Yesterday, the Independent Spirit Award nominees were announced. The prestigious award honors those who, through grit and determination, found a way to make movies outside the studio system where financing is scant.

Nominees for top honors this year include Jonathan Demme (director of the megahits Silence of the Lambs and Philadelphia), Jenny Lumet (daughter Sidney Lumet, director of the megahits The Verdict and Dog Day Afternoon) Anne Hathaway (star of the megahit The Devil Wears Prada, and megabomb Get Smart) and Debra Winger (star of the megahits Urban Cowboy and An Officer and a Gentleman).

Those names represent the very essence of studio independence, don’t you think?

This just whets my appetite for the annual Academy Award jerk-off festival.

Nothing says “It’s Christmas time in the city!” better than some festive holiday lights. And I can’t think of a better use for those tiny white lights than to decorate some scaffolding outside a construction site.

That took some time! Doesn’t it just warm your heart? This scaffolding is on 6th Avenue one block south of 34th Street by Macy’s. The area is choked with tourists and here in New York City, we like to put on our prettiest face for the out-of-towners during the holidays. Do you suppose the scaffolding is similarly decorated in the Bronx and the dicey parts of Brooklyn? It’s not likely.

I just passed a gentleman in an elegant business suit walking down 42nd Street between Madison and 5th Avenue who was carrying his leather briefcase in one hand and shaving with an electric razor with he free hand. For real! That’s an EXCELLENT example of multi-tasking during your morning commute.

IIIIIIIIII love New York…

Did you know that Ernest Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley, lost a satchel full of his early manuscripts in a Parisian train station in 1922? The satchel was never recovered. It was a traumatic event for poor ole’ Hem and he wrote about it on several occasions throughout his life. Imagine that.

This morning I accidentally deleted a post that I was going to tighten up on the train ride home and post in the evening. Believe it or not, as bloated and ill-punctuated as my posts are, I read through them at least once prior to posting. That way, I only appear to be functionally illiterate instead of completely ignorant.

I’ve learned to expect very little from any movie that’s made for children. That’s fair. I’m not their target audience. But once in a while a kid’s movie will sneak up on you and be unexpectedly satisfying. Did you see Kung Fu Panda? Fantastic. The animation was beautifully rendered and Jack Black gave a reserved performance (as opposed to his usual manic, over-the-top shtick). The opening dream sequence is a marvel and the title sequence wins the silver medal. (The gold medal for title sequences goes to Catch Me If You Can. It’s a minor work of art.) Did you see The Incredibles? Another winner. Those guys at Pixar are friggin’ geniuses.

I took 7 Year Old Daughter to a piece of celluloid junk called Bolt. Horrible. It was ugly to look at, the story was insipid and the two main characters were voiced by Hollywood asswipe John Travolta (In real life he’s a pilot, so when he had a son he named him Jet because God forbid the kid steals any attention away from him.) and Miley Cyrus. Miley Cyrus is a 15 year old who, in interviews, sounds like a 35 year old and posed provocatively in Vanity Fair. With her father. Ick.

I had free morning in Cleveland so I borrowed my sister’s car and drove to the Cleveland Art Museum. It has a world-class collection but, unfortunately, most of it was in storage because of a massive renovation project. They’re building a new wing and most of the museum is still closed off. There was a special exhibit of artistic luxury goods from Fabergé, Tiffany and Lalique that I didn’t really care about. Just a handful of galleries from the permanent collection were open.

Most of the paintings I wanted to see were all packed away. I began visiting the Clevo Art Museum decades ago—soon after I got my driver’s license—and seeing those paintings feels like visiting old friends again.

None of the modernist paintings were on display, but I did see Stag at Sharkey’s by George Bellows, which is one of my favorites in their collection. I think he mixed testosterone into the pigment for this one.

Also on display was one of J.M.W. Turner’s The Burning of the Houses of Lords and Commons, a nightmare drawn from the event he witnessed.

I left the museum and drove down Euclid Avenue into downtown Cleveland. Euclid is the main artery into the city and many of the businesses were closed and boarded up. I have a strange tendency to become emotionally attached to a city (see any of my posts about NYC) and it made me sad to see the city of my youth in such dire straits.

I had meant to take I-71 back to the hotel but the freeway entrance was closed and I somehow wound up heading down W. 25th street. It was such a mess. I passed a building with a sign out front that read Plasma Services and there was a long queue of people waiting to get in that stretched out the door.

We’re heading back to the East Coast tomorrow. It was nice visiting Cleveland but I’m looking forward to seeing New York City again on Monday morning. I’m not making any comparisons. It wouldn’t be fair. They’re in a different weight class. You don’t put Oscar de la Hoya in the ring against Joe Frazier. You compare New York to London, Paris and Tokyo. You compare Cleveland to other medium-sized cities like Seattle, Tampa and Baltimore. Clevo is a nice enough town as compared to those other fine municipalities, but NYC is deep under my skin and I miss it. Do I sound like a snob? I hope not. I don’t mean to.

At Benevolent Dictators, Inc., we outsource a significant amount of work to Mumbai. I hope my colleagues there are okay.