The closest I’ll come to watching the 68th Annual Golden Globe Award is “Fashion Police”: a sartorial send-up by the magnificent Joan Rivers. She’s the only comedian and great wit who can get men to watch a program about fashion. Like me, my husband hates all “estrogen oozing” TV programing, but greatly appreciates Rivers. And rightly so. She’s lethal. Alas, the lantern-jawed Kelly Osbourne is an unwelcome addition to this show. Prissy and sanctimonious.
Wait a sec. I did watch “Salt” with Angelina Jolie. Is that up for an award? Can’t be.
Watching “Salt” was unsettling. America’s XBox, special effects, language-less movie culture reflects a certain reality-averse atavism. Up-close, Jolie the star is frightening. In this film she has cultivated a comic-book look with a newly sculptured nose and cheekbones that might have been enhanced. Her mouth is hemorrhoidal. And her come-hither glances! A CIA agent, or whatever she is supposed to be in this moronic movie, struts her stuff in a skirt slit up to her panties, which she promptly removes to make a bomb (an underwear bomber). My G-d; that’s not even Avatar-like clever. (Well, they say Avatar was clever. I don’t know; I could not bring myself to watch such far-removed stuff about a blue people fighting for their invaded fairy forest. I guess I’m just too wedded to reality.)
Fashion Police (http://www.eonline.com/uberblog/fashion/index.html)
