Last night, despite the fact that I did not choose Birdman as Best Picture (Boyhood should have won), I was crowned Best Oscar Predictor and returned home with the trophy at a little after midnight. It is the first time I've won since The Artist took home Best Picture in 2011. That's a four-year drought. So, coming off that little victory, I had a really good day (despite -40 temperatures this morning and about four hours of sleep).
My good fortune is a sign of God's love in my life. I've been happy for the past twelve or so hours, which, for me, is sort of a record. Now, I hope I can sustain this karma at least until March 16, when the name of the next U. P. Poet Laureate is revealed.
Which brings me to this week's Ives Dip question:
Will I be named U. P. Poet Laureate on March 16?
And the answer from Oscar Hijuelos is:
...Ives would put some Perry Como or Bing Crosby on the big RCA console with the twenty-one-inch black-and-white TV, radio, and phonograph that his boss had given him as an extra-special bonus one year, and the tree-decorating party wold begin, the adults chatting on the couch, eating, everyone smoking cigarettes and watching the kids at work.
Well, that's one of the happiest passages in Mr. Ives' Christmas, with everyone sitting around, eating and drinking, celebrating the upcoming holiday. Celebrating.
Saint Marty should probably start working on his acceptance speech.
|Thank you, Birdman|