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Welcome once again to our Oscars liveblog, where for roughly the next four hours and seventeen minutes (adjust your Oscar pool tie-breaker answer accordingly), we'll be huddled over our laptop, offering alcohol-delayed commentary on the very things you're watching on your TV at home. And because we're not afraid of the kind of cutting-edge innovations that will be on display in the Academy Awards telecast, this year we'll be blogging from inside a Lucite tank that will slowly fill with refreshing, liver-perforating pink André champagne; should the show exceed four hours, we'll perish by drowning unless our quick-thinking Sober Intern can fish us out before our lungs have completely filled with affordable sparkling wine. Should we not survive, embeddable YouTube video of our grisly demise will be made immediately available.

Here we go! In observance of sacred liveblogging tradition, new entries will appear at the top. Refresh the page every ten seconds or so for our latest nonsense:

9:15: And the big one, courtesy of Bald Jack and Diane Keaton: The Departed, Best Picture. Graham King's emotional acceptance speech is marred when Paramount emperor and jilted, uncredited producer Brad Grey unexpectedly emerges from the head of the giant Oscar at center stage, sneaks up on King as he recites the litany of names he needs to thank, then snatches Oscar from his stunned colleague. We knew Grey would get his moment of glory, whatever it took.

See you back here tomorrow for the post-Oscar orgy. We'll be passed out within ten minutes.

9:08: But then again... Scorsese wins Best Director! We can feel joy again! (A lock, but still. Defamer HQ just exploded in relief. No one wanted to see those eyebrows droop once again in defeat.)

And perhaps most satisfying of all, Endeavor's Ari Emanuel is namechecked. His suffering was just as real.

9:02: Forest Whitaker's heartfelt speech for his inevitable Best Actor win might have moved us if the previous fifteen hours of the ceremony hadn't already sucked out what was left of our awards-weary soul. We're too dead inside for sentiment now.

8:53: A tousled Phillip Seymour Hoffman, apparently fresh off a five-day bender, presents the Best Actress award. And, of course: Helen Mirren. She's not displaying nearly the level of cleavage that first entranced us at the Golden Globes. And where's the Kodak-crumbling orgasm she promised us? Too much talk about the real-life inspiration for her performance, and not enough orgiastic moaning while in the throes of Oscar-winning ecstasy. Disappointing.

Still, we want her. Bad.

8:50: Ellen DeGeneres TuxedoWatch (we know we've been slacking here, but our ability to discern color and style has been severely hampered by champagne punch): She's going with a conservative blue for the obligatory joke about how overlong the show has been. Nice choice.

8:47: Jack Warden, Jack Palance, and Robert Altman all make the cut on the much-anticipated In Memoriam montage; sadly, Anna Nicole Smith, currently the Most Famous Dead Person in Hollywood, was omitted, probably over a technicality involving the dispute over her body.

8:44: Jodie Foster is crushing both Melissa Etheridge and Ellen DeGeneres in the Most Flattering Lesbian Hairdo race.

8:42: By our unofficial count, we just got the twentieth cut to Jack Nicholson's (still unexplained) bald head. But that editing win for The Departed seems to indicate that Scorsese's pain might finally be over.

8:39: Ever wonder why the telecast runs over four hours? Consider the seeming twenty minutes of your life you just lost to watching Michael Mann's completely insane "America! The Montage!"

8:35: Will Smith is obviously coloring his head stubble gray for added gravitas.

8:28: God may love Jennifer Hudson, but he really seems to hate Dreamgirls. (Or maybe just DreamWorks and Paramount?) THREE of their songs just lost to one Melissa Etheridge wrote in five minutes—four minutes of which she spent trying to unlock the "truth/youth" rhyme puzzle she discussed earlier in the show.

8:26: Beyonce loses, as Hudson finishes with the number with her breasts totally intact. Better luck next time, Yonce.

8:22: Beyonce is being completely upstaged by the Jennifer Hudson's scene-stealing rack. But Beyonce isn't going down with a fight—she's trying to sing the jiggling, attention-grabbing bosoms right off Hudson's chest and out of the Kodak Theatre.

8:14: Best Original Screenplay Fun Fact: Little Miss Sunshine's Michael Arnt used to be Matthew Broderick's assistant! Hey, everyone out there fetching dry cleaning: You really can make all of your Hollywood dreams come true!

8:04: The announcer just called Hugh Jackman the "Volver-rine." Backstage, one of the writers is shitting himself with glee, having won a bet (and with a potential two hours left in the broadcast!) about who would get the worst joke on the air.

And one of these days, Penelope Cruz is finally going to get this English stuff down. No hurry.

7:55: Lifetime Achievement Award = luxurious bathroom break. We're really going to take our time in there.

7:49: ....and here comes Al Gore again for An Inconvenient Truth. Director Davis Guggenheim is so overcome with joy he might just make out with the former Vice President a little. Still no announcement of his presidential candidacy, which we suppose he's holding for the moment before the Best Picture, when viewership is highest and his "Fuck Obama!" message will really pop.

7:45: Jerry Seinfeld: "What's up with the Oscars? We all get dressed up and then some people don't win! Who are these people?" He does redeem himself by noting all the documentary feature nominees are "incredibly depressing." Well, maybe not Jesus Camp, which apparently is all about aborable little kids dancing for The Messiah!

7:35: God gives Jennifer Hudson the Best Supporting Actress award! We knew He loved J-Hud the most! Of course, this also means that He's not really that into Eddie Murphy, whom He cruelly punished earlier in the telecast.

7:30: Oscar Pool FuckageWatch II: Pan's Labryinth finally drops one to The Lives of Others. Maybe it really wasn't that big an upset, but the way Pan's has been going, it felt like it was somehow going to sneak in and win Best Picture.

7:13: Gwyneth Paltrow's visible nipple (you all saw it, right?) overshadows Pan's Labyrinth's third win of the night (this time, for cinematography). That areola's such a fucking attention whore.

Nastiest comment of the night at Defamer HQ: Sherry Lansing's resemblance to the bird that played the Flintstones' records with its beak. Ouch.

7:04: The Tom Cruise moment we've all been waiting for! He's introducing former Paramount head Sherry Lansing's humanitarian award. It seemed that Cruise was going to be content to quietly present Lansing with the award, but he ulitmately delivers the kind of spectacle we've come to expect: After calling Lansing onto the stage, a 50-foot couch is lowered from the rafters, prompting Cruise to light himself on fire, hop upon the gigantic sofa, and declare his undying love for Lansing's unparalleled charitable endeavors.

Yup, we went for the couch-jumping joke. We blame. André

7:02: The nominated costumes segment scores off the Unintentional Comedy charts, with "Eddie Murphy" making the absolute most of his five seconds of screen time. (We suspect it was actually Jamie Foxx playing the Murphy role.)

6:53: The Departed wins Adapted Screenplay, with William Monahan admitting a debilitating Valium addiction. We suppose this means we're not going to get Sacha Baron Cohen discussing his near death experience within the rancid folds of Ken Davitian's anus. Oh well. We'll always have the Globes.

6:50: The Children of Men adapted screenplay clip reminds us just how badly Universal fucked over that amazing movie.

6:45: Who let Affleck in? Obviously he snuck his way past a confused security guard by claiming the last five years of Matt Damon's career as his own.

Also: Penguins still totally hot as Happy Feet wins Best Animated Feature.

6:40: More Gore, via Defamer's Political Correspondent: "Gore thanked H'wood but not scientists—'I want to thank the Los Angeles community, which is one of the most polluted cities in the hemisphere, and not the environmental community.'" Hey, scientists aren't going to be the ones sucking up to him at Morton's in a few hours.

6:35: Despite Leo DiCaprio's prompting, Al Gore does not announce his candidacy for the presidential race, explaining, "I'm fucking terrifed of David Geffen calling me a fatty in the New York Times tomorrow."

6:23: Oscar Poll FuckageWatch: Upset! Alan Arkin's cracked out grandpa beats Eddie Murphy for Supporting Actor! The Curse of the Fat Suit is in effect. Five DreamWorks publicists bite down on the cynanide capsules they'd had available for just such a disappointment. J-Hud is feeling a little less sure of herself, sweating all over the tinfoil shrug she was obviously talked into wearing by an insane stylist.

6:20: The best idea we've heard tonight, courtesy of a friend at the Official Defamer Viewing Party: There should be a halftime at the Oscars. Sure, the ceremony would probably go over 5 hours, but at least we'd get a few minutes to relax and enjoy fifteen or so minutes of Prince stroking his demon cock.

6:14: The tribute to sound editors was sorely lacking a moment about how the incredibly lifelike flatulence from Blazing Saddles was created. We really wanted to see those 40 tuxedoed artists simultaneously putting their hands in the armpits and letting it rip.

6:05: A quick programming note: If you text FOLLOW DEFAMER to 40404, you'll get instant Oscar updates from this liveblog to your mobile phone from Twitter.com. Sound like an unbelivable amount of fun? It is! You can leave the laptop behind and stay connected even while using the bathroom!

6:00: Somewhere, Dakota Fanning plots the violent deaths of child actor competition Abigail Breslin and Will Smith's Son (name unavailable at posting time); Fanning's agent calms her irate client by reminding her that neither underage hack has done a rape movie yet.

5:53: During Will Ferrell and Jack Black sing "The Ballad of the Tragically Un-nominated," Peter O'Toole is unfazed by Black's threat to beat the old man to death with his Nickelodeon award. He's already been hardened by Ellen's eariler attack. Also, Ferrell, Black, and surprise crooner John C. Reilly promise to triple-team Helen Mirren. We fear this is only the first of many jokes relating to Mirren's incredible do-ableness.

In other news, Pan's Labyrinth wins again (make-up)! They're on their way to a sweep.



5:46: Dreamgirls loses its first Oscar of the night. Pan's Labyrinth wins Art Direction, but the victory seems somewhat secondary to DreamWorks' disappointment.

5:44: Host realizes that tambourine-and-gospel-choir act might have fallen a little flat: "I wouldn't want to follow that!" Luckily, first presenter Nicole Kidman has had every facial muscle paralyzed, making her unable to wince at the failed bit.

5:41 pm: Ellen kneecaps septuagenarian Best Actor nominee Peter O'Toole! He survives the attack, barely, once his nurse/date applies defribrillator paddles to the front of his tuxedo, shocking him right back into the opening monologue.. Also, this just in: Leonardo DiCaprio is totally cute!

5:40 pm: Obviously brainwashed by producer Laura Ziskin, DeGeneres boldly comes out against boring speeches. They don't want them!

5:37 pm: Ellen DeGeneres TuxedoWatch: She goes with the burgundy velvet! We thought she'd do with something a little more restrained to start, but she's already blowing our minds with her bold fashion choices. Next up: a lavender number incorporating chaps and a lasso.

5:32 pm: Errol Morris apparently gives every single Oscar nominee two and a half seconds of screen time in his groundbreaking reinterpretation of those Mac ads we all love so much. The best: Peter Morgan saying it's not OK to talk about wanting to fuck The Queen. (The real one, not Helen Mirren. It's perfectly acceptable to want to nail her.)