The Oscar nominations were announced this morning. And it had nothing to do with Madonna. Remember when people, many months ago, were blowing it out their asses that she'd have a chance? Please. The Hollywood Foreign Press Association is a giant eyeroll.  

Here's Madge at the NY premiere of W.E. last night in Marchesa. As you know, 9.5 times out of 10, I can't deal with Marchesa. It's overrated, it's gawdy, it's obnoxious... and that means it's perfect for Madonna. Look at her, swanning about like she's in heat, in a gown made for a minor royal hanging on to her 50s. Princess Michael of Kent? She has her eye on this too.

Later on, at the afterparty, holding hands with her man Brahim, she changed into a beautifully cut pantsuit without wiping the smugness off her face. It'll be a while before I stop thinking of "Playboyus Maximus" whenever I see her. Maybe the Super Bowl will change this. Maybe at the Super Bowl Madonna won't be the woman who tells bad jokes, clawing to keep a coolness that seems to have abandoned her, in search of someone less desperate.