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9. As far as early-year Super Bowls of industries go, give me football (Super Bowl), followed by music (Grammys), auto racing (Daytona 500) and movies (Oscars).

8. Original score? Original song? Sound mixing? Sound editing? Enough already. There should be two Oscars awarded for sound: Soundtrack and sound effects. That's it.

7. The King's Speech looks very dull. Very English Patient-ish. But I'm going to trust the Academy and watch it. Bet I'm disappointed.

6. Wait, why is the color of Jennifer Hudson's face three shades darker than her chest and arms? And speaking of people in need of Garanimals for their epidermis, Christian Bale has black hair, a pink face ... and an orange beard.

Nine.

Oh boy.

She says, "It's about a guy who fantasizes about hot chicks."

I say (fingers crossed), "I'm in. Are we talking porn?"

So we go to Magnolia theater in West Village, have a drink and there, writhing around on a stage in skimpy, black undies, are Nicole Kidman, Fergie, Penelope Cruz and Kate Hudson.

One problem. One gigantic, deal-breaking problem ...

Sorry, guess again.

And, dare I say, checking out Cameron Diaz' box.

I love "Would you accept $5 million in exchange for once a day, every day, going into a completely darkened room for an hour during which at some point you would be administered a tangible level of pain short of permanent disability, dismemberment and death?" hypotheticals. So I saw The Box last night.

I'm a pretty black-or-white, in-or-out guy. But color me gray, I'm still not sure what I saw. Is it a hypothetical piece of genius, brilliantly framed by life-out-there wonderment and pastel '70s color? Or is it merely a cheesy sci-fi, culled from the cutting room floor of The Twilight Zone?

I'd have a better answer, if I didn't have some many damn questions.