Prior to the release of 21, the most recently-released album to go Diamond was Usher's Confessions, which dropped in 2004. Among the very few artists with recent Diamond albums: Britney Spears (Oops!... I Did It Again), Eminem (The Marshall Mathers LP and The Eminem Show) and Norah Jones (Come Away With Me). That last album's similar success was tied, as was Adele's, to fans among older music-buyers: though present-day versions of young Eminem and young Brit haven't been able to move records, mom and dad don't know how to torrent music.

Daily reminder of your own mortality, now with more homophobia. (HuffingtonPost)

– The fact that this is the cover of Huffington Post's entertainment section is making us feel very sad, and very empty inside.

– Alex Rodriguez is busy lining up a limo full of champagne and coconut water for 33-year-old bikini model Kyna Treacy, his latest "I'm so over Cameron Diaz" conquest.

– If you thought Russell Brand was bad, just wait to you hear whom Katy Perry is hooking up with now. Okay, one hint: his racist penis has been inside Jessica Simpson.

– It's really frustrating when you have a brilliant idea and then realize someone's already made an entire Pinterist board of Claire Danes crying on Homeland.

11:23. Arcade Fire wins for The Suburbs. We forgot the cardinal Grammy rule, that the most recent performer always wins! Always (usually). Lady Gaga's hat shrouds her reaction. "We're going to go play another song--because we like music," says frontman Win Butler. Barbra and Kris wish everyone good night, as Arcade Fire play another song on their still-intact equipment--gosh, it's almost as though they knew they'd win. Those were the Grammys! (We wish there were puppets and Gwyneth in this final performance, still.)

11:21. Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson are presenting Album of the Year. What would be the biggest surprise--Katy, right? Go, Katy, then!

11:17. This commercial is now a week old, but the car that reads you your Facebook newsfeed narrowly defeats Justin Bieber to win the Grammy for Best New Awful Idea.

11:14. In all seriousness, good for Arcade Fire for being a group earnestly interested in musicianship and putting on a great show! Their losing to Lady Antebellum in like four minutes will be all the sadder now that we've had this fun together.

11:13. One understands that this is meant to be a spectacle--but with neither Gwyneth nor puppets, the spectacle simply doesn't come across. The lights are trying pretty hard to give us a seizure, though.

11:11. Arcade Fire begin their performance with a sea of blue light and a nation recalls a week-old halftime show.

11:05. The band's producer refers to them as "Lady A." It's almost as though he knows the name was engineered by Nashville to be pointlessly provocative!

11:04. The award goes to Lady Antebellum, "Need You Now." A good night for adult-contemporary radio. But isn't it always thus, those of you who were rooting for Cee-Lo or Eminem?

11:02. Professional awards-show presenter Jennifer Lopez and her husband Marc Anthony get to announce Record of the Year, somehow. If they give it, as per their want, to the most recent performer, it'll be Eminem and Rihanna, but it will be Lady Antebellum, right?

11:00. And so the awards show passed the three-hour mark with a performance of a song nominated for zero awards tonight. Rihanna is so charismatic--and this song so pleasant--that Katy Perry's Album of the Year nomination seems even more a historical accident.

10:59. Puffy's "one of the most consistent artists working" could be construed as faint praise for Rihanna. With the faint echoing ululations and the campfire, is this performance cross-promotion for Survivor's new season?

10:58. He's called Puff Daddy again now? He's a three-time Grammy winner, too?

10:52. Best Rap Album goes to Eminem, Recovery. They play Rihanna singing as he walks to the stage. This late-show award is his consolation prize for losing Album of the Year, right?

10:50. We were wondering how long it would take until Nicki Minaj showed up onstage, and how long until she hijacked an awards presentation by mugging. Respectively, two hours and fifty minutes, and (subtly, but still) three seconds.

10:49. In terms of lyrical content, "Evergreen" is rather like the "Teenage Dream" of the 1970s.

10:47. One imagines a passel of children are about to scamper out from underneath Barbra's very full skirt.

10:46. Kris Kristofferson is presenting Barbra Streisand's performance. Hopefully future Star is Born star Beyonce is paying attention!

10:40. Beyonce and Gwyneth are sitting together, and approve of Mick!

10:38. I guess it's good that those five banshees began the show, because I don't think I have the energy to deal with anything more demanding than Mick Jagger at this point. Good thing Barbra Streisand, likely in soothing beige, is performing soon!

10:36. Both Dylan and Jagger have gone largely unchanged in the past quarter-century--but in Jagger's case, that's a really good thing.

10:35. Mick Jagger doing a Solomon Burke tribute, as John Mayer nods hazily! The Kidman reaction-shot count for the show has been off the charts in terms of quantity and quality.

10:29. Do people become Academy Presidents simply to speak on TV for three minutes a year?

10:22. The two biggest awards tonight have seen Cee-Lo and Eminem fall to Lady Antebellum and Drake lose to Esperanza Spalding. One wonders to just whom Eminem will lose Album of the Year?

10:20. Best New Artist goes to Esperanza Spalding. Jewel chuckled before announcing the name, possibly because this is the category's biggest surprise in years--perhaps since Christina over Britney!

10:18. Was Adam Levine supposed to be in that performance? Did he become the girl singing the hook?

10:16. Eminem's refusal to sing either of his nominated songs ("Love the Way You Lie" or "Not Afraid") is pretty admirable, if only from a keeping-things-fresh perspective. Who is the obscured figure singing the hook?

10:15. Rihanna has probably chalked up the most Grammy performances in recent memory for a performer who's not really been honored. She's doing the same slow-walk-towards-Eminem we saw at the VMAs. Eminem, incidentally, is really incurring the censors' wrath on the audio-shutoff button.

10:14. Rihanna somehow overcame laryngitis to sing a pretty compelling "Love the Way You Lie, Part II." No one believes us that her version of the song is better than Em's!

10:13. Justin Bieber isn't sure if he should laugh at Seth Rogen's Miley joke.

10:12. The Grammys return from commercial playing a song they will hopefully never honor, "Like a G6."

10:05. Song of the Year. Did Keith Urban just tell the world's subtlest Taylor Swift joke to John Mayer ("This award went to John Mayer's 'Daughters'--the song")? The writers of Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now" take it.

10:02. This tiny, random "Jolene" trio is a nice aperitif after Katy. Is Dolly Parton going to come out, though?

10:01. Nicole Kidman singing along is empirical proof that "Teenage Dream" is the one song tonight that everyone knows. Also, it makes us wonder why Gwyneth is the Oscar winner who gets to sing.

10:00. Remember when Beyonce sang "You Oughta Know" at last year's Grammys and people wondered if she and Jay were okay? Those wedding images projected onto Katy's dress...

9:58. In all seriousness, it's nice to hear a downtempo non-single from Katy Perry--that said, her ascent to the ceiling indicates a huge overplayed hit may be in the offing!

9:57. That "oh-oh-oh-oh" from Katy Perry was the dark side of a decade of affirmation from vocal coaches.

9:56. It's so weird, seeing Neil Patrick Harris at an awards ceremony! It's such an unfamiliar sight--very refreshing!

9:50. While Gwyneth is in great voice, it's a little emblematic that her costume for this super-stagey performance is "Gwyneth Paltrow in pink earrings."

9:49. Gwyneth is, for the record, a far more compelling R&B singer than country star. Maybe she learned something from BFF Beyonce? She still looks like she doesn't quite know why she's there, though.

9:47. Jamie Foxx does the best SNL joke from December, introducing Cee-Lo and pretending "forget" is an obscenity. Cee-Lo is dressed as a Mardi Gras king. The puppets sadly do not include any familiar faces. Gwyneth hasn't yet shown, two minutes in.

9:46. Best Country Album: Lady Antebellum, Need You Know, feigning surprise as they come out from backstage. Was that the (unusually late) first time someone thanked God tonight?

9:43. Despite their name, Lady Antebellum are so versatile that they can do a tribute to an R&B singer, Teddy Pendergrass, and also a seventies-ish rock song about drunk-dialing! The antebellum period was so rich, you guys.

9:41. Lea Michele was extra-Lea Michele-y introducing Lady Antebellum. Does this band's name freak anyone else out? It's like Lady Gaga, just with extra nostalgia for when Americans held slaves.

9:39. So nutty that they don't present the lifetime achievement awards aren't presented during broadcast, especially as we'd have loved a Dolly Parton or a Julie Andrews speech.

9:32. Just as Usher saves all overproduced extravaganzas, Soy Bomb should save all Dylan raspathons.

9:30. We're not knowledgeable enough to make any remark about Mumford & Sons--although their beating Justin Bieber for Best New Artist seems, based on the last thirty minutes, totally plausible (never say never, guys!). But Dylan is in very Dylan-y voice. Do you think his version of vocal exercise is buying a pack of American Spirits?

9:26. A tribute to folk! A tribute to taking a five-minute break!

9:22. David Letterman, in the absence of a host, is presenting a Top Ten list. Lindsay Lohan theft jokes ahoy! It doesn't seem Justin Bieber got the joke about him.

9:21. Shocking that we made it to 9:21 before our first glimpse of Katy Perry. The award goes to Lady Gaga, The Fame Monster. She's wearing Beyond Thunderdome chic, with embossed rubber breastplate--and little plastic horns. The audio dropped out at the beginning of the speech, but Gaga ended by thanking Whitney Houston for inspiring "Born This Way." "I wasn't secure enough to imagine myself singing it." If only Whitney were in attendance! What a reaction shot that might have been.

9:20. Donnie Wahlberg--presenting with Selena Gomez. Is the New Kids revival over yet? Best Pop Album goes to, we're betting, Bieber, as he just performed.

9:18. Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" in the I Am Number Four commercial was the best performance of the night.

9:15. If Muse is a smeared carbon copy of Coldplay, pregnant Kate Hudson (as thanked by Muse frontman Matthew Bellamy) is this year's Gwyneth and Apple.

9:13. Some actress from NCIS just made a crack about the revolving-door policy at Paramore, while presenting an award with them: "I get to be in Paramore for the next few minutes." Best Rock Album goes to Muse, The Resistance, keeping up the Grammys' record of tipping their hand by letting winners perform.

9:12. It was so cool of Usher to let Justin sing the "My"s in "OMG."

9:11. For the second weekend in a row, Usher's "OMG" dance number saves a musical performance. Does he just have a hotline beleaguered performers can call?

9:09. Wondering what strings Will Smith pulled to get Justin Bieber to perform the song that features Jaden Smith tonight. Perhaps Big Willie's acting as Bieber's movie scout has a quid pro quo?

9:08. This is a timely Karate Kid-themed performance! "Never Say Never" is not Mr. Bieber's most compelling song ever.

9:07. Looking like a medley--we began with Bieber alone on guitar, but in comes the ski-masked apocalyptic drummers!

9:06. "Yeah, that was four years ago," says Usher, in the most uncomfortable spoken-word introduction to a Grammys performance since Britney in her childhood bedroom.

9:05. Ah, Eva Longoria! She's introducing Justin Bieber--and, for some reason having to do with the Bieber-as-legitimate-artist publicity blast, a YouTube video of Bieber singing a cappella in 2007.

8:52. The winner: Miranda Lambert, "The House That Built Me." Another performer whose sales are likely to rise substantially next week. She ends her speech, "I love country music."

8:57. During an awards ceremony all about unexpected intersections, it's funny that only country singers can present country awards. Also, Jewel is nominated for Female Country Vocal.

8:56. Monae's spontaneity is something pretty unique, at least in this broadcast. She seems a prime contender for the famous post-Grammys sales bump--your parents would buy that album!

8:55. Janelle Monae ought to just have had her own performance slot--she outdoes B.o.B and Bruno Mars easily, and wasn't really integrated with them to start with.

8:54. Taping an awards-show performance in black-and-white is the equivalent of Clint Eastwood's movies starting with vintage production-company logos--gravitas can't just be applied as a visual effect.

8:53. Did Bruno Mars need to be re-introduced in the middle of the performance? His ego, if nothing else, will guarantee longevity!

8:52. Janelle Monae has stood here, looking mildly bored, for three minutes or so.

8:50. B.o.B. and Bruno Mars sound, and look, unexpectedly solemn. We remembered this song as light-hearted?

8:49. "We've seen a lot of legends tonight," says Seacrest. Like Muse?

8:48. Nearly an hour in, one award presented. Those of us who love lists of names read quickly are waiting, CBS.

8:45. The Target commercial where Taylor Swift says, of her love life, "I'm naming names," remains one of the most negative aftereffects of last year's Grammys.

8:43. In other news, The Hollywood Reporter did a Twitter search for the word "Aguilera," and the results were mixed!

8:41. Wait, I guess I've seen the "Don't Tread on Me" flag in history class, but what could the images of banks physically collapsing mean? This performance has way too many shades of meaning.

8:39. Muse, I knew Radiohead. Radiohead was a favorite band of mind. And you, sir(s)...

8:38. Lenny Kravitz, introducing Muse. There are certainly a lot of lights going on in this performance!

8:37. Miranda Lambert dedicates her performance to "all the great artists who have come before us." "The House That Built Me" is a very pretty song--and a Song of the Year nominee. (Backstage-trouble-averted alert: Lambert was asked about Gwyneth Paltrow's new country side in an interview with Meghan McCain, for some reason, and said only, "I've heard mixed reviews.")

8:27. It was probably as weird as we could have expected--the alien imagery was a nice touch, and will have Vigilant Citizen going for months, but we expected, somehow, even more.

8:26. It took three minutes for Gaga to mess with the single--and she turns it into an Aretha-esque gospel number for a minute.

8:25. Not to be "like that," but the dancing in this number does recall our memories of Madonna's "Express Yourself" video, though the alien spa employee tunics are all Gaga.

8:24. Who can we credit with sharpening Gaga's shoulders?

8:23. Gaga's incubation period turned her into, we think, Mata Hari? She started in trench and big hat.

8:22. Ricky Martin is wearing very shiny pants, introducing Lady Gaga. Surprising that they didn't save this for later in the night if they weren't going to lead with it--plenty of people will tune out once this is over. (Not us, though. Never us.)

8:21. "Thanks, Justin Bieber, for not being a duo or group," says Train frontman Pat Monahan. Zeitgeisty!

8:20. Best performance by a Pop Duo or Group: "Hey, Soul Sister (Live)," Train. At least it wasn't Glee?

8:19. The five mini-Arethas are back to present an award. There weren't enough music-related celebrities to do this?

8:18. This isn't about the Grammys as such, but, wow, that commercial for Philadelphia's chicken-flavored "cooking creme" was foul!

8:13. That final melange of sustained notes was the zaniest diva-off since the Dreamgirls performances at the 2007 Oscars. The show should have led with Cee-Lo or Gaga, perhaps. Aretha--beamed in from Detroit--looks great, though!

8:12. The sound mixing on this is unexpectedly terrible--most of the singers are drowned out by the band.

8:11. The Grammys pride themselvess, as a show, on "unexpected juxtapositions," but it really would have been fine to have one singer do one Aretha song rather than this halftime show of sensory overload.

8:09. In terms of actual fealty to Aretha, Jennifer Hudson wins, but Florence Welch proving she can sing on TV without the distraction of, like, painted people cavorting behind her is a welcome surprise!

8:08. Jennifer Hudson singing "Respect" is more predictable than the sun rising in the east. But she's really good!

8:06. Legendary soul singer Martina McBride! Underplaying a song can be nice, too.

8:05. That was nice of them to let her sing first. Are enough people watching to exorcise Super Bowl ghosts?

8:04. Christina Aguilera clearly wants to be MVP.

8:03. "Aretha Franklin is, and always will be, the Queen of Soul." [cutaway to Justin Bieber, for what will surely not be the last time]

8:02. LL Cool J is, I guess, narrating the tribute?

8:01. Kind of unusual that they're leading with the Aretha tribute--the show opening usually goes to a splashy, mass-appeal pop act like last year's Gaga/Elton duet.

8:00. Apparently, Rihanna really is performing--they're advertising her even now--despite having laryngitis. I guess vocal difficulties haven't stopped her as yet?

7:58. Of course Andy Rooney began his segment--Oscar preview!--by talking about The King's Speech. He's on the right track, baby, he has aged this way.

7:51. Five-minute liveblogging break, to soak up Andy Rooney's wisdom. We wonder if the image we see of Andy is the real him!

7:50. That felt really short. What did we learn? Mainly that "this" is the real her, though it was so intercut with performance clips that "this" was rarely seen, and that she really likes coffee. Stars really are just like us!

7:49. "People take me both way too seriously and not seriously enough" may be the quote most worth parsing for "Born This Way"-era Gaga.

7:47. It's kind of surprising that Gaga writes music while high on pot--they sound so much more Adderall-y!

7:46. This trip to Gaga's old apartment is another Madonna rip-off--does anyone remember when Madonna went to her old studio apartment with Rupert Everett, for VH1?

7:45. Annals of deep cuts: we're recapping the 2009 VMA performance now.

7:44. This is actually a good point: Gaga has managed to keep all eyes on her without ever having a public personal life, really.

7:43. "I didn't want to wear any clothes today. I don't know why!" Gaga says on camera. Oh, I bet I could guess why!

7:42. Oh, now we remember, this interview took place during an on-again moment in Gaga's relationship with an English accent.

7:41. Anderson expresses himself, as it were: "Some of the imagery may remind you of Madonna."

7:40. "One of my greatest artworks is the art of fame." Oh, ugh, as she introduces herself to our grandparents, Gaga is back on that Warhol again, it seems!

7:38. It's always so strange to watch paparazzi in action, right? Also: Gaga seems never to have heard the word "regalia."

7:37. "Her frank talk about drugs may concern some parents."

7:36. Anderson Cooper uses that weird metric, "six number-one songs," to describe Gaga. She's actually only ever had two Billboard number-ones!

7:32. Just as Diddy[-Dirty Money] began to speak to Seacrest, we decided to check CBS. Gaga's interview with Anderson Cooper begins shortly! Then Andy Rooney! Then the ceremony.

7:31. It's too bad Nicole Kidman, wife of Keith Urban, has to go to music as well as film awards shows--she seems so uncomfortable! (We say this as a Kid-fan.) Seacrest saw Kidman in Just Go With It, and called her "hysterical." See you at the Oscars!

7:28. Seacrest congratulated Adam Lambert on his Grammy nomination--which he's already lost. Another Idol star up now, Jennifer Lopez, whose husband Marc Anthony says she's a judge with good instincts "when some of them, uh, aren't."

7:25. Does it not seem as though Miley Cyrus does not produce music or movies nearly as often as Grammy presentations? How many times has she been at this ceremony?

7:24. Willow Smith interview. There's so little I have to say about the Smith family!

7:21. 60 Minutes is just starting the Chilean miners segment. "This is the entrance to hell on earth," says the correspondent, who is not standing outside the Staples Center.

7:20. Also, a group including Herbie Hancock, Pink, and India.Arie won Pop Collaboration with Vocals. Competitors included Elton John and Leon Russell, "California Gurls," and "Telephone." Well, hm, congratulations, Herbie!

7:18. Patting ourselves on the back, as--per Wikipedia's exhaustive available list of nominees and winners--Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars won the vocal performance Grammys we predicted for them at 6:37. Sorry, Beyonce!

7:16. When asked what's next for him, Swizz Beatz lists various ad campaigns, including one for Aston-Martin. His wife, Alicia Keys, is at home "being a lovely mom," though she's nominated for Record of the Year. Okay!

7:15. Ricky Martin is here, promoting his Broadway revival of Evita. How long it's been since 1999. He ends with "Peace, y'all."

7:14. Giuliana Rancic just called OK Go "artistic."

7:11. This is the most E! sentence ever: Ryan Seacrest is asking the kids from Glee if they saw Lady Gaga's egg. Thank God Dianna Agron said she's more excited about seeing Bob Dylan. Should we wait on the "Blonde on Blonde" episode?

7:09. Two unrelated things: this Slate article, on how a secret committee can overrule the voted-on nominees to add nominees that will goose ratings; and Katy Perry's Album of the Year.

7:05. Oh, huh, Kim Kardashian is here. Wasn't she just at Fashion Week? How did she make it out to L.A. and Kanye didn't?

7:03. Paramore is here, after the band's split-up, and headwoman Hayley Williams gets to speak first. The plot of the "Don't Speak" video haunts us still!

7:01. Urf, 60 Minutes is leading with Egypt, then Chilean miners, THEN Gaga. Back to E! we go. The preview indicates Anderson Cooper got to hear "Born This Way" before the rest of us.

7:00. Giuliana just asked Donnie Wahlberg if he ever gets used to New Kids on the Block superfans. He claims he doesn't--not even by now? It's been, uh, a while!

6:58. Jordin Sparks was dressed by the wardrobe department of Disney's Prom.

6:55. Julianne Hough has landed. We're changing to CBS soon, FYI.

6:52. Seacrest's interviews with Drake and Nicki Minaj have now both hinged on upcoming movie deals. Does every member of Young Money--nay, every musician?--just want to get into movies? We blame Justin. Both Justins.

6:50. Drake's mom is absolutely delightful! She is wearing black sequins and rimless glasses. Seacrest asks if she gets uncomfortable when he "pushes the envelope," which, like, does he really?

6:48. Selena Gomez chose her dress because it "looks like an award" (it's gold). We may change to Gaga on 60 Minutes, very shortly!

6:45. Hudson is to be a part of the show-opening Aretha tribute with, among others, Florence Welch and Christina Aguilera. No don't-forget-the-lyrics jokes allowed!

6:43. The camera caught Jennifer Hudson a second before she started her interview with Seacrest--she looked tremendously uncomfortable. Bad memories from the Idol days?

6:40. The show's producer is speaking to Seacrest: the tribute to Aretha Franklin is "a valentine." Poor Ciara has to stand in front of the awful E! 360-degree camera.

6:37. Further, completely unschooled predictions: Drake for Best New Artist (Bieber's recent renaissance in the media, fueled by his new film, was a little late-breaking for voters); Eminem for Album of the Year; Lady Antebellum for Song, Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars for Female and Male Pop Vocal Performance.

6:35. "We're looking for Miley, we're looking for Katy Perry, we're looking for Rihanna. I see LL Cool J!" --E!'s Ryan Seacrest, in an accidental statement on the vicissitudes of fame

6:34. "She is willing to do things no one else is willing to do--except maybe magician David Blaine." --E!'s Giuliana Rancic

6:32. The creative director is really businesslike when dealing with Seacrest--and has her own E! series forthcoming, somehow! She got Gaga's egg out of there by saying, "She's dilating!"

6:30. Seacrest is interviewing Gaga's "creative director." Gaga is "incubating." Now he's talking to a "supermodel nurse," with horns on her face. They refuse to disclose the egg's material but tell us her heart rate. This all goes back, somehow, to the Illuminati, right?

6:28. Among the major nominees, several have already won prizes during the pre-ceremony: Lady Gaga (Short Form Video), Eminem (Rap Solo Performance), and Lady Antebellum (Country Performance by Duo or Group, Country Song). We're calling it now: Lady Antebellum will win Record of the Year. It's just bland enough!

6:24. Bruno Mars's hair is practically as tall as Minaj's. "I love simple songs that hit you right in the face."

6:22. Minaj's leopard skirt, hairdo, and tights seems a takeoff on Lady Gaga's similar togs in the "Telephone" video, itself was a takeoff on Shania Twain. She calls it "lioness meets her cub meets fierceosity meets fashionista." Seacrest is talking about some rumors of a Minaj film musical, about which we hadn't heard!

6:17. Nicki Minaj is wearing leopard-print and a blonde Afro wig; David Guetta is wearing acid-print jeans. Meanwhile Kathy Griffin brings out the weirdest things in Seacrest--he just recited some R. Kelly lyrics.

6:14. Seacrest is talking to Lenny Kravitz about his new tattoo. Other early winners: the Beatles for Best Historical Album and Toy Story 3 for best score.

6:12. They're recapping last year's fashion--so as we wait, the pre-ceremony winners included Rihanna's "Only Girl in the World" for Dance Recording and the Black Keys's Brothers for Alternative Album.

6:09. Now they're asking Florence Welch if she'd ever guest on Glee, and if she's met James Franco or Justin Bieber. Good thing she didn't release an album this year, or she might get offended!

6:07. Every awards show must pay homage to Glee this decade. Matthew Morrison claims his castmates are jealous of his upcoming solo album: "They're all tethered to Glee." Oops!

6:05. Seacrest to B.o.B.: "How many collaborations have you been on in the past twelve months?" "[silently counts on fingers] Maybe twenty?"

6:04. In the absence of even the most desperate celebrities, Seacrest is applying Zapruder-like scrutiny to Gaga's egg. Perhaps this is all a front for the American Egg Board?

6:02. Seacrest leads the red-carpet show by mentioning Bieber, Katy Perry, and Lady Gaga. Sorry, Florence + the Machine fans!

5:59. E! just announced that their gathering of Lady Gaga impersonators set a Guinness world record. We wouldn't have imagined Guinness was keeping track...

5:58. Lady Gaga entered the awards inside a giant egg constructed of what seems to be Plexiglas. What a way to subvert the who-are-you-wearimng crowd--no one can see what she's wearing, exactly! Maybe it's Uggs and sweats.

ddaddario@observer.com :: @DPD_

The choices are, like always, fairly obvious. But how will these performers use their time in the spotlight. A few off-the-cuff predictions: Lady Gaga will dance while balancing a to-scale replica of the MIR Space Station on her head, an Elton-less Eminem will inevitably disappoint, and Katy Perry will continue her assault on subtlety by launching fireworks as she sings "Firework." Arcade Fire, the only rock band on hand, will be dull in a playing field as stacked as this.

No word on whether the rumors of a Britney Spears performance have any legitimacy. But we're still holding out hope!

The real wild card on this line-up is Cee-Lo Green, who will be playing song with a title that's given The New York Times some issues. Good luck with that one, guys working the five second delay!

Click for What Twitter Taught Us: Piers Morgan Defends A Cell-Abusing Arianna

nfreeman [at] observer.com | @nfreeman1234

Andy Samberg: The “Best Intro-er of People Intro-ing Things Ever!”

This just in: Andy Samberg is really funny! As host, the Saturday Night Live star pulled out every tool from his bag of comedy tricks—a Rolodex of famous friends, pre-produced bits, musical parodies, a predilection for the word “dick”—and matched that with a perfect blend of “happy to be there” charm and “this is the stupidest thing ever” snark. (At one point he told the crowd, with the utmost amount of faux-sincerity: “This is our Woodstock, guys!”) Well done! Now if the Oscars could only figure out a way to have him and Justin Timberlake share hosting duties in 2010, we could be on to something.

Irrelevance-Off: Eminem Versus Bruno!

Party like it’s 2005? Whether or not the semi-teabagging stunt that Sasha Baron Cohen (as his alter-ego, Bruno) pulled on Eminem was real or not—for the record, despite the protestations of Ryan Seacrest, cast our vote for “not real,” if only because the camera angles were too perfect—we couldn’t get past the notion that the buzz surrounding these two lightning rod performers has seriously worn off. A tip: When the subversive becomes the expected, it ceases to be subversive. As for the incident, we sure hope one of the parties involved clears up what happened on his MySpace page.

A Tale of Two ‘Tween Heartthrobs: Robert Pattinson & Zac Efron!

Obviously, for girls of all ages, a large part of Robert Pattinson’s appeal is his brooding nature. But while receiving his many awards—Best Kiss, Best Breakthrough Male and perhaps even Best Hairline, though we can’t be sure—the Twilight star came off like a supreme jackass: aloof, humorless and utterly devoid of charm; he’s one-note. Contrast that with Zac Efron, who gave a very genuine and heartfelt speech while accepting his award for Best Male Performance, and, later, killed as part of a hilarious tribute to Ben Stiller that also featured Kiefer Sutherland and Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Mr. Efron is hella talented and he can dance. We’d like to see Robert Pattinson do that!

Less diamond and more gruff is the silho of a devilish-looking Charlie Rangel peeping out of the lower-right corner of the page. He's looking surly because the mayor is yelling at him for a joke he made about President Barack Obama's Greatest Date Night Ever, which transpired Saturday night and involved restaurant and Broadway, which pretty much makes the Obamas no more sophisticated than any other tourists who come to New York. So Mr. Rangel advised the president to avoid East Harlem, where he believes tensions could be on the wax over the "friendly-fire" shooting of a black police officer by a white one. Ask the locals! According to the teaser text on the front page of the Post, it's Mr. Rangel who has been laying low since his unfortunate remarks, which have earned him the sobriquet "CHARLIE WRONGEL" on this morning's wood.

Daily News: That's one way to cover the story of Omar Edwards, the police officer who was shot dead by fellow officer Andrew Dunton four days ago. And the News does give Mr. Rangel's comments (and Mr. Bloomberg's scolding) a little space at the bottom of its cover story. But today's News is dominated by a report from the police-firefighter football match at which the late Edwards would have been a star. A football enthusiast who cherished major-league football dreams, he was a star player on the police's football team; his department's win against the firemen has resulted in a trophy that will be left to his widow. On the cover, "HE'S A HERO" is the main hed, over a picture of fellow officer Robert Lavender hoisting his fallen comrade's No. 23 jersey. "NYPD teammates win for slain cop," reads the dek. It's more than half the page, vertically, and, well, the layout is not brilliant. The text doesn't seem to fill the space properly; sometimes white space is nice, but this is a tabloid, no? It seems like this is the kind of piece you could have given even more room to, and the display would have worked out better dimensionally.

Because very little is gained with the paper's use of the rest of its space: a red box with knockout type declares, "'Twilight' shines at MTV awards." Oh, there is also a bullet point underneath. Are you following us? "Plus 'Bruno's' full moon!" What can that mean? Last night's stupid joke in which Sasha Baron Cohen's mincing Austrian descends butt-first onto the face of notoriously fag-bashy "rapper" Eminem has gotten enough ink already. For now I'll just point out: Is it really the gays who win in this kind of reverse-baiting of career homophobes? O.K., enough about "Bruno, Not Good for the Gays." I don't want to get too earnest. WAIT A MINUTE: "ABORT DOC KILLED IN CHURCH," the News declares across the bottom of the front page. "SEE PAGE 8." Or, you know, don't. If there's anything new there, they didn't bother to flag it.

General observations: I'm tempted to call this essentialy a "bye" in favor of the News, since the Post gives up so much of its front page to a promotion that will only entice people nobody needs as readers. But "WRONGEL" is pretty great in that way that groaners are on the front of the Post. And the News front page is just bizarre: It looks like they stuck in a cover story and then went to Digg to figure out what tons of people had already read about on the Internet to fill in the blanks. Still, we appreciate that the News found something reportable about the friends and coworkers of the slain cop where the Post piled on to this manufactured dispute between Michael Bloomberg and Charlie Rangel that tells you nothing new about either of them. So!

Winner: Daily News

The fancy Tribeca lodge is geared toward people who value their privacy, like Mr. De Niro himself. It's supposed to be a quiet retreat where guys like Patrick Dempsey can lift weights in peace and where the rapper Eminem can safely avoid eye contact with other humans, entirely.

Good thing. The celebrity-friendly inn is operating at only an "estimated 50% occupancy rate," the hotel's "grimacing" lawyer informed the local community board this week, according to Eater. ("That grimacing 'lawyer' was [Greenwich co-owner] Richard [Born]," Ira Drukier, one of Mr. De Niro's partners, clarified in an email to The Observer.)

The place seemed almost too peaceful when I last visited the intricately designed hotel one afternoon this past November. I spotted only two guests chatting in a room off the lobby before a guy resembling the actor Kevin Spacey wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball cap darted from an elevator and out the door.

While a half-empty hotel might suit Mr. De Niro's sensibilities, other hoteliers are likely not thrilled by the overall downward trend in bookings.

Industry analyst John A. Fox, senior vice president at PKF Consulting, said preliminary figures at hotels in Manhattan last month indicate "the lowest occupancy for a January since 1994" with revenues down about 30 percent from January 2008.

And it only gets worse in February: "I have seen data that indicates that for the week ended Feb. 7, citywide occupancy was about 56% and that for the same week hotel room revenues were down about 44% from the same week in 2008," Mr. Fox told The Observer via email.

Kay McConaughey, mother to Matthew, wrote a book called I Amaze Myself. The excerpts on her Web site seem to frame it as some kind of self-help tome. Sample:

Or three! Anyway, unofficial leaks quickly revealed that it also includes the revealation that Papa McConaughey died during sex, along with details about his, uh, anatomy.

Janis Winehouse, mother to Amy, frequently speaks to the press, and gave a long interview to the Daily Mail in which gave details about her troubled daughter’s childhood, drug use, self-mutilation, and relationships:

John Voight, father to Angelina Jolie, uses the press as a means of attention-getting/communication with his daughter after she famously cut him off for prematurely announcing the adoption of her son Maddox.

Dina Lohan, mother to Lindsay, long turned a blind eye to her daughter's behavior in exchange for B.F.F. status with her offspring, but now has an E! show called “Living Lohan," which chronicles her attempts to turn Lohan calfs Ali and Cody into cash cows.

Alec Baldwin, father to Ireland, detailed his custody battle with ex-wife Kim Basinger over their daughter, calling the work A Promise to Ourselves. This is the same daughter whom he abused over the phone two years ago.

Connie Meester, mother to Leighton, is currently shopping a memoir detailing her "life journey from drug ring co-conspirator to suburban real estate agent to author." Her daughter reportedly approves of the deal.

Debbie Nelson, mother to Eminem, wrote  My Son Marshall, My Son Eminem, a memoir of her fraught relationship with her son, who famously sang about raping and killing her.

Candy Spelling, mother to Tori, has a tell-all in the works, which will presumably include her side of her on-again-off-again feud with daughter, who has already released a memoir and has another in the pipes.

Susan Ryan Jordan, mother to Meg Ryan, wrote "The Immune Spirit," ostensibly a memoir about her battle with cancer, though it mostly seemed to be about her battle with an estranged daughter.

Nancy Aniston, mother to Jennifer, recently wrote an account of her estrangement from her daughter called "From Mother to Daughter to Friends."

Kit Culkin, father to the Culkin children, wrote I Don’t Think So about his career as one of the worst stage parents in history, and Lost Boy, a collection of impressions of Michael Jackson, the bulk of which is based on the time his son Macaulay spent with him. Both are available as downloads from his Web site!

Jaid Barrymore, mother to Drew, posed for Playboy eight months after her estranged daughter did. Some other things, too, but that's what, um, sticks out.

Eminem, who has not put out an album since 2004's Encore, is calling the book The Way I Am. The Way I Was maybe didn't have the same ring to it.

Everyone has a right to a Saturday night, but—especially as summer approaches—please try to remember that you live on a very residential block, and when you start blaring the Killers, U2 and Kanye West on a constant loop from 2 p.m. to 5 a.m., it can make your neighbors want to throw things at you. And I have. Eggs, cream, cheap whiskey, sticks of gum, clumps of cat litter. Who knew a slotted scooper made such an excellent catapult? No pun intended. I’ve never hit anyone, of course. I usually wait until the party has adjourned inside and you’ve left the Counting Crows whining outside for my 6 a.m. listening enjoyment.

When you survey the damage in the noon-light of day, do you collapse into a fluorescent lawn chair and say, “Dude, things really flew off the hizzandle last night— someone brought cat litter!” I wish you would only look up. See that window framed in grape vines? It’s raining obscure food items, gentlemen, and I am the rainmaker.

The question these days is: Who owns Saturday night? More often than not, I tend to stay in on Saturday nights. I feel pretty good about this, having made enough of an inebriated buffoon out of myself on, say, Wednesday. For years now it’s been said: “Saturdays are for amateurs.” Sometimes I even try to get work done on Saturdays—so, boys, unless you intend on cutting me a check for a couple grand for every night I can’t hear myself think, please keep it down past 11 p.m. Yes, you’re that loud. Loud enough that I always regret, in the cold silence of Sunday, that I forgot to buy better earplugs. Loud enough that even huddled against one wall, I can’t escape the noise.

You see, I’m not even your neighbor, technically. We don’t have the same set of mailboxes. I live in the brownstone next-door, facing the back just like you. And I have my own crazy noisemakers to deal with: the fighting couple, the fighting couple’s make-up sex, the late-night redecorators. If it was traffic or construction or people on the street, I would be able to sleep through this madness. Those are the noises we all sign up for living in Manhattan, and I find them strangely soothing. But there is something rural about the noise you make. At first I wondered if I was being a noise snob. If you replaced Coldplay with Arcade Fire, Eminem with Ghostface Killah and Bud Light with Stella, would I be equally as annoyed?

I thought long and hard about this and decided: yes. Irritation knows no genre.

Last night, as I lay awake, my organs being vibrated by your speakers, I found myself imagining what the e-mail invitations for your gatherings look like. In my head, your subject line reads: “It’s that time of year again!” Your greeting: “Yo, peeps.” Your instructions: “We have three kegs, but it’s bring your own ice luge.” Your sign-off: “Feel free to bring friends, especially of the female persuasion. Peace out—and let the battle for the Beer Pong Champion of ’06 commence!”

Who doesn’t like an old-fashioned game of beer pong? I know I do. Getting that white ball in the last cup when you’re already piss-drunk makes you feel like you’ve mastered physics and phys ed all at once. But here’s the problem: The courtyard walls push sound upward, giving me and the rest of your neighbors the unique pleasure of being able to hear your party better than you can. It’s like being in a Bang and Olufsen store, except not fun. Sometimes you just don’t want to feel the music. This is the West Side, not Murray Hill, for Christ sakes—show some respect for yourself.

Unfortunately, the music is only half the battle. By some miraculously cruel feat of sound waves, I can hear not only the blaring bass of “Gangsta’s Paradise” but that ping-pong, pong-ping all night. Oh, and every conversation you have. Trevor, you and Mike were playing doubles with Ashley and Becca, and when you guys went in to get the Jager shots, Becca told Ashley that she’s been cheating on you for two months. With Mike. Do with this information what you will, but she seems pretty torn up about the whole thing, especially since Mike gave her herpes. If it was indeed him. Apparently there have been others. Anyway, Trevor, that’s about when you heard “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” screamed “Oh, hells yes!” and turned it up. So that’s all I got.

What’s funny about all this is that we’ve had this conversation before. You were probably too drunk to remember it. It was when you moved in about a year ago. On some idle Tuesday, you had a massive party and I had the flu. Around 2 a.m., I put on my winter coat and a pair of flip-flops and went out into the street. I followed the crowds funneling into your apartment like an Abercrombie clown car and asked to speak with whomever lived there. Trevor, that’s when you and I first met. Genial fellow, you slung your arm around me and offered me a beer. I coughed on you, said thanks but no thanks, and explained my predicament.

“I hate to be the asshole,” I sniffled.

“How ’bout this?” you offered, you ex-international-relations major you: “Party’s winding down …. ”

Just then, a man wearing only a Red Sox cap on one head and a powdered doughnut on the other came rushing past us.

“How about if it’s not dead by 6 a.m., you come back here and we’ll turn it down?”

“Listen to me”—I put my fists of used tissues on your shoulders—“I don’t even live in your building. That’s how loud you guys are.”

You were befuddled by this information and, instead of taking it as a sign of just how badly you were disturbing the peace, you said, “Oh, then what’s the problem?”

Oh, Trevor, what choice did I have? For some reason, at this particular party you had a basket of gold boxes containing chocolate outside your door. Without thinking, I swiped the basket and marched out. I flip-flopped up to the 72nd Street subway station and gave it to a homeless person. I saved a fistful of chocolates for myself, of course. I had intended to eat them, but I think it’s safe to say guilt comes more naturally to me than it does to you. Thus, I decided to recycle my spoils by opening my window once more. I threw them one by one into the abandoned plastic cups of beer on the ping-pong table. I think I may have actually gotten a few in. It thrilled me.

With that, guys in the garden apartment, let the battle for the Beer Pong Champion of ’06 commence! I’m off to buy milk and let it sour in my fridge.

Peace out,

Your Neighbor