The 49th Grammys - How you like me now?

The official theme of last night’s Grammy Awards seemed to be “Nyah, nyah nyah nyah nyah,” or, as Natalie Maines put it, quoting “the Simpsons,” “ha, ha!”

Mary J. Blige, whose album “The Breakthrough,” was, as we were so frequently reminded last night, a “breakthrough,” and whose performance last night was apparently also a “breakthrough” of some sort, thanked 55 people in her first acceptance speech, including Jesus, and “Father God” TWICE. By the time she got around to thanking her tape delivery guy (unfortunately, I’m not kidding), they started to play her off, but she plowed ahead, undeterred. They didn’t dare cut her off entirely, though, as anyone who saw the show last night knows what Ms. Blige does to those who cross her - she’ll devote one section of an award acceptance speech to making snide remarks about them: "It has not only shown that I'm an artist and a musician and a writer, but it's also shown that I'm growing into a better human being. Tonight we celebrate the better human being, because for so many years, I have been talked about negatively, but this time I'm being talked about positively by so many people."

Although as a 10-year resident of the glorious San Fernando Valley, I do have to acknowledge Ms. Blige for the following bit of wisdom: “It’s in the valley where you learn who you really are.”

Word.

I’ve always liked MJ Blige, as she seemed to have more going on upstairs than CERTAIN so-called “divas” I could name, but after that speech last night, I am really glad I never talked shit about Ms. MJB.

Except I just did. Damn.

Another winner who couldn’t resist gloating was Ludacris, who, besides modestly thanking “all the people who made this masterpiece happen,” also sarcastically thanked Oprah (who famously doesn’t care for the rappers so much) and Bill O’Reilly, whose rants against Ludacris were credited with getting him fired from a muy-lucrative Pepsi ad campaign. Ludacris, who was freakin hilarious on Saturday Night Live, by the way, playing an Elton John-obsessed hair restoration specialist, also theorized that all it took for him to finally win a Grammy was to cut his hair. Not so, Mr. Chris “Ludacris” Bridges. All it takes to win a Grammy is to host SNL, do a couple of high-profile movies for white audiences, and make albums that the kids don’t care about anymore.

So, mission accomplished.

But the biggest “fuck y’all” of the night came from the Dixie Chicks, who won 5 Grammys, including Song of the Year, Outstanding Country (suck it, hicks!) Album, Record of the Year, and Album of the Year. Yes, it’s hard to believe that in a year when the uber-fabulous Gnarls Barkley dominated the airwaves with one of the most popular cross-over songs ever, a song that was immediately covered by artists ranging from Nelly Furtado to The Raconteurs to Cat Power to Shawn Colvin to The Zutons, that they couldn’t snag Record of the Year over a song like “Not Ready to Make Nice,” but such is the way of the Grammys. Maybe if Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse had performed their song dressed as the Dixie Chicks instead of airline employees…

Well, hindsight. You know.

Don’t get me wrong, I really do love the Dixie Chicks, and by “love,” I mean, I love them, and the idea of them, really much more than I love their music, which tends to be a teeny-tiny bit on the over-produced side. Seriously. I mean, LORD KNOWS I appreciate the sentiment being expressed in “Not Ready to Make Nice,” which of course is their answer to all the boneheads who turned against them for not liking our president, but that song sounds like the pitch corrector chewed them up and spit out Ashlee Simpson X3.

But let’s take a look at the lyrics for “Not Ready to Make Nice:”

It's a sad, sad story
that a mother will teach her daughter
that she ought to hate a perfect stranger.
And how in the world
can the words that I said
send somebody so over the edge
that they'd write me a letter
saying that I better shut up and sing
or my life will be over?

Death threats. Okay…you can kind of understand why the Academy of Recording Arts would want to stand behind their gals. And so, fine, I am down with the accolades, but still, you’d think that, given everything that has gone on, that they would have prepared an acceptance speech that acknowledged the controversy in an intelligent way, and showed that, in spite of the conflict, they are bigger than those that opposed them.

No such luck. While the sisters were both gracious, if not eloquent, Natalie Maines acted as if a Grammy, a freakin’ Grammy, would make her enemies eat their hearts out. Her various attempts at acceptance speeches never got any more meaningful than when she clumsily offered that “I think people are using their freedom of speech tonight with all of these awards.” Wow. Talk about an opportunity wasted.

Some other thoughts on the evening:

- So the motherfucking Police play together after 20 years, on international television, for millions of people, and Sting has to go and mess up Roxanne by making it all fake-jazzy in the really annoying way of his. Ugh. How disappointing. At least none of them got fat.

- When Jamie Fox, who joked that Snoop Dogg fled the building and was “Crip walkin’ down the 405” after hearing that “the Police” would be at the broadcast, did not get a laugh, he lamented that “that joke would kill on BET.”

Yes, Jaime, no doubt that the viewers of “Beef: The Series” would be rolling in the aisles. But let’s not set the bar too high, eh?

- What’s up with the Justin Timberlake nose cam? Justin, darling, we all benefit from a little aesthetic distance, especially a man who seems to be hoping people won’t notice that he is, in fact, white. I mean, really, Justin, is it just coincidence that every single person in your 30-piece band is black, or is it some kind of rule that you have?

- I'm sorry, but I love Shakira. She is fucking HOT. Because she dances with abandon, like she means it, instead of dancing with the studied vanity of CERTAIN so-called “divas” I could name, who look more like strippers in need of a pole.

- Note to the producers of the show: when you put a big blow-out orchestra, with a huge choir, and a huge string section, behind every single performance on your show, it kinda loses its impact after a while.

- Stevie Wonder needs someone who is not blind to give him wardrobe advice.

- Rascal Flatts playing tribute to the Eagles was dubbed by Spooney as “Life in the Lame Lane.” Dammit, I wish I’d thought of it first.

- Smokey Robinson: “So take a good look at my face. You’ll see my smile looks out of place. If you look closer, it’s easy to see that my plastic surgeon pulled it WAY too tight.”

- You could see Sam Jackson’s man boobs through his Nehru-jacket-y-thing. Looks like someone has let himself go after finding out that he can’t just jerk off into a film can for $10 million every year.

- Lionel Richie: “Hello? Is it me you’re looking for? Because I am like, so available.”

- Beyonce won the bad wig of the night award, but only because Tony Bennett has won the award so many times he is permanently disqualified.

- By far the best moment of the night was at the end of the “In Memoriam” segment, when James Brown’s cape guy brought out his GFOS cape, and hung it over the mikestand.

Rest in peace, Godfather of Soul. I hope you’re in a better place now, a place without crappy, self-important awards shows.

Glutton for the snark? Read my review of last year’s Grammys.