I realized a half-hour ago that I’m not feeling a lot of Warren Beatty mojo in my blood right now, certainly not enough to make me drive all the way to Goleta today in order to watch Beatty receive the Kirk Douglas Award at the Bacara Resort. Roger Durling and the Santa Barbara Film Festival are sponsoring the event, and as much as I love and support Roger and his many tributes, I can’t overcome the indifference I’ve been feeling about Beatty lately. Something snapped inside when he delayed a planned interview a couple of weeks ago. It wasn’t a huge deal, but on some level I suddenly felt as if I was Hubert Humphrey campaigning in the 1960 West Virginia primary in the rain. One result is that the idea of abandoning the column for six hours in order to drive up there in order to take part in a big smooch-ass ceremony suddenly feels like a journey too far. I’ve attended several Kirk Douglas Award ceremonies before, and I will hopefully attend many more in the future. All hail the Santa Barbara Film Festival, and I’ll always admire and respect Beatty for his long and brilliant career. Just not tonight.