picked up a phone, furiously dialed her rival, Susannah York, and barked, “Is my husband in your skinny, chicken-like arms? He likes women to be a mess, that’s why he’s with me!” (Miss Taylor wears hot-pants in this movie. Need I say more? She deserved the Oscar.) 

Oh, Elizabeth. I hope today is full of love, friends, family and a hell of a good time, honey. You deserve it.

Talking to a crowd of frenzied Conservatives Saturday, Glenn Beck didn’t suggest a “final solution” to rid America of progressives, but he came pretty close.

Mr. W. didn’t think he could be any more depressed than he was last year when Rush Limbaugh spoke at CPAC. (Remember Rush, fat and repulsive, bouncing up and down at the podium?) But Beck brought me to a cellar beneath the cellar. A subterranean level of dread. There is something particularly disturbing in the intensity of Beck’s rhetoric. Oh, why dance around it? This appearance could be put side-by-side with one of Hitler’s early speeches.

Yeah, I know, we’re not supposed to ever compare anybody to Hitler. (Except if you’re a Republican talking about Obama.) Why not? Why not say it? I got a cold chill watching this TV and radio pundit, this “harmless clown” — as his detractors try to tell us that’s all he is — whip himself and his audience into some sort of mass hypnotic trance. Mr. wOw has perused enough History Channel documentaries about World War II to recognize an address from the Reich Commander. Hitler did just what Beck is doing now, criticizing like-minded types to “reform,” re-capture their strength and pride — only then can they rule.

Beck has used the most damaging and ugly and inflammatory language about the president. Tit for tat, I say, for those of you now blanching at my language. I know it’s extreme. It is meant to be. And I mean every word of it. Beck is a truly dangerous man. He works for a truly dangerous “media outlet” — an outlet that seeks to control the United States in exactly the same way they insist Obama and his “czars” plan to. Only, of course, their dictatorship will be true-blue American, Christian, heterosexual and white, white, white.

Beck peppered his political remarks with a lot of icky personal references, especially about his drinking problems. As someone who has struggled with liquor himself, Mr. wOw thinks Mr. Beck is a disgrace to drunks — active, recovered or not-yet-at-the-bar.

Bevare! As Bela Lugosi used to say. Our necks are on the line.

P.S. Mr. wOw is friendly with a number of conservatives, and he likes many of the obvious conservative readers here on wOw. My remarks above are about Mr. Beck. As far as I am concerned we need to be ever vigilant to madness. Because it can happen again. (I know, I know — you Republicans are gonna write in and say, “Yes! It can, it has! Obama’s in the White House!”)

Watch Glenn Beck speak at the Conservative Political Action Conference (via CNN).

© Shutterstock

Mr. Woods is lucky. In repose, his face is almost always rather sad and somber looking. So that face served his televised mea culpa well. Mr. wOw doesn’t live inside Tiger’s head and can’t gauge his “sincerity.” He sure looked and sounded sorry. Why he was sorry, I can’t say.

I don’t think he’s a terribly complex personality.

I was glad, however, that he came to his wife’s defense in the matter of beating him so badly with a golf club that he needed reconstructive surgery (and two front teeth replaced). Cheating is one thing, beating is another, and the idea that Elin Woods was “justified” in perhaps almost killing her husband was no joke. Though it has been treated as such.

So, let’s all move forward. I believe the earth continues on its axis.

P.S.  Gloria Allred, stop defending porn actresses who want an “apology” from Mr. Woods. You are a shameless opportunist. Shut up.
 
(Mr. wOw has more to say about Gloria, but the first draft of this post came back with a note asking to tone it down — “a wee bit harsh” we were. So … I’ll bide my time and bite my tongue.) 

ONE MORE THING: If nothing else came from Tiger’s press conference, at least now we know how to properly pronounce Elin’s name!

Happy … Groundhog Day? Continue reading “Mr. wOw Emerges From Hibernation, Sees Idiots, Goes Back to Sleep” »

Christopher Meloni/Image: CC/Mirka23/Flickr

Who does Christopher Meloni have to sleep with to get an award?

Since 1994, this guy has acted his hot ass off, most notably in HBO’s “Oz” and NBC’s “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.” He’s done plenty else, including a few comedy roles. (In real life, he is nothing at all like his famously intense “Oz” and “L & O” characters. He’s a riot.)

But in all this time, only once has he been Emmy-nominated — in 2006 for “L & O.” No offense to his co-star, Mariska Hargitay, who is a doll and a very talented actor, but how has she racked up one Emmy and three nominations along with a bunch of SAG nominations? Meloni has given blood, sweat and tears to his art. (Anybody see the episode with Ellen Burstyn as his bipolar mom?) What’s the problem here? Too sexy for his own good?

Yes, Mr. wOw has interviewed Mr. Meloni. Yes, he is “all that.” And more. (Before acting he toiled as a construction worker, bouncer, bartender and personal trainer.) So … sue me. Charisma aside, Meloni is also criminally underrated and shockingly un-honored.

I want this injustice to end.

And if it does, Mr. wOw won’t expect Mr. Meloni to leave his beautiful wife and two children. A hearty, manly handshake will be thanks enough.

Not.

© Shutterstock

On an average day, Mr. wOw cringes at CNN’s grand inquisitor Larry King.

He is an abysmal interviewer. His mediocrity is such that it always cheers Mr. wOw (between cringes). Mr. W. still holds out hope that his own mediocre talents will someday bear profitable fruit. So he watches Mr. King bitterly, musing, “What, if this guy can be on TV, isn’t anything possible?!” We hope so.

But King has a vital venue in his nightly show. It’s rarely used correctly (the Jacksons, the Gosselins, Balloon Dad). But on Tuesday those suspenders and that horrific dye job did the trick. King, assisted by stars such as Jennifer Lopez, Tea Leoni, Mick Jagger, Jared Leto, Molly Simms, Ben Stiller, Snoop Dogg, John Mayer, Scarlett Johansson, Sean Combs, Susan Sarandon, Ryan Seacrest, Paula Abdul, Nicole Richie and others, put on a telethon to raise funds for earthquake-shattered Haiti. At last count the tally was near $8 million.

Mr. wOw salutes Mr. King and all his helpers – with a generous round of applause to CNN’s exemplary coverage of the Haiti disaster. MSNBC also deserves high praise for their efforts in that area. (Although nothing MSNBC does can forgive that network’s weekend line-up of prison specials.)

In a week or two, Mr. wOw will be cringing and bitching once again at Mr. King’s show as he ineptly grills the famous.

But let’s get real – Mr. wOw’s own sketchy abilities and name couldn’t raise $8 for charity, no less $8 million. So, here’s a genuine high-five to a guy who didn’t have to get as involved as he did. Larry could have just run a phone number or website scrolling along the bottom of the screen while he interviewed, oh, for example, plastic surgery mental case Heidi Montag.

You go, Larry! And I mean that in a good way.

Mr. wOw is very happy he is not required to cover the 67th Annual Hollywood Foreign Press Golden Globe Awards in Hollywood.

Mr. W has been there, done that, and quite a few times over. But, it isn’t ennui that’s keeping him home. I’m down with a vicious cold. Attending any function, even one held across the street would reveal a dismayingly red-eyed, coughing, sneezing, slightly feverish and very deep-voiced Mr. wOw. (The only plus side to my cold—I sound really butch for the duration.) Stars gathered at the Beverly Hilton wouldn’t be amused by my ravaged condition as I inched in for a quote, or to pay a compliment, or ask for the breath of life as my throat closed up.

It’s so much better for all concerned to sit here in my fluffy old white terry-cloth robe, sipping tea, free to be stringy-haired, unshaven, perched in front of the TV. Glamour!

Maybe I’ll feel better by the time I have to dish people on the red carpet.

Now, as to the awards … I’ll tell you all who I want to win. This will have nothing to do with “best” anything, or tremendous insights as to individual performances or movies. What — go read Film Comment if insight is your pleasure. These are purely personal choices, and not open to argument. Mr. wOw is like Lana Turner: He wants what he wants when he wants it, and he wants what he wants right away. (That was a nifty personal philosophy until, oh, around age forty. Not for Lana. It was Mr. wOw who had to get real.) Also, not listing all the nominees in every category because … I can barely sit up at this point!

So this what I want:

Best Picture:

“Inglorious Basterds.” I think “Precious” (simply too unrelenting!) or “Avatar” (I want real actors!) might actually take it, but Mr. wOw loved those “Basterds”!

Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture Drama:

Helen Mirren, “The Last Station.” It’s brilliant work, an actor’s dream role.  Who might get it? Sandra Bullock, charming but no great shakes in “The Blind Side,” or Gabourney Sidibe for “Precious.” Sidibe gives an astonishingly brave performance. I just wish I could have connected more to the film.

Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture Drama:

Jeff Bridges “Crazy Heart.” He’s genuinely terrific in this film. He is and one of the most criminally under-rated and under-honored actors around. Period. I want to see him with a Globe and an Oscar.

Best Motion Picture — Comedy or Musical:

Rob Marshall’s “Nine.” It’s not perfect, but I loved so much of it I’m giving the flaws a pass. However, I wouldn’t cry if “(500) Days of Summer” took the award.  I would weep if “Julie & Julia” was honored.

Best Performance by an Actress — Comedy or Musical:

Marion Cotillard for “Nine.” She’s superb. Also, she’s not Meryl Streep who is nominated twice in this category, for “It’s Complicated” and “Julie & Julia.” (Though I must say, Meryl is wonderful doing her impersonation of Dan Aykroyd impersonating Julia Child. Clever.)  But … I’m prepared for Sandra Bullock, silly in “The Proposal,” to take the Globe. She’s this year’s It Girl Resurrected, popular and well-respected in the industry.

Best Performance by an Actor — Comedy or Musical:

Joseph Gordon-Levitt for “(500) Days of Summer.” I’ve liked him since his “3rd Rock From the Sun” days, and he was just sensational on “Saturday Night Live” a few months back. He’s my guy in this category. Even though I love Matt Damon in … anything.

Best Supporting Actress:

I want Julianne Moore in “A Single Man.” Like Mr. Bridges, I feel Miss Moore is underrated and under-honored. However, there’s good chance that Mo’Nique, the epically monstrous mother of “Precious,” will take it.

Best Supporting Actor:

Hands down it has to be Christoph Waltz as the Nazi commander of “Inglorious Basterds.” No contest. And no contest for the Oscar, either. However, I love all the guys here—Matt Damon, Stanley Tucci, Christopher Plummer (truly great in “The Last Station”) and Woody Harrelson. But, I stand by Mr. Waltz.

Best Director:

Mr. Quentin Tarantino for “Basterds.” I don’t always love, or even like, Mr. T’s work. But this one grabbed me and hasn’t let go. If it goes to James Cameron for “Avatar,” I’ll be … very bitchy about it. There is a fine woman, Kathryn Bigelow, nominated for “The Hurt Locker.” I’d accept her, too. Very good film. And she’s not James Cameron.

Well, we haven’t even started on the TV nominations. Perhaps tomorrow. (I’m posting this on Saturday night). Mr. wOw needs a bit more of that soothing cough syrup, which seems to spark LSD flashbacks. I don’t know what the hell’s in this stuff, but it’s … well, award-worthy!

Should Tiger turn to Jesus? Continue reading “Brit Hume on How to Heal Tiger Woods – Not Even Mr. wOw Has This Much Gall! (Video)” »

Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime … The truth? Or misogyny? Continue reading “Mr. wOw on the Best Gossip Book (So Far) This Year” »