Grammy 1907

I watched part of the Grammy awards last night and was reminded of exactly how relevant and au courant they are. For one thing, the categories seem designed to award each competitor a little trophy, as if the entire ceremony were the last day of summer camp. Record of the Year, Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Performance of the Year, Recording of the Year, CD of the Year, MP3 of the Year, Digital Sound of the Year - nobody goes home empty handed. I went to bed before Most Improved Musician and Lanyard of the Year, so I cannot specifically comment on those categories, but I watched for approximately 18 hours, and I therefore have only a few summaries:

1. Dixie Chicks. Put a sock in it.
2. Chris Brown. Don't make me have to defend you when you act a fool in front of Smokey Robinson and Lionel Richie.
3. Smokey. Enough with the plastic surgery. If I slapped the back of your head, you would turn into Deputy Dawg.
4. Dixie Chicks. I told you once to put a sock in it.
5. Beyonce. We know you are beautiful. The invisible dress is not required.
6. I love eliminating the Dead Guy awards, but it did lead to some awkward transitions, like when Terrence Howard (call me!) was forced to segue from a Maria Callas tribute to a Mary J. Blige performance.
7. Dixie Chicks. If you think I am playing with you, you have another think coming.
8. India Arie, nominated for "I Am Not My Hair"? Thinking of starting rap war, with response song, "I Am My Hair, Bitch".
9. Luke Wilson. This is how we whore ourselves, now? I guess "Bottlerocket" meant more to me than it did to you.
And finally:
10. Dixie Chicks. If it weren't for the JT girls pawing one another like Miss America hopefuls all night, I would be on my way over. But first things first.