Many have lauded your ability to persevere through our host’s lousy jokes and fake interest in the boring shit as you patiently await the actually relevant parts of the ceremony (you know, the actual awards). Many have also highlighted the raw passion of your angry outbursts whenever your top pick gets snubbed, bringing forth so much intensity that you've stirred up the emotions of even your most cynical critics.

In our modern political climate, we tend to judge the figures of our history through one defining action. For Abraham Lincoln, that would be the Emancipation Proclamation. For Thomas Jefferson, the Declaration of Independence. For John Wilkes Booth? His January 10, 1847 performance in the title role of Shakespeare’s “King Lear.”

That’s the title I am ashamed to declare I broke my pencil

In true chaos-Muppet fashion, Oscar the Grouch revealed only a small handful of clues about his new album, When I Get Home, to My Trash Can, ahead of its arrival yesterday in the dead of night. He opened the lid of his trash home on Sesame Street and yelled, “Listen up, fuckers, here’s my tunes.” Maria, a friendly neighbor and national household name, was woken by this cry and one of the first to hear the album. She said of the songs, “There is a lot of self-loathing at the core. But the electronic and hip-hop drum and bass help you overlook the sadness of his trash lifestyle and his cripplingly…