The Oscar nominations rolled on out this week, but with a difference: In a rather explicit admission that it does not trust its own judgment, the Academy has upped the number of Best Picture nominees from the usual five to ten. Let’s begin there.

Well, not exactly. Ben Smith blogs my tweet about dining two tables away from the newest Justice at the modest but nice ($20 entrees), Brooklyn restaurant Po last night. Which is not a shocker, as Sotomayor once lived in the surrounding Carroll Gardens neighborhood.

Sarah Palin’s autobiography Going Rogue doesn’t have an index. Why? Well, I’m not exactly sure. But it sure makes finding gems in the text--such as the defense of that $150,000 clothing bill, the petty attacks on Katie Couric, and Palin-isms like “maverick” and “dang!”—a pretty tough slog. So, here’s an index. A really, really long and thorough one. Want to know where Palin celebrated one of her baby showers with her gal pals? It’s in here. Want to know how she feels about the ACLU, or Ashley Judd, or Steve Schmidt?

When word broke last week that the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences was planning to have multiple hosts for the Oscars this year and that they'd be chosen in part on the basis of having "different strengths and a different generational appeal," it was easy to envision televisual disaster. This the just the kind of patronizing, ill-conceived demographic slicing that, not so long ago, might have resulted in a Sinbad nod and these days could spark worries of Miley Cyrus.