As chronicled here over the weekend, and now as parodied by SNL this Saturday. Not as funny as it should have been but still laughable. Enjoy.

I guess it’s time to sign up for Netflix. While intermittently watching the Oscars last night, it occurred to me that I haven’t seen many of the award winners. Call it both an overt symbol of my inability to get to the theater and a subtle symbol of the irrelevance of the Academy Awards. Here’s all the Oscar winners I haven’t seen (here’s a fun game too- see if you can figure out which movie(s) I’ve actually seen):

“The Departed”
“The Queen”
“The Last King of Scotland”
“Little Miss Sunshine”
“Dreamgirls”
“The Lives of Others”
“Happy Feet”
“Pan’s Labyrinth”
“Letters from Iwo Jima”
“Babel”
“An Inconvenient Truth”
“The Blood of Yingzhou District”
“The Danish Poet”
“West Bank Story”

I didn’t liveblog last night (mostly because I just don’t care about the Oscars) but I can post these posthumous thoughts:

The peer stroking and self adulation that goes on from the “Daddy love me” celebrities never ceases to turn my stomach.

Elen Degeneres, though not as irreverent as she could have been, was a nice choice for host. Most of her bits were funny and unexpected.

I wish Beyonce Knowles would just go away. It really isn’t that difficult to just scream into a microphone. Seriously, try it some time. It’s pretty easy.

Anybody know why Jennifer Hudson wore a spacesuit on the red carpet?

Meryl Streep’s clothes looked like she shoplifted at an African safari boutique. And she just grabbed whatever she could and ran out the door before the security guard or Winona Ryder could get to her.

Watching Leo DiCaprio suck up to Al Gore reminded me that even professional athletes, celebrities, and the wealthy look up to elected officials. Mamas, forget about American Idol. Prepare your kids to run for office.

You’re welcome.

A protein bar, orange juice, white tennis shorts, more juice, and Texas. All things you would expect to come up in a courtroom, right? Maybe, except none of it had anything to do with an actual case being decided. If you were living in a hole this week with Punxatawny Phil, you missed what may have been the most uncomfortable and most bizarre legal spectacle in the history of the 24 hours news cycle. Judge Larry Seidlin presiding over what was already a circus, turned the court room into the alternate script for “My Cousin Vinny”, this time with Joe Pesci playing the judge. Judge Seidlin was at times rambling, incoherent, emotional, unpredictable, and just plain strange. Next stop: daytime courtroom alongside Judge Judy and Judge Joe Brown no doubt. You have to watch it to believe it. Grab some coffee or a sandwich and enjoy.

First, recapped as only Keith Olbermann and Countdown can do:

Second, an uncut video with him reading his “verdict” and getting very emotional. As if the Anna Nicole parade of emotional wrecks needed one more float…

You’re welcome.

We don’t watch the NBC show “Heroes” here at RedRenee.com (too much on the Tivo already) but apparently 15 million or so of you do watch it. Below is a mildly funny “Heroes” spoof making its way around YouTube. If you actually watch the show, you may find it funnier than I did. If you don’t think it’s funny at all, go get your own website.

Not sure who you’re going to vote for in ‘08? Yeah, me neither. I’m going to stick by our rules here and keep this politically neutral- this is just too good to pass up though.

The internets come to the rescue again in service of the notion that elections are two parts popularity, one part real issues. The link below purports to track daily how many “MySpace friends” each of the Presidential candidates have.

The Democrats have the early lead and are way out ahead of the Republicans for MySpace friends. Leading the way for the Dems is Obama with almost 48,000 peeps. Hillary Clinton is in a distant second with about 25,000 (omitted biased comment) people.

First place for the Republicans is Texas Representative Ron Paul (he’s actually a Libertarian) (who I didn’t even know had formed an exploratory committee to explore the declaration to declare yet). Mr. Paul has approximately 2,800 MySpace friends. Mit Romney is in second place with just shy of 1,600 people in his circle of trust.

You may want to bookmark this bad boy to keep the caucuses, polls, and debates in perspective.

http://techpresident.com/scrape_plot/myspace

You’re welcome.

Gotta love the elbow drop and the dude beating the Gator with its own arm.

Subtitle: “Rappalung”

I guess the kids at the Conservatory have a little free time on their hands these days. Can’t say that I’ve seen this before- a beat-box flute version of the “Inspector Gadget” theme song with “Axel F” for a bridge.

Enjoy.

Dateline: East Fishkill, NY

James Pacenza was fired back in 2003 from IBM for allegedly using a work computer to visit sex-related internet chat rooms on multiple occasions. According to IBM, Pascenza, 55 at the time, was terminated for “violating IBM’s business conduct guidelines” and “misuse of IBM property”. Pacenza fired back with a lawsuit claiming that he’s been suffering from post traumatic stress disorder since he served in Vietnam in the late 60’s (yep, that Vietnam- almost 40 years ago).

Pacenza and his attorney are also claiming shelter under the Americans with Disabilities Act stating that Mr. Pacenza is an internet addict. I’m a little fuzzy on the chronology of a.) the Vietnam War, b.) when Al Gore invented the internet, and c.) when exactly the plaintiff became addicted to the aforementioned internet. Maybe the attorneys can help clear that timing up in court. In filed court papers, Mr. P also said “I was tempting myself to perhaps become involved in some titillating conversation”. At work. The nerve of IBM to fire that guy.

http://www.poughkeepsiejournal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061219/BUSINESS01/612190318/1012

Wait, it gets better. At the time of his termination, the Plaintiff was receiving approximately $65,000 a year. Pacenza is suing IBM for $5 million. That’s 76.9 years of salary, unadjusted for inflation. Apparently the internet addiction would have enabled Mr. Pacenza to work until the age of 132.

Mr. Pacenza- take your internet and go home. You are not a victim- you are part of the problem. You’ve joined the hundreds of thousands of people who spin reality through their own sense of entitlement. Most Americans would be delighted to get $65,000 a year to look at silicon wafers all day. You should have been using the internet to research better ways to build silicon chips, or enjoy your retirement- titillate yourself with that.

You’re welcome.

Special Guest Contributor Mark O. checks in with his ode to technology- first a nod to the technologically disadvantaged and second, a Norwegian video spoofing how some folks approach a computer. Enjoy!

We all know them. They’re our mothers and fathers, our aunts and uncles, our neighbors and friends. They are The People that Technology Left Behind. Think of it like that old Saturday morning show The Land of the Lost. You know the one…the Marshall family (Rick, Will and Holly) get lost on a rafting trip when an earthquake dumps them over a waterfall into The Land of the Lost. There they encountered dinosaurs they named Dopey and Alice and a little orphaned monkey-boy named Cha-Ka who quickly joined the family.

But I digress. Imagine all of our People that Technology Left Behind (PtTLB’s for short) are just like Cha-Ka, trapped in a world where the clicker is really a clicker, where UHF and VHF channels mean something, and where a record isn’t just something that Guinness keeps track of. These people should be pitied, but in some cases they bring it on themselves. Really now, who can blame your 70+ year old grandfather for not understanding an iPod? Or your sweet old auntie who doesn’t even have a cordless phone, let alone understand net-to-phone? These age-challenged folks have been through plenty of change in their lives (e.g. a World War, color TV, integrated schools) so just because they can’t hang with today’s techno-babble we should give them a break.

No, the PtTLB’s that piss me off are the ones who should know better. Those who remember Frogger, Zaxxon and the Mario Brothers before they got their own game but still refuse to embrace today’s electronic wizardry.

Take my friend and co-worker who just bought a new portable GPS for her car. She’s angry because “Jill” (so named because of the electronic voice she chose for it) refuses to learn her preferences for driving routes. Apparently “Jill” wants her to go one way when my friend KNOWS that another route is better. There’s obviously a fundamental problem here…if my friend already knows the route, then why is she using the damn GPS in the first place?

Or how about my buddy that just bought a new 6.1 megapixel digital camera with a 1 GB memory card? He brought it to a party the other day and after every picture he takes you have to wait while he reviews it in the camera and decides if the shot came out right. If not he deletes it (something he’s not very sure how to do yet) and then has to have everyone recreate the spontaneous moment that just passed so he can shoot it again? He simply can’t understand that with the capacity for over 500 shots he can just shoot and shoot and shoot and sort out the pictures later on his computer. And don’t even get me started on his inability to comprehend the pre-flash that happens with the red-eye reduction feature…

And my personal favorite PtTLB, the wife of a friend who, upon seeing him pause a live football game with his TIVO so he could go take a leak and get a beer asked, “But how does it get everyone at the stadium to wait for you?” Really, she did.

I give up.

Amidst gawking fans and reporters, Britney Spears tatted up at “Body and Soul” in Sherman Oaks, CA. According to the “artist” that did the work, Ms. Spears got a pair of red and pink lips put on her wrist. Perhaps the new tattoos were meant to be a diversion from the fact that she’s now also bald. That’s right- the former teen diva went “G.I. Jane” and shaved off all her hair at an LA salon before heading over for the new ink.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17197876/

Maybe she’s having more trouble letting go of K-Fed than she thought she would.

This latest Spears, v. 3.0, comes quickly on the heels of v. 2.3 which was just released last month, following the end of her second brief marriage. Here’s the chronology in case you’ve had a hard time keeping up:

v. 1.0 (Mickey Mouse Version)
v. 1.1 (Teen Pop Diva)
v. 1.2 (Codename “Timberlake”)
v. 2.0 (Skank Edition)
v. 2.1 (1st marriage)
v. 2.2 (2nd marriage)

The CDC announced this week that a salmonella outbreak involving nearly 300 cases in 39 states since August has been linked to peanut butter. That’s right, peanut butter. The Food and Drug Administration said the affected jars are marketed either under “Peter Pan” or “Great Value” peanut butter and have a product code on the lid which begins with the numbers “2111″. ConAgra Foods, the maker of both kinds of peanut butter, is recalling all jars with the 2111 product code.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17155561/

Consumers everywhere should be outraged over this latest outbreak of salmonella. It’s one thing for spinach to be tainted. Nobody really cares about spinach (even if they say the do). Peanut butter though is one of the last pure expressions of Americana bounty. And I thought they had to roast those freaking peanuts. How did salmonella sneak in there??

And why does it take an internet article to find this out? When I swipe my stupid “shopper card” at the grocery store, what exactly are they doing with all that spending information they’re downloading? The grocery store people should know whether or not I bought a jar of that peanut butter and they should call to warn me. Or they should at least call my fictitious phone number- 555-1212 or send a “peanut butter postcard” to my fictitious address- 227 Studs Terkel Lane, Walla Walla, WA 90210.

You’re welcome.

Ben & Jerry’s has named an ice cream flavor after Stephen Colbert. The flavor, called “Stephen Colbert’s Americone Dream”, will feature vanilla ice cream with fudge-covered waffle cone pieces and caramel. In a statement released by Colbert he said “I’m not afraid to say it. Dessert has a well-known liberal agenda. What I hope to do with this ice cream is bring some balance back to the freezer case.” Proceeds from the ice cream will be donated to charity.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17152896/

We’ve got a Colbert bonus for you today also. Here’s the word from last night’s show: “Frenemy”. Enjoy.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidating

Top 5 Cheesiest Love Songs

I Do………I Don’t

Singing Telegram

You’re welcome.

Snow has brought out the Youtubers in full force doing what they do best- producing or capturing the absurdity of life. First up is what we’re titling “Curling Without the Brooms.” The fact that the video was shot a couple stories up obviously hides the apparent incline of the street below. Either that or there is some strange “Lost”-like magnetic force at the bottom of the street.

The second video we’re simply titling “Proof That Stupid Doesn’t Get Cold.” I love the part about 1:50 in when one of the film crew tells the dude to not run on the slippery pool floor- at least they’re safety conscious.

Finally, the worst snow of all- the rapper “Snow” and his early 90’s piece of garbage “Informer”. If you actually bought this CD you should throw it out in a snow bank right now. Shame on you.

(embedding is disabled) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fki7agpULSY

You’re welcome.

Evidence of further reparations from the Republicans to the Democrats came in the form of five Grammy awards last night for the “Dixie Chicks”. The chicks pulled in “Album of the Year,” “Record of the Year”, and “Song of the Year.” They just missed out on “CD of the Year”, “Laserdisc of the Year”, “Super-Audio CD of the Year”, and “MP3 of the Year.” Better luck next year.

Even standing on stage in Grammy victory, you could tell the Elven one (Natalie Maines) was biting her tongue. You could almost see her hearing the guiding voices in her head: “Elven country warrior, you have won. It is time to accept the spoils of war and lay down your weapons”.

The Grammies had all the feel of a well-funded high school talent show. The lack of talent present didn’t help. I’m not sure if someone new was producing the show, but it was disjointed and ill-conceived. The circular second stage in the middle of the audience was clearly uncomfortable for both audience members and performers. The sound level was off on several performances and that “contest to shred with Justin Timberlake” was both completely uncompelling and sleazy. It was the equivalent of Donald Trump doing a commercial for his own brand of water during his Apprentice TV show. Oh, that’s right, he already did that.

Gnarls Barkley’s performance of “Crazy” was about 40 clicks too slow and felt like a funeral dirge (maybe that was the point, apparently I’m not hip enough to get it) and I didn’t think it was possible but Christina Aguilera out-James Browned the late James Brown. Somewhere in the middle of her rendition of a Man’s World, she went right past James Brown and into Eddie Murphy’s R&B character in “Coming to America”, “Randy Watson” (’That boy’s good! Good and terrible.’). And somebody needs to tell her that the hairdo doesn’t really work. It’s some sort of Retro 20’s mullet. I know pretty people like to try and make themselves look normal (aka “ugly”) but give me a break.

Then there was the endless parade of ill-paired award presenters, uncomfortable dialogue, and horrible acceptance speeches. And should there be a “Best Country Album” if the CMA’s have their own freaking award show? Please someone explain that to me. Seriously, send me an e-mail, I don’t understand.

There were a few bright moments (Red Hot Chili Peppers never disappoint, neither did Chris Rock’s introduction) but all in all, it was a fitting evening of failure, a perfect ceremony depicting the sad state of music (arts in general) in this country.

You’re welcome.

Americans have a lot in common with Australians- surfing, Foster’s, Outback Steakhouse, and an intense love for Crocodile Dundee. One thing we obviously don’t have in common is cheerleaders. Cheerleaders in America are an integral part of any sport worth watching. Never mind that they can’t be heard most of the time, they’re there alongside our beer, brats, and buddies and that’s all we need. I thought that was the case in Australia also, until I read a little ditty from the AP this week.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17067020/

Actor Russell Crowe is part owner of the Australian rugby team the “South Sydney Rabbitohs”. It was announced earlier this week that Crowe fired the Rabbitohs cheerleaders for wearing skimpy outfits and distracting spectators from watching the matches. That’s right, fired them. Fired them like he fired that telephone at a hotel employee back in 2005. Sir Russell said “(the cheerleaders make) women uncomfortable and it makes blokes who take their son to the football (game) also uncomfortable.” His Russellness was concerned that the skimpy outfits were inappropriate entertainment. The cheerleaders are being replaced by a bunch of drummers that will be called the “Rabbitohs Drum Squad”.

I’m not sure where to start here so let me just spew randomly. First of all and for the record, if that drum squad were playing for an NFL team here in the states, they’d be hot and scantily clad as well. I’m also pretty sure that a bunch of people banging on drums is going to be more “distracting” than a bunch of girls running around in bikinis and frilly things.

Second of all, how exactly are boys being raised down under these days? Apparently this way:

Father: “Son, were you peaking at those cheerleaders on the sideline again? I want you to focus on the sweaty men tackling each other.”

Son: “But…”

Father: “And after this sweaty man match, we’re going to watch ‘Gladiator’, ‘Master and Commander’ and ‘The Insider’. And then we’re going to go bake Kangaroo-shaped cookies.”

And if the majority of Aussies truly were uncomfortable by what the cheerleaders were wearing, how about change the outfit? Or put on a sweater? Apparently Mr. Crowe had no control over what outfits this girls wore so he just decided to fire them?

Ahh….A beautiful mind indeed.

Howie Mandel has taken his hit game show “Deal or No Deal” up north and the Canadians love it. The first Canadian episode ran immediately following the Super Bowl this past Sunday and the show kept 2.7 million of the 3.4 million Super Bowl viewers. The Canadian version of the show is filmed in Toronto and features real live Canadian contestants as well as all-Canadian models holding the briefcases (hopefully Canadian briefcases). We heard an early rumor that the models were going to be on horses (since that makes folks seem more official and hotter in Canada) but that turned out to not be true. Bummer.

http://www.gambling911.com/Deal-or-no-Deal-Canada-020607.html

The kicker is that the $1 million prize in Canada is not taxed- game show winnings in Canada are not taxable. So I ask you, which is better- winning $1 million dollars in Canada or $1 million dollars in the U.S.? Deal or No Deal? For the Canadian millionaire, there’s that little issue of currency conversion (we own you Canada!). Today one Canadian dollar is roughly equal to about 85 cents U.S.. That means that $1 million Canadian is equal to about $850,000 U.S.

What about the United States? Well, the first challenge is the Federal Government. According to Bankrate.com, the Federal Government would take out around $359,000. That’s right, $359,000. Then you’ve got to deal with state taxes. If you lived in California, you’d pay around $91,000 in state taxes. Tax in the great state of New York would be around $100,000. Most shows are taped in either California or New York so for arguments sake, let’s take the $95,000 as the state tax number (forget about any credit you could take on your own state income tax for the moment). So after you’ve paid Uncle Sam and the respective state and local taxes, you’d be left with about $546,000. I’m starting to understand why Richard Hatch evaded tax payment on his cool mill from Survivor.

Based on those figures, it’s a pretty easy choice between which payout to take. Immigrate to Canada, “fist bump” Howie and become a crazy Canadian millionaire. If you’re really daring, cash out the million in the United States and head up north for a “vacation”. Congratulations, your one million US dollars is now equal to about $1,175,000 in Canadian dollars. That might make you one of the top ten richest people in Canada, I’ll have to check.

Now we don’t condone a long “vacation” in Canada with your million dollars, we’re just saying that $1,175,000 buys an awful lot of hockey sticks and Tim Hortons crullers, eh hoser?

You’re welcome.

My people tell me that Anna Nicole Smith is a fairly popular topic over the last 24 hours. They tell me that according to Google and AOL, she’s the most-searched item today. They also say “Red, we want to know how you feel about the untimely passing of Anna.” I had hoped to stay above the fray but I cannot take the peer pressure any longer.

Anna Nicole’s death is tragic, mostly because she left behind an infant child and a couple of blokes battling for custody of the money….errrrr child. I wish that child all the luck in the world. In addition to the obvious tabloid issues that kid will have to work through, I’m pretty sure the genetics are going to be a challenge as well.

Anna Nicole Smith was one of those enigmatic stars that seemed almost surreal. A combination of Marilyn Monroe, Kirstie Alley, and Courtney Love, she seemed to always be not quite smart enough to stay out of the public eye, but just smart enough to take advantage of it. Her frequent personal dramas played out overtly in the media. From Playboy to her reality TV show to Trimspa ads to her marriage to a fossil, she really became a messed up version of “The Truman Show”. I tried to find some old clips from her reality TV show that would best sum up her mystique but could not. The best I could find was a 70 second clip that ’s been circulating on YouTube. Enjoy:

On a side note, watching some of the wall to wall coverage on MSNBC, I’m reminded how much I cannot listen to Rita Cosby. Can somebody please buy her a bag of throat lozenges? My throat tightens up every time she’s on. I don’t have a TV voice either, that’s why I’m not on TV!

Just watching the Grammy’s this weekend not enough for you? Want to “up the ante”? Well, thanks to the world of internet gambling, there’s a new way to enrich your weekend. Bodog.com is giving casual fans and degenerate gamblers alike the opportunity to put cash down on sidebets for the Grammys. My personal favorite is the over/under bet on “the largest number of people on stage to accept an award”. I’m not kidding. If you just pulled out your wallet and whispered “tell me more”, the line is set at 11 1/2 people right now.

http://www.bodog.com/sports-betting/tv-film-movie-props.jsp

I’m no gambler and Redrenee.com nor any of its affiliates will be responsible if you lose your nest egg on a Grammy wager or any other wager, but I’d take the over on this one. Grammy Awards = Posses a plenty.

You’re welcome.

As reported by Charlotte TV station WSOC this morning, a Monroe, North Carolina man robbed a convenience store Tuesday night with a pair of red boxer shorts on his head to “conceal his identity”. I guess he was fresh out of ski masks, panty hose, bandanas, and plastic president masks. And I’m wondering how exactly he put on the disguise? Did he cut out two eye holes? Did he wear it like a chef’s hat? Or maybe he just looked out with one eye through the “peepee” opening?

I sure hope the security video ends up on Youtube later today. I might take the bar exam just so I can question this guy on “the events leading up to him putting a pair of red boxer shorts on his head”.

The Sherriff’s office is looking for a man between the ages of 35 and 38 with a gray beard, wearing a green sweatshirt and black pants. I’m no Walker Texas Ranger or anything but I’d start by looking for someone wearing red boxer shorts on their head waving a fist full of cash. That’d probably narrow the list down pretty quickly.