I know, I know: I didn't sprint to this blog after the Wesley Snipes verdict, but in fairness to myself, the "bombshell" I'm about to drop on you (while watching a bearded Bill Richardson do what can only be called his Horatio Sanz impersonation on Super-Fat Tuesday), this news did break a couple of hours ago: Graydon Carter has canceled the Vanity Fair Oscar party because of the writers strike. Oh lawd. What gives? I thought we were a little closer to settlement. Can't you see the gold-plated tumbleweed blowing down Vine Street.
Speaking of tumbleweed, the Academy's president, Sid Ganis, put the passive-aggressive squeeze on the stars at the nominees luncheon the other day, threatening -- jokingly, of course -- that you can't win if you don't come. Man, that Democratic debate from last week is starting to look more and more like the year's most glamorous event. President Ganis, meanwhile, is starting to seem a lot like certain people's moms.
