Why I hear all of you readers pondering that question. Why an article about the Academy Awards one month after they have aired Because, faithful reader, it's the way Sally Kirkland would have wanted it. More on her later. I figure a month to let the "magic" sink in would give me an unbiased view of the 2002 Academy Awards. Now it's time to brush off the tux, call the designers about the dress, and pull out all the tired catch phrases and one liners that make us want to smack Mary Hart with a board. IT'S OSCAR TIME. again

My wife and I have a tradition each Oscar day. Yes, I am married. We wake up, eat breakfast and plunk ourselves down in front of the t.v. to get as much Oscar coverage as we can muster. You know there is only one place for that; E!. The marketing folks at the E! channel are telling us that E! (I love typing that) stands for, "Everything Entertainment." But to the savvy television junkies, like myself, it means shows that feature drunk, college people dry-humping each other at fancy clubs and Howard Stern still trying to act like he is cutting edge. But alas, it's the only channel that devotes its entire schedule on Academy Award day to that little golden man named Oscar. (If I had a nickel for every time that Mary Hart has said that exact same phrase as she stares at us through her cold, soulless eyes)

Of course the highlight of the pre-show or "Red Carpet" is to finally find out what those pesky stars are wearing. And that is handled through the very capable hands of the forever augmented Joan Rivers and her perky daughter, Mellisa. It's fun to watch Joan mess up names. Names of famous, well known people. I love to see Joan tell Tom Hanks that he was wonderful in The Grinch. And don't forget the joy of waiting for one of the Rivers' women to respond when they come back from commercial.

See, the great thing about waiting a month to talk about this is that only the most poignant moments remain in my tiny, bird-like mind. And this year was a whopper! Just as the Red Carpet show started, Joan was on camera delivering her thirty- seventh "I never have sex" joke and in the background, Sally Kirkland is stumbling over the ropes to get to the reporters. Now that's an. OSCAR MOMENT! Poor Sally, nominated once and now must wait for that one magic day each year when she can wedge herself into her latest fright gown and smile for an indifferent press. I guess if you are nominated, you have a lifetime pass to the show. Believe me, Louis Gosset Jr. isn't there each year hoping he is a write-in for his bitter sweet performance of Chappy in Iron Eagle 8. He won and now he has a "Get in free no matter how far your career has dropped" card. Sally and Louis being at the Oscars is as reliable as the rising of the sun or Don Johnson showing up at the opening of a Planet Hollywood. Given his career lately, Don Johnson would show up to the opening of a letter. I jest because I am insanely jealousALLRIGHT!!

Now, on to the show.

My first question is and will always be, "Why Whoopie" Was Steve Martin too witty last year It's not that I don't like her. It's just that when she tells a joke, no matter if it hits or misses, she always gives on of those, "Don't you get my funny joke" looks. And then there is the unbearable thirty seconds of Whoopie trying to find her show biz buddies in the crowd so they can snicker together. I don't think Will Smith left the show because his daughter was sick. I think he left so he wouldn't be constantly getting the "we know what I'm talking about" glance from the master of ceremonies.

The ceremony took place at the brand spanking new Kodak Theater in the heart of Hollywood. It was quite a sight. Even the prostitutes and kindly hobo's you meet in Hollywood were dressed to the nine's.

I'm not going to talk about the awards. That fish has long been fried. What I want to talk about now is the single most irritating thing about the awards. It has been a problem since I can remember watching them. Do you know where I'm going WRONG. I'm not talking about the length of the show. I'm sick to death hearing all the critics say how long the show ran. Really I didn't know that this show always ran long. That's as obvious as saying that Liza Minelli's new husband has had a few too many face-lifts. We know! What critic is thinking to himself that he really has found the Rosetta Stone by proudly standing on the mount, head held high, and declaring, " The show was long!" Come on. You hear them griping about how the speeches went on and on, especially by the "not important" winners. It's the Academy Award critic mantra. I tell you one thing, if I won one of those babies I would be thanking every member of the audience and their agents. This is the fifteen minutes that Andy, the hack, Warhol was talking about and I would use up every last minute on that stage. You really think that one of these sniveling morons would even give one of these smaller category nominees a two second sound bite NO. This is the only shot they have, so I say ta ke it.

Here's how you shorten the show. Don't have the presenters saunter across the stage as if they are in some home town beauty pageant. Is this to show off the clothes We already saw the clothes with our good friends, Joan and Mellisa. Have them hydraulically lifted to the microphone from under the stage. Maybe some colored smoke or some lightning effect. That should be followed by some booming voice of God introducing the presenter, "Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Yasmine Bleeth." There, that would shave a good 5 minutes off the running time.

How do we better the show Have fewer mimes and frightening harlequins backstage and more cool montages and tributes. These always seem to be the favorite portions of the show. Show longer clips. Especially the nominees for documentary, short subject, and animated short. That way we can see some of these talented peoples work without having to sit in some crappy art house theater gagging on the stench of patchouli oil.

A few things for next year. Please bring back Billy or Steve. No more dance numbers. Make Joan do some research for god's sake. And keep it as gaudy and glamorous as ever. It's the last bastion of old Hollywood. We need to keep it glitzy. If you want toned down, go check out the IFC awards where self loathing is a positive attribute. Well, that's all I can remember. Maybe a month was too long to wait. I try to find the highlights but all that comes to mind is the image of Whoopie cascading down upon me wearing some Peacock styled, Bob Mackie nightmare. Until next year. Almost forgot, Miss Kirkland, if you have an extra ticket for me to next years show, I will help shoe-horn you into your gown.