We had a much-needed little Front Range snowstorm yesterday. It was so peaceful and quiet–Sundays are usually pretty quiet days in Potterville, but with the snow swallowing all outdoor sounds, it was even quieter. I had a beef burgundy* in the oven, and we made a fire and watched a Harry Potter movie instead of the Academy Awards.
It turns out that it was a really excellent decision to shut out the rest of the world last night. I keep thinking about the old Monty Python skit about Australian wines: “this isn’t a wine for drinking! It’s a wine for lying down and avoiding.” (Don’t miss Linda Holmes’s review at NPR.) In the end, I think Amy Davidson’s analysis was the best I’ve read today:
Watching the Oscars last night meant sitting through a series of crudely sexist antics led by a scrubby, self-satisfied Seth MacFarlane. That would be tedious enough. But the evening’s misogyny involved a specific hostility to women in the workplace, which raises broader questions than whether the Academy can possibly get Tina Fey and Amy Poehler to host next year. It was unattractive and sour, and started with a number called “We Saw Your Boobs.”
“We Saw Your Boobs” was as a song-and-dance routine in which MacFarlane and some grinning guys named actresses in the audience and the movies in which their breasts were visible. That’s about it. Continue Reading »