Whew! That was a close one, huh? That innocuous little writers’ strike ended just in the nick of time to allow for the self-congratulatory, self-indulgent, and self-aggrandizing stroke fest that is the Academy Awards show to go on as scheduled. Considering how uproariously hilarious, entertaining, and time-efficient the annual telecast is, I’d say that we, the TV-viewing boobheads, dodged a serious bullet, wouldn’t you?

Ah, well. At least the Academy seemed to get the voting right this year. Daniel Day-Lewis, having drunk the competition’s milkshakes throughout the entire awards season, finally consumed the one culminating with luscious whipped cream and cherries on top. Javier Bardem dared his Hollywood “friendos” to “call it,” and the efficacy was a golden naked boy in Bardem’s favor. And No County for Old Men was awarded the Promised Land, over which there never should’ve been a debate to begin with.

As for everything else, provided are a few of the highs and lows of the 80th annual Oscars program.

The Loony: If you happened to tune into the pre-show, red carpet coverage, then you were treated to the immense pleasure of perennial nut job, Gary Busey, perpetuating his irretrievable insanity by stalking maladroit commentator, Ryan Seacrest. There was Busey, hovering behind Dick Clark’s replacement like the weird “I like Santa Claus” kid from A Christmas Story. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s no longer PC to make fun of crazy people, but seriously, if you deny me my divine right to make fun of Gary Busey, then what other of life’s simple joys will you deprive me? Food? Breathing?

The Bad: 1. Brad Renfro (The Client, Ghost World, Deuces Wild) was curiously omitted from the regular “In Memoriam” segment of the show. Afterwards an Academy spokesperson offered a statement indicating that they just simply didn’t have enough time to include “everyone.” Are you kidding me? The show is already 17 billion hours long, and the tribute snippets are comprised of about five seconds each. You seriously can’t devote a millisecond to the actor whose death was no less tragic and whose life was no less valued than Hollywood’s beloved Heath Ledger? Shame on you.

2. As evidenced by the three tunes from Enchanted, 2007 was clearly not a good year for original songs. And the live performances of each only helped to underscore this fact. I mean, normally I can’t get enough Disney-flavored ditties in the soundtrack of my life, but these three were about as memorable as a cat crapping in a litter box. The first number featured poor Amy Adams doing her beguiling dandiest, but with sparse scenery and no costume to enhance the performance, it amounted to little more than an American Idol audition. I can hear Simon Cowell now: “You have as much princess flare as a polar bear. It’s a no.”

The Good: 1. Cate Blanchett did not win for portraying Bob Dylan. Now don’t get me wrong. I love Cate. I think she’s certifiably Aussie awesome. But John C. Reilly did a better Dylan impression as Dewey Cox in Walk Hard. I know, I know. The point is supposed to be that she’s a woman who pulled off the impossible task of playing a man, and an iconic man at that. Well look, I can pretend to be Katherine Hepburn all I want (and I do), but no one’s going to give me an award for it. Oh wait. They gave one to Cate for pretending to be Hepburn, didn’t they? OK, maybe I’m wrong about this one.

2. After Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova won the original song category for the lovely melody “Falling Slowly” from the film Once, the amalgamation of sheer delight and shock on Hansard’s face was refreshing in this sea of frequent expectancy. And his acceptance speech was utterly charming. “What are we doing here!?” he gushed. But before Irglova could get her two cents in, orchestra conductor, Bill Conti had already decided that was enough by stirring up that speech-clipping music just as she opened her mouth. A commercial break ensued, and afterward, host Jon Stewart halted the proceedings to bring Irglova back on stage to say a few words. Irglova said she wanted to dedicate her award to all artists who struggle—a concept with which many of these Hollywood heavyweights have lost touch. Never has the phrase, “We’re just happy to be here” been more appropriate or more clearly manifested than by this humble, song-writing duo. I was happy they could be there, too.

Todd Guill’s favorite show used to be “I’m With Busey.” When it was cancelled, a part of Todd as cancelled with it.