After 30 Rock‘s Tina Fey used her Golden Globes acceptance speech to bash neg-head posters on TheEnvelope.com‘s message board, The Envelope‘s Tom O’Neil offered an apology. But why apologize for snarky mean things said by talk-backers? It’s part of the digital rough-and-tumble out there. Apologize for your own words and deeds and that’s all.

In a weird roundabout way the Golden Globes seem to have a bit more integrity this morning due to last night’s double-awarding of Kate Winslet — a Best Supporting Actress award for her performance in The Reader and a Best Actress trophy for her work in Revolutionary Road. But in another way the HFPA looks like the same old shop of whores.

We all believe that the Hollywood Foreign Press Association — the ultimate organization for obsequious celebrity suck-upping — “cooks” their nominations so as to ensure as many big names as possible showing up for the GG telecast. By this I believe that the ratings-mindful membership knows exactly who to nominate — no homelies, no dull indie-realmers (or as few as possible), and mostly big-name glamour types.

I don’t think the HFPA “cooks” the winners, but if I’d been tabulating this year’s votes I might well have gone to HFPA president Jorge Camara and said, “Jorge — why does Kate Winslet have to win two awards? Isn’t this a bit much? How does anyone figure her role in The Reader was supporting, for one thing? And what about the wonderful Viola Davis in Doubt? Or Penelope Cruz in Vicky Cristina Barcelona? Those were fierce blazing performances. It just seems excessive to give two awards to Winslet…no?”

But the fact that she got two tells us nobody went to Camara and said,”C’mon, man…let’s fix this.” It tells us that the left hand didn’t know what the right hand was doing. Nobody cooked anything. Anyone trying to fix the results would have thought like the rest of us — that Kate didn’t have to win twice and that Davis and Cruz really deserved their moment in the sun.

But it also tells us that the HFPA are huge bend-overs in that they totally bought the “Kate is finally due after all those years of being nominated and not winning an Oscar” argument. They wanted to be the good guys who turned things around — they knew it would be a big emotional moment. They clearly wanted to be the first to show her some awards love in a way that would result in headlines and goose the Academy members who haven’t yet voted to follow suit.

Who buys the idea of 32 year-old Ryan Reynolds pairing off with 44 year-old Sandra Bullock (who, no offense, is starting to look her age somewhat) in The Proposition (Touchstone, 6.12.09)?

On one level it seems almost exciting — at the very least intriguing — that societal standards are such that an older attractive actress can get away today with the same thing that older male actors have been getting away with for decades, i.e., romantic pairings with women 10, 20 and even 30 years younger. This is how it should be, I feel. The Demi Moore-Ashton Kutcher dynamic can and should work for thousands of couples out there. Why not?

On another level, however, I just don’t buy that a guy like Reynolds would go for a woman like Bullock in real life. Why? In a phrase, she’s just not looking as hot as Moore. She’s a very attractive woman with great bones, yes, but she’s looking fairly 40ish and she just seems too old for him. It sounds brutal to say this, but she’s not smokin’ in a way that would persuade a typical good-looking guy of 32 to say, “Yep, she’s my dream lady — a woman of character, smarts and strength whom I hope to have great sex with for the next 30 or 40 years, or at least for the next 25 or 30 years. And with whom I might want to have kids.” I just don’t buy it.

You have to do more than just sell tickets to be considered a serious heavy-hitting movie star. Every so often (i.e., every three or four years) you have to be in a really good film. And I mean a really good one — not a line-drive single or ground-rule double but a serious triple or a homer. By this standard, or even in strictly monetary terms, how can 32 year-old Ryan Reynolds be considered a star of any kind?

He’s a talented performer, obviously charming and good looking. He seems to be trying to do quality work in ambitious or unusual films. (Whatever happened to Fireflies in the Garden?). And most of his movies have been modestly profitable. And he seems (or it has seemed) as if he might eventually be Robert Redford. Maybe. But this doesn’t seem to be happening.

Where are the super-grosses, the big critical acclaim (why doesn’t he work with AAA-rated directors?), the sense of being part of some kind of special firmament in the universe? When is Reynolds going to catch a really good wave? It’s okay to flip-flop around in your 20s but you don’t hit it big in your early 30s people start to wonder.

You knew Redford was a star he came out in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at age 32, and then Downhill Racer and The Candidate two and three years later. (All parts that Reynolds could have played and done relatively well with.) You knew Dustin Hoffman had hit it big-time when he made The Graduate and Midnight Cowboy and Straw Dogs. You knew Al Pacino was destined for greatness when he turned up in The Godfather ; ditto Robert DeNiro when he starred in The Godfather, Part II. Nothing like this has happened with Reynolds. Nothing even close.

The reason, I believe, is that he’s basically a faux star — an agreeable lightweight lacking serious hunger and possibly lacking the necessary gravitas — trying to launch himself (or at least make it work in a limited way or…you know, hang on) in a degraded environment. He seems to be doing all he can to make it happen — engage, excite, arouse — but it’s just not coalescing.

Call it fortune-telling, instinct or luck, but Santa Barbara Film Festival director Roger Durling was obviously on target several weeks ago when he booked Golden Globe winners Mickey Rourke and Sally Hawkins, double-winner Kate Winslet and Slumdog Millionaire director Danny Boyle for tribute appearances. The fest runs from Thursday, 1.22 to Sunday, 2.1.

Retreating to the relative warmth of Santa Barbara after 9 days of Sundance — sub-freezing temps, snow, winds and all manner of dampness — is a very pleasant thing, I can tell you.

Naturally, or at least not unexpectedly, Slumdog Millionaire has won the Golden Globe for Best Dramatic Feature (or whatever the exact award wording is).

The Wrestler‘s Mickey Rourke has beaten Milk‘s Sean Penn with a Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Drama….big one! And a bit of a surprise. A beaming and moustachioed Darren Aronofsky sitting at the table. Rourke says the word “balls” twice. Goes on a bit, orchestra cuts him off, go for it.

Kate Winslet‘s double Golden Globe win — Best Actress for Revolutionary Road and Best Supporting Actress for The Reader — is probably a first. (Isn’t it?) The women who should have won for Best Supporting Actress,no offense, are Vicky Cristina Barcelona‘s Penelope Cruz or Doubt‘s Viola Davis.

Slumdog Milonaire‘s Danny Boyle has won for Best Director.

The Golden Globe for Best Picture, Comedy/Musical has been won by Woody Allen‘s Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

Colin Farrell has won for Best Actor, Comedy-Musical.

The Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor has gone to — who else? never any doubt — The Dark Knight‘s Heath Ledger. Standing ovation. Director Chris Nolan has come to the stage to accept. “An awful mixture of sadness and incredible pride…eternally missed, never forgotten.”

Slumdog Millionaire‘s A.R. Rahman has won the Golden Globe for Best Original Score. How much original music is in Slumdog? I’m just asking.

Best Miniseries or TV movie has gone to John Adams…fine, whatever. An excellent series as far as it went. I would have voted for Recount myself. John Adams star Paul Giamatti has won for Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Mini-Series or TV Movie. Loved him in this. Giamatti will always be more or less the shit. What am I supposed to say? Fine. Congrats.

Tom Wilkinson has won for Best Supporting Actor in a TV movie or miniseries for his Benjamin Franklin performance in HBO’s John Adams. Great. (I think we all knew Entourage‘s Jeremy Piven wouldn’t win for obvious reasons.) John Adams‘ Laura Linney for won for Best Actress in a Mini-Series or TV Movie.And Laura Dern has won in the female category for her performance as Kathryn Harris in HBO’s Recount.

Sally Hawkins‘ performance in Happy-Go-Lucky has won the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Comedy or Musical. Good for Sally even if Happy-Go-Lucky is by no stretch of anyone’s will or imagination a comedy, much less a musical.

30 Rock‘s Tina Fey has won the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Musical or Comedy on TV. She obviously reads a lot of stuff online.

Slumdog Millionaire‘s Simon Beaufoy has won the Golden Globe for Best Screenplay. Fine, whatever…what am I supposed to say? Alec Baldwin has won a Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Comedy or Musical on TV in Prime Time (stop me) for his work on 30 Rock. I’m going to have to condense all this for a single post. It’s just the Golden Globes.

The Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film has righteously gone to Ari Folman ‘s Waltz With Bashir, thus upping the likelihood that this amazing film will triumph also at the Oscars.

“We’re getting out of the early adopter phase and into the mass-market phase. It’s been two and half years since we first introduced a Blu-ray player. 2009 is the year we expect to continue significant growth of the format. This will be our big growth year.” — Blu-ray Disc Association president Andy Parsons.

In other words, cheaper players and…cheaper Bluray discs? Well?

I read somewhere last April that Gerald McMorrow‘s Franklyn was a possible Cannes ’08 entry, but nope. Then I was thought it might turn up at last September’s Toronto Film Festival…sorry. Then I thought it might appear at Sundance ’09….no-go. And now it’s opening in the UK next month with no U.S. release date in sight. Face it — there must be something wrong with it.

Which reminds me — where’s Beeban Kidron‘s Hippie Hippie Shake?

My parents made the mistake of moving into an assisted living facility called East Hill Woods a few years ago. My father was fond of calling this compound, located in dull-as-dishwater Southbury, Connecticut, “death row.” It’s a clean, quiet and very friendly concentration camp for the aged — tidy and comfortable and absolutely horrible for the human spirit. (Mine, anyway.) I would rather collapse and die on a New York street in the dead of winter than live in one of those hell-holes.

The Watermark at East Hill Woods

Things took a turn for the worse two or three years ago when EHW was acquired by a corporation and was re-named the Watermark at East Hill Woods. I knew that was trouble the minute I heard it. Sociopaths, I presumed, would now be determining how my parents lived out their last years.

Jim and Nancy Wells owned a roomy and beautiful Cape Cod-styled home in Wilton, Connecticut, for 30 years. For reasons of fear and uncertainty they decided to sell the home in ’94 (it would now be worth around $900 grand) and buy a nice condo in Heritage Village, which was very pleasant and spacious with low maintenance costs. Then my mother got scared all over again and convinced my dad to sell the Heritage Village condo and buy a unit in East Hill Woods — a $100 grand buy-in plus a monthly maintenance payment of close to $4 grand that went into a kind of “kitty” fund that would eventually help to cover their old-age medical costs.

That was the bottom-line comfort factor for my mother — that the East Hill Woods pricks would at least take care of her when she got really old and sickly.

Except my mother’s income went down sharply after my father’s death last June, and to reduce costs the Nurse Ratched administrators at the Watermark moved her into a one-room unit — the size of a very small laundry room plus a decent- sized bathroom. Now these same people want to move her into an even smaller room — a broom closet. The only thing more humiliating would be to put her into a large military-hospital room with several beds on either side, like the ones that tend to soldiers in movies like Patton and A Farewell to Arms, and zero privacy. What contemptible pricks.

Assisted living centers are about one thing principally — emptying out the saving accounts of old people and getting every last dime. East Hill Woods pocketed every last cent my parents had. Now that there’s almost nothing left and profits are down they’re taking away what’s left of my mother’s dignity in the name of trimming expenses. It’s times like these when I really wish I was in with guys like Tony Soprano and Silvio and Paulie Walnuts .

Last night my son Jett and two of his roommates were discussing wall-poster decorations in their just-moved-into flophouse — a seedy second-floor apartment with five bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom that’s only a couple of blocks from the Syracuse University campus. Jett wanted to put up a poster featuring James Dean and Bob Dylan, and one of the roommates — a very bright 20 year-old who’s (a) gay, (b) African-American and (c) a Republican — said no way. The point is that the guy had never heard of Dean or Dylan. I’m putting it as plainly as I can. The guy had never heard of either one. That’s dedication.

Earlier today The Envelope‘s Tom O’Neil posted a list of who will present what award at tonight’s Golden Globes ceremony. I know one thing — the presentation of the Cecil B. DeMille Award to Steven Spielberg is bathroom-break, make-a-meatloaf-sandwich, throw-the-wet-clothes-into-the-dryer time for me. All hail the director of Tintin!

What exactly has Spielberg done lately to deserve another brass kowtow besides having agreed to show up tonight? If Spielberg wasn’t a billionaire big-shot who’s hired a great number of people in this town and whose films have made gazillions over the past 33 years, would he be receiving this award tonight? I mean, it’s not like he made Schindler’s List last year or anything.

If a troubled heterosexual relationship drama had come out this year with scenes as good as this, it would absolutely be among the five Best Picture nominees with a damn good shot to win. The older Carnal Knowledge gets, the better it gets.