Make It Stop

Wake up, James Franco

All night, the SJG kept telling Cuzzy, commander of the remote control, to make it better, make it faster, make it stop. He gave it his best shot.  He pushed buttons and arrows and did some fancy high-tech maneuvers, but had no power over the Academy Awards.  Cuzzy couldn't make James Franco snap out of it, wake up and join the party.  JF looked so uncomfortable on stage, so get-me-out-of-here,  so-what-was-I-thinking, that I felt a little sorry for him, but not much.  Most of all, I felt tricked by all those funny promos that filled me with glee. I may have said the following:  This might be better than I thought.  Alas. The SJG was wrong, which is a very rare occurrence.  Anne Hathaway looked pretty in all her gowns, and tried very, very hard to overcompensate for her lackluster co host, but in the end, the whole dealio was a great big bombski.  Oh, it was painful on many levels.  Young demo, my tuchas.  Bring back the altacockers.  Bring back Billy Crystal.