I had various thoughts while I was watching the Oscars, but I can't liveblog because our laptop was stolen in the Great Home Burglary of 2006, and then over the last four days my thoughts have melted together into a big shiny ball of gold and taupe goddess dresses studded with penguin-shaped interpretive dancers and Jack Nicholson's bald head.
All except this one: I have an ominous premonition that Tom Cruise's fairly innocuous appearance as the presenter of a humanitarian award will, in retrospect, be the beginning of an image rehabilitation. In 5 years we'll think of TomKat as just another Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones, and the whole couch-jumping, Brooke Shields-bashing, Stepford Katie reality we all recognize now will be swept under a plush rug of talented publicists and charitable work. Terrifying. Eternal vigilance, people!
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