I witnessed two sides of showbiz this weekend: A new show that I fell in love with and an old program that I have adored for a lifetime.
The first show was an off-Broadway production called "Forever Dusty" at an intimate, packed theater. This brisk musical told the story of Dusty Springfield, a husky-voiced singer from the 70s who defied sexual, racial and societal norms of the times. It was fabulous, with terrific music, an immensely talented five-person cast and a true passion for the art of inspirational storytelling. The star of the show, who also co-wrote the script, made time to greet the audience afterward and sign autographs. "Dusty" was the highlight of our fun weekend in New York, illustrating that there's no people like show people, like no people we know...
The next day, we left the Big Apple to return to Philly. It was Oscar night, so we wanted to get back to our nests to hunker down.
The evening started off with a question mark when I realized that one of the Red Carpet hosts was a Real Housewife of Some Wealthy American City. She wore a tacky dress with a neck line that plunged to her esophagus and America kept waiting for her nipples to make their television debut. She had no interviewing talent, no savvy and no bra. It was no good.
Onto the actual Academy Awards show.
It started off slow.
It got even slower.
When you start monitoring the clock by your bedside to see how much longer the opening segment will last, you know this will not be an entertainment affair to remember.
Oscar hosts, may I share a little secret? We don't give a #%!@! about you. We are watching to see the stars, so please don't act like a self-centered blind date who only talks about himself, then adds a few more stories about himself, only to top it off with a quirky tale or two about - you guessed it! - himself.
And do you know what happens when a date becomes annoying? Everything starts to seem creepy. For example, Seth MacFarlane's clapping began to sound tinny and relentless. And the song and dance number from the 2002 movie Chicago seemed jaw-droppingly out of place. Did I miss something? Perhaps - I'll admit that I dozed off periodically throughout the three-and-a-half hour show.
And that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Oscar. I may have mentioned it before, but allow me to recap: YOU ARE MUCH TOO LONG WINDED. Michelle Obama was lovely, but how many fans were still watching by the time she made her appearance? You need to whittle down the Academy Awards or you'll soon go the way of Miss America, with lots of gowns and no audience.
Yes, I love you, Oscar, and I always have. 
But this year, I felt distant from you. Was it because you didn't seem to have a smidgen of the love or the drive that I saw the day before on a New York stage?
Think about it, you big hunk of golden wonder.
Maybe next year you'll drop all the gobbledygook and put on a real show for those of us who absolutely worship you.