The High Point: Hearing Sting shout "We're The Police and we're back!"
The Low Point: Watching Al (aka Husband of Tipper/PMRC) Gore, co-present with Queen Latifah, the Grammy for Best Rock Album (The Red Hot Chili Peppers/Stadium Arcadium).
The Medium Version: I would have preferred to see The Police perform for the next three hours than pretty much anything that followed their performance of "Roxanne."
The Long Version: Who caught the irony of Al Gore co-presenting an award commemorating a rock album to a band that early in their career frequently took the stage (and album covers) naked? Perhaps if Mr. Tipper had a clue, he might have opted out, but what's more important -- his message and his public persona, or the principles and the stick-up-his-ass stiffness that truly personifies him?
I'm not questioning Al Gore as a guy; I think, like John Kerry and even His Royal Stupidness, George W. Bush, Gore is a good man. However, the irony -- to me, at least -- was not only palpable, but almost comical.
What would have been even more delicious, at least for me, was if Ludicris received an award presented by Gore and his response to Mr. Tipper was "Thanks, motherfucker, you the tits."
Oh well...there's always next year.
Sign The Apocalypse is Upon Us: Scarlett Johansson is recording an album.
Sign The Apocalypse Might Not Be So Close: Rick Rubin is finally getting his well-overdue props. Rick, despite the fact you helped birth the Dixie Chicks' most recently-released Grammy fest, I'll forgive you. Seriously, bro...aside from the facial appearance, you're the tits. Keep up the good work. And shave, babe.