WORST WRITING OMISSION

QUENTIN TARANTINO, KILL BILL: VOL. 1

Let's call a spade a spade. The notorious PR machine of Miramax must have helped secure Dirty Pretty Things, an unsung thriller, with a writing nomination.

We don’t want to make waves between old buddies, but maybe Harvey and his henchman didn’t push so hard for a certain other Miramax film.

And maybe Tarantino should have Harvey over his house and they should drink all night and then maybe, all fueled up on coke, Tarantino should suddenly be standing in his living room, holding a sharp Bushido blade and, you know, waving it around Harvey’s fat head, jokingly of course. And then maybe just as the awkward drug-related paranoia hanging in the air red-lines, Tarantino can ask Harvey why some below-the-radar indie starring that Amelie chick got nominated. Yet he didn’t. And he could say, swinging the sword dangerously close to Harvey’s groin, still jokingly of course, “Hey, Harvey, wasn’t your company built on the success of my early hits? Or was it that fuckin' Amelie chick who helped make you a stinking rich mogul? Huh, Harvey? Huh?”

Bottom line: had this movie been penned by an unknown first-time writer, Academy voters would have been wildly jumping around, naked, lathered in popcorn butter.

Head up, QT. Head up.

WORST SOUND MIXING NOMINATION

CHRISTOPHER BOYES, THE PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN

Could someone please tell us why this guy’s been getting loving gumjobs from the Academy since back in 1997?

That year he won the Oscar for sound editing on Titanic. (A stretch.) Then came his work on Pearl Harbor. As good as Ben Affleck was playing a love-struck flyboy, the throbbing pain in our ears -– in other words, the shitty sound editing -- wrecked the movie for us. And they gave Sir Mix-A-Crap the gold trophy for that one too.

But then hot stuff thought he could make the leap to sound mixing. Not to be rude, but what in the name of fuckin’ split pea soup was he thinking?

As far as we’re concerned, you could fill a condom with all Boyes knows about sound mixing.

And now he’s nominated in the best sound mixing category for The Pirates of the Caribbean? Come on, people, that’s as wrong as Richard Grieco is right.

(You heard me. Show some love to your old undercover partner, you French-screwing Hunter S. Thompson toady. Show it.)

Boyes, you couldn’t sound mix Keira Knightley’s butt-cheeks right.

When you’re done glowing in the adulation of your fraudulent success, we suggest you listen closely with your tone-deaf ears to what Rev. Dale A. Robbins has to say in his Tips for Church Sound Mixing.

Before performing a sound mix, first initialize the mixer controls by setting them to off, flat, or zero. This establishes a frame of reference and eliminates complications later. Make sure the master volume fader is all the way down or set to zero.

You taking notes, Boyksums? Because we predict The Curse you put on this category will finally be broken when Andy Nelson comes galloping up your ass with his sound mixing for Seabiscuit, taking the Oscar by a nose.

WORST ACTING OMISSION

ALBERT FINNEY

When Henry Fonda was nominated for On Golden Pond, we sucked it up. When Paul Newman won for Color of Money, we kept a cool hand. And when John Wayne won for True Grit, we let it go. (ok, had we been alive, that one might have made us sick.)

But we're Oscar-savvy. We know the drill. Those loopy voters love to recognize the achievement of an old-timer's career by nominating him for a strong, but unworthy performance.

Albert Finney also deserved to have his entire body of work recognized, but the real crime is that his performance in Tim Burton's Big Fish was worthy on it's own. Worthy and beautiful.

Playing a spinner of tall tales, Finney demands your attention even as he lies immobile in a bed. He makes no apologies for the life he has lived, but does so without the stubborn self-satisfaction that a guy like Pacino would have surely brought to the screen.

For once, the voters didn't go with the sentimental choice. With Finney, they didn't have to.

Just the right one.

What's on our mind this morning? Our bank balance. Unfortunately, we aren't referring to a new band playing the early set at Mercury Lounge. But if we're calculating the sum of our worries, money accounts for a small fraction.

A far greater concern? The Oscars. Just like all previous years, we're troubled with the movies that were nominated and the actors that were recognized. Just as disturbing, the work that was overlooked. All this week our Deadly Viper Oscar Squad will be unleashing our fury:

WORST BEST MOVIE NOMINATION

MYSTIC RIVER

No, Clint, we don't feel lucky. Not after sitting through your blue-collar whodunnit, which was unsatisfying from first profound and meaningful shot of a river to the last.

Why critics tripped over themselves to praise this dead-girl drama as suspenseful when the murder case could have and should have been assigned to Jerry Orbach -- now, that's a great mystery.

We half-expected to hear that Law & Order synthesizer noise after every conferral between the two lead detectives. (At the climax of an interrogation, Detective Bacon leaps back into the face of the suspect and shouts: "You're lying." Go to black. Ga-dung!)

There's also enough Irish stereotypes to make Italians reconsider their outrage at The Sopranos. And if the overdone Bawston accents aren't distracting enough, the entrance of an off-track storyline in the final few minutes is sure to mystify.

Just because Eastwood's brooding screen-telling and Sean Penn's riveting anguish often lift scenes above the deep plot fissures and cliché thuds, doesn't mean the movie can avoid eventually sinking (see river imagery) under those weights.

Watching your ex-wife grow increasingly more attractive with each passing second since your split has to drain your sane tank. Need conclusive proof? Ethan Hawke recently told Details that he's "a wreck."

But things aren't all bad for the former hubbie of The Bride. This summer he reunites with sweet French tart Julie Delpy in a remake of Before Sunrise, a movie that saw Hawke at the peak of his slacker dignity and Julie Delpy at the peak of her Delpiness. Will the magic still be there? We're willing to throw down some hard-earned cash to find out.

One troubling fact -- the sequel's title: Before Sunset. We kid you not. Another reason to keep us awake at night -- Hawke's character Jesse bumps into Delpy on the French leg of his book tour. Sweet mother, now we're wrecks.

Blubox Delivers Both Barrels

Gawker stunned everyone in New York yesterday by mentioning us on their site. An official statement was released this morning from Blubox's owner:

We understand that the New York Observer must be embarrassed, frustrated and dissapointed by their failure in this transaction. Unlike Gawker, they chose not to go the extra distance for their fans below Delancey.

Blubox Question Of The Day

Would 27 year-old freelance journalist and Columbia grad Alex Polier win American Idol based on her friendster.com profile?

POLIER

About Me: just another hot piece of ass with a philosophy degree and a love for old movies.

JUDGES

Love the energy. Love the look. Over all, an excellent performance, but I'd still like to see more from you. But good. Definitely good.

POLIER

Favorite movies: Die Hard, Clueless and Jerry Maguire.

JUDGES

That was dreadful. It really was. All wrong. Here's what you should have said: The Sweet Smell of Success, The Princess Bride, The Kieslowski trilogy. (Blue being my favorite.) There. That's what we're looking for in this competition.

POLIER

Occupation: journalist/socialite.

JUDGES

Okay, dawg. You got it working.

POLIER

I’m afraid of death, hospitals and insects.

JUDGES

Boring. Boring. Boring. I'm just going to say it -- the object of this competition is to find a star. Right now, I'm not seeing that you're a star. Do you drink too much? Do you summer in Italy? Do you go out dancing with your disobeying British girlfriend Valery and does this always lead to an utter disregard for decency? That's what we care about. Not if you're fearful of spiders.

POLIER

I can’t spell.

JUDGES

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

POLIER

I like old people.

JUDGES

Look. It's fine. It's just fine. But I get this feeling -- well, I don't think you think you're the next American Idol. And frankly, it shows.

POLIER

I want to travel the world reporting on injustices while taking the time to enjoy an umbrella drink when appropriate.

JUDGES

I don't know, dawg. It was good. But... I'm just not feeling it. You know what I'm saying, dawg?

POLIER

Status: Open Marriage

JUDGES

Don't take this the wrong way, but you should lose the fiancé. That's the only constructive thing I can really add.

POLIER

Interests: doting on Yaron, reading bad novels, wedding planning…

JUDGES

Yaron? I think you've blown it. I can honestly say that.

POLIER

…and drinking too much.

JUDGES

That was the best we've seen you. I give that a 9.

POLIER

Who I Want to Meet: A spastic, compulsive, insatiable, well-dressed Israeli, with big blue eyes, a philosophy degree, and a cute infant nephew.

JUDGES

If you were the Dalai Lama, devote Buddhist monks would have kicked and stomped your head in for that performance. I'm serious. That was torturous.

A-Rod Thought of The Day

Do we forget that evil Sauron, in his constant and sleepless search for The Ring, ensnared into service a human king by promising him almost unlimited power when wearing the ring.

After making this deal with the dark forces, the king's mortal form faded and he became the Witch King -- Sauron's top servant, completely under his command. It was said no man could slay him.

So we ask you, brave Fellowship of Red Sox Fan, did you think you could defeat the enemy Sauron without having to slay the Witch King wearing #13?

This is the way the prophecy must be filled.

Blubox Weekend Picks

Going down to the Village tonight to see young folk singer Eben Paige, who explores his beef with Williamsburg and shows love for the "dry-cleaner guy who always has a smile for me". After show at Bungalow 8.

Up-and-coming L.A. band, Mash'd Po' Tatoz, returns hip-hop to it's roots. "Lose yourself" in the nasty chopped up beats. Things are sure to get crowded at downtown venue Crash Mansion, so come before 11 PM.

Heading to the Sunshine Theater on Houston Street to catch the latest flick from classic horrormaster John Carpenter about coyotes in Nevada infected with a man-made deadly virus developed by the Defense Industry. Don't be fooled by relentless scenes of townspeople being mutilated by infected coyotes, this one is a biting repudiation of US foreign policy. Stars Gillian Anderson, LL Cool J and Michael Rappoport.

Blubox Conspiracy Report

A close election is guaranteed no matter who wins the democratic nomination.

The reason: the news media can agree on one thing -- the closer the race the higher the ratings.

We believe the media is not contolled by liberals with a liberal agenda, but by editors and producers who want to get promoted. Chanting the mantra of higher ratings, they use all their power (the media's influence on political contests can be debated, but we think it's considerable) to foster a down-to-the-wire contest.

How do they do this? Think of the two candidates sitting on a see-saw. As soon as one politician gets too high, the media will weigh him down with negative coverage while at the same time lifting up the other guy with favorable reporting.

Once upon a time, the media touted Howard Dean as the man. Everywhere, front page stories -- in Time, Newsweek, Rolling Stone -- gave his candidacy a boost. But when that darn see-saw started tilting too fast and Dean rose too far above “the other guys” the media set out with a mission to balance.

The goal was to bring him back to earth; but caught up in the zeal of their mission they landed him six feet under. Recently, the general manager of CNN admitted that they overplayed The Scream (okay, maybe just a tad; they ran it 633 times in four days.) No one said balancing the political scales was a perfect science.

Ever wonder why the media didn’t pick up on the issue of George W. Bush’s questionable service record during the election of 2000?

Al Gore was a heavy favorite. Bush was a Dan Quayle in the making. The election looked like a disaster. (No, not for Republicans. Worse! For the media.)

So the boys at MSNBC and CNN and all the other media outlets gave two-fisted, coke-snortin’ George a free pass. We doubt the liberal media was worried the silver-spooned dunce would actually win the damn thing. (But then Gore ran an absurdly outdated Populist campaign, distanced himself from Bubba in Arkansas, and choked in the debates against Goober.)

The media got the closest race in history; the ratings were amazing; the editor’s broke out that ancient beer from the refrigerator in the lounge.

A highly competitive game brings better ratings – bottom line. Shall we count all those articles about "the upstart Panthers"?

Now that Kerry is running away with the nomination look for the media to go negative in an effort to bring Dean and Edwards back into the….

Hold on. Just got an email telling me to check out the Drudge Report; big story about a sex scandal involving John Kerry.

Damn media. Couldn’t they have atleast waited until we finished writing our blog?

Notes From Our Future Thesis On Reality Television

Don’t get fooled by the former Miss USA Contestant manifested on earth to fulfill the higher purpose of the bikini.

Don’t get suckered by the prospect of regular guys getting a shot at this bodacious belle.

The reality show Average Joe 2: Hawaii is not for dudes.

If it makes you feel any better, we were duped. We didn't realize that we weren't the intended audience, that those sneaky bastards at NBC were gunning for a different target (no, not aliens) until it was much, much too late.

Our first piece of evidence: the twist. Eight studs join the show halfway through to vie for the bodacious belle’s affection.

Opening up the competition to include jocks doesn’t necessarily ruin the appeal for regular guys. On the contrary, it promises to increases its charm if, in the end, one of the average joes wins the cutie’s heart over the cock-sure crew of studs.

The dating underdogs watching at home cheer: There is hope! There is hope!

But there isn't.

On the first Average Joe the bodacious belle went for the pretty boy. And the dork who wan't picked went back to his underdecorated pad and downloaded some porn. And all the dating underdogs watching? They followed suit.

Were the producers disappointed with the studs-on-top outcome? The producers didn’t care. Why? Becuase despite the babe at the center of attention, the show is really trying to appeal to… women.

Blubox admits: it was only after the 894th bare chest shot of the studs that we became suspicious.

Hey, maybe this show isn't targeted to us. Good God, we don't want to like a show that isn't trying to hit our specific demographic. That makes us feel creepy.

Worry grew. What other programs aren't for us? The OC is trying to appeal to 29 year-old white men. That's obvious. But what about other shows? American Idol 3!? My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance!?

Before we have a panic attack, let's return our focus to Average Joe 2: Hawaii. This show is for us. Right?

Our doubts soared the moment we started thinking: hey, who has all the power on the show? The female.

She samples. She kisses. She discards. She’s calling the shots. The guys are in the position of weakness; although, amusingly, they don’t always realize this (okay, the geeks do).

Each week, the cocky good-looking guys are put in the same position of weakness as the joes. The studs are so focused on their superiority over the joes that their bitch-level vis-à-vis the bodacious babe doesn’t dawn on them until she gives them the oh-so-benevolent boot.

Watch as dignity and dominance drop rapidly from them with each step towards their departure vehicle: a bus.

But hold on, seeing hot guys getting stepped over is not the whole appeal for female viewers. That’s the set-up. The appeal is that, in the end, she can’t resist the cute guy. Why? Because he’s just so cute.

And thus American Joe 2: Hawaii neatly solves a modern feminist dilemma of conflicting desires. (Thank you, NBC). Women can delight in feeling that powerlessness over their instinct attraction. But this is okay because, remember, in this game she’s in control. The guys are trying to win her over while she sits back and makes the call.

Regarding the show's unspoken appeal to women we're going to stick with our “have your cake and eat it too” theory. But then again, it could just be the chest shots.

Either way, one question does remain: is the greatest control the power to relinquish it? The show is definitely for women, but maybe the question is for everyone.

(Yes, even aliens.)

Remember when we said we'd had it with maintaining our 'much funnier-if-you're-tanked-up' blog? And here we are going back on our word: how Survivor All-Star of us.

Freaking out and changing your whole philosophy is something one does quite regularly in New York; you decide to get rid of all your possessions one day, and the next you're determined to amass great sums of money or kill someone trying.

The pendulum swings hard and fast in this town. Mood fluctuates wildly. The urge hits you -- what if I could hide out for a few weeks in shadowy dives where no one could find me. Then bang! You're pumped for that friend -- the one who knows where The Action can be found -- to send you a last-ditch, late-afternoon email suggesting a mission to hit sceney art openings and get drunk with lots of friends (well, they're actually more her friends than yours).

Our skull is suddenly filling with liquid. Don't expect us to ever blog again.

Blubox is having a slight meltdown. Maintaining a daily blog is hard. We're not equip for the challenge of working a full time job and writing new posts every day. So we'll be lessening our load. Is it possible we might not post anything until next week? Yes, it's possible. God, that feels good.

Blubox’s Guide To Delusion

LEVEL 1 (la-la land) — LEVEL 10 (straight-jacket time):


John Edwards: 1

Edward’s pollster Harrison Hickman, commenting on whether the candidate with the most sunshine on his shoulder would continue on if he loses in Virginia and Tennessee next week: “They don’t stop the ballgame after three innings.” Could he be more specific: does he mean the top or the bottom of the third?

Virginia Fields: 2

The Manhattan borough president must have slipped on some slushy Columbus Circle snow and hit her head before telling Newsday that the Time Warner Center would “certainly re-energize the neighborhood.” Wait, the Upper West Side was once energized. Shit. When?

Warner Brothers: 3

How long have we waited for Owen Wilson to play a “likeable drifter” in a comedy caper set in Hawaii… hang on… co-starring Morgan Freeman? If we have to endure as much as a trailer for this movie, we’ll get busy dyin’.

American Idol Contestant Lisa Wilson: 4

We don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Being delusional is not always a bad thing in our book. Take Lisa Wilson. This Georgia peach is lightly tethered to reality, but in a really hot way. When all the other contestants were feverishly working all night writing their own songs to sing for the judges the next day, where was Lisa? Flirting with a guy in the pool.

The next day she came into the audition and had nothing -- couldn’t remember a thing. She just smiled cutely and told the judges, “It’s too bad. It was a really cute song.”

If this wasn’t reason enough to adore her, check out the reaction she garners from serious-minded, knowledgeable fans like the one who writes this American-Idol blog:

“Model Girl - this is absolutely INSANE that this piece of work keeps making the cuts. We haven't actually seen her sing a single freakin' note yet this week. Not one clip of her even remotely measuring up to anyone remaining. How could she have learned her songs? She can't hear the music anymore - too much hot tub water in her ears.”

Martha Stewart: 5

For thinking she could get away with being a total meanie to an ecstasy-ingesting clubkid/rookie Merrill Lynch broker. You want proof that nobody puts Baby in the corner, check out this email that star witness Douglas Faneuil sent to his bud: “Martha yelled at me again today, but I snapped in her face and she actually backed down! Baby put Ms. Martha in her place.” Swayze told ya, but you didn't want to listen.

Number 6 through 10 on Monday.

BluQuotes

Okay, here's the deal. We provide the quote. You tell us the person who actually said it.

"It intensifies your tactile sensations and emotions."

Please choose one:

A. John Kerry, explaining to Tim Russert on Meet The Press why he's decided to wear an ornamental silver nipple-guard all the way through Super Tuesday and possibly until the National Convention.

B. Director of the CIA George Tenent, during a private meeting with President Bush and his cabinet just weeks before the Iraq War, in response to the President's question, 'What is the most honest reason I can give the American public for why we're going to war?'

(Note: Rumsfeld coughed under his breath then interjected that they might want to go the "massive stockpiles of deadly weapons aimed at us" route. Everyone agreed that sounded better. Except Bush -- who was preoccupied in a serious game of computer Tetris.)

C. Daniel Faneuil, at the Martha Stewart trial, explaining to Judge Miriam Cedarbaum the effects of ecstasy.

(Note: Talk about conclusive proof of perjury. "Real" ecstasy in New York. No way.)

PARIS BLUES

We were just wondering how Fox’s short-lived drama Skin would have faired had they cast Paris Hilton in the role of the porn mogul’s daughter.

Take a moment to ponder. Okay, now stop. We said stop! (Man, trust us, you'll eventually spiral into a depressed narcosis.)

One thing is for sure: if Paris has played Ron Silver’s young, pampered daughter from the good-side-of-the-tracks, right now we’d be delighting in back-to-back episodes of Skin and The OC.

Has there ever, theoretically, been a block of television that good? Certainly not since Party Of Five was plugged into the time slot after Beverly Hills 90210.

Don't your Wednesday nights suddenly feel substandard? Ours do.

OTHER SPECIAL RECOGNITION 2003

BEST SPORTS VIEWING AWARD: RIVIERA (West 4th St.), RED SOX: ALDS, ALCS.

SOPHIE DAHL AWARD: AMANDA HEARST

BEST DATE ROUTE: VON (Bleeker St) to CAFE DEL PORTAL (Elizabeth St.) to HAPPY ENDING (Broome St.) to LOLITA (Broome St.)

BEST NEW YORK HAIRCUT: ASTOR PLACE BARBER (Broadway)

THE SWEET AND VISCIOUS AWARD (i.e. THE HATE YOURSELF FOR BEING THERE BUT THERE YOU ARE AWARD): LES ENFANT TERRIBLES (Canal St.)

BEST RESTAURANT TO IMPRESS A GIRL: TEA AND SYMPATHY (Greenwich Ave.)

TREND THAT PASSED US BY: 'SNACK' RESTAURANTS

BEST SUMMER ICE CREAM PLACE: MAGNOLIA ST. BAKERY (Bleeker St.), ADJACENT PARK

THE OLD SCHOOL AWARD: 1. B&H DAIRY 2. LUCIEN 3. MAMA'S FOOD SHOP

BEST PRE-STRIP CLUB BAR: NANCY WHISKEY PUB (Lispenard St.)

THE GITANE MEMORIAL RUINED PLACE AWARD: 1. CORNER BISTRO 2. SEAN (Home of the Striped Shirt) 3. THE ANGELIKA

BEST HAMPTONS MOMENT: WASTED BLONDE GIRL AT AMERICAN PSYCHO-THEMED PARTY THROWING EVERY LAWN CHAIR INTO POOL

BEST DESSERT: BANANA PUDDING CAKE, BLUE RIBBON BAKERY (Downing St.)

BEST BAR TO IMPRESS A GIRL BY LOOKING LIKE YOU'RE NOT TRYING TO IMPRESS HER: LUCY’S (Avenue A)

WORST NEW YORK MOMENT: SOUNDS OF HORNS BEEPING ON 6TH AVENUE AFTER RED SOX LOSE GAME SEVEN TO YANKEES

BEST OUT OF CITY EXPERIENCE IN THE CITY: THE GREY DOG'S COFFEE (Carmine St.)

BEST BARTENDER: ZOE, LOVELY DAY (Elizabeth St.)

RESTAURANT FOR SPECIAL OCCASION ONCE WE CAN AFFORD IT: BREAD TRIBECA (Church St.)

BEST PLACE TO MEET YOUR AGENT, BEST FRIEND, OR BLIND DATE FOR DRINKS: THE MAGICIAN (Rivington St.)

WORST NO-DELIVERY POLICY: OTTO (5th Ave.) Ed. note: They are rumored to start delivering this Spring!

THE YEAR-DEFINING PLACE AWARD

Sway (Spring St.)

Standing at the crossroads in 2003 was the Arabian-themed meat market Sway.

The standard etiquettes of the Velvet Rope were being upheld within, reminding us what we didn't miss about our old Club-Limping days. But also what we WOULD miss if we were to never order an $8 vodka tonic again.

At twenty-nine, one had to ask themselves: is it time to rocket up or tone it down? Which one was the path to happiness?

Those young-rich-and-fast Hollywood types sure looked like they were having fun. But hanging out with the hip loungers at 2AM with the music thumping and the girls dancing and the guys hunting -- it triggered the feeling of an X trip that was about to take off but never did propel us down the exit shoot.

Why go to Sway instead of any of the other trendy downtown clubs? My friend’s attractive blonde ex-girlfriend could get us in (how late twenties) and that meant we didn’t have to embarrass ourselves by using a door scam (see: early-twenties).

One night, we thought we saw our former self, sitting in the corner on a velvet couch sipping on a bottle of Corona, comparing reality to our expectations. We had to laugh.

For all those young pups in their early twenties dripping attitude around us, they had yet to see their worlds collapse. And there was nothing we could have or would have wanted to tell them.

Meanwhile, the dust was finally settling on our own lives. For now.

Thom 61 (Thompson St.) a close second.