REPORT
Notes on tonight's MTV Video Music Awards at the Metropolitan Opera House, in something like real time:

Puff Daddy is a clown. This loser is the most classless poser I have ever seen. He reminds me of Flavor Flav minus, y'know, a sense of class or humor or anything other than his ability to show us his big red nose. He's like some character out of an old In Living Color episode. Shiz, even Rick James grew up, G. The only representin he be doin is for his 58 friends all packt into his old man's VW Beetle. Say it with me now. Puff Puff Daddy, clown clown clown.

Bono looked dazed in his pre-show interview. Before making a crack about the Irish minimalist school of video filmmaking that got them their lifetime achievement award, he looked like he had been woken up just before they turned the cameras on them. Edge did all the talking. Animated and articulate, he'd have made a pretty good front man if, well, if his band ever needed one.

In a 45 second interview, Jay-Z said the phrase you know what I'm sayin 37 times. No, Mr. Z, we don't know what you're saying. Say it.

Kid Rock and Pamela Anderson talking about the sex they were constantly having (and from which they were interrupted to come to the show) turned my stomach.

And I'm glad for AJ McLean getting his life back together, but I'm glad the BSB had to leave. 3 mentions of "64 days sober" in ten minutes was enough, especially since we were kicking off a party.

Outkast had the right idea. They dressed up in neon lederhosen and furry pants and were all happy-goofy, like some hot chick had smiled at them. Which is probably the level of compliment being a part of this show is equal to.

The "Videos work here" ads for MTV are a bit funny, and possibly a bit too true.

Jennifer Lopez entered the show looking like 1973-era Linda Ronstadt. Unfortunately, she changed into some Ricardo Montalban-meets-Julie the Cruise Director for her song. And poor Jah Rule had to sing, and really, he can't.

The miking of the audience wasn't all that good. It made it hard to gauge who was actually popular and who wasn't. Clearly the point of that.

The "nature" theme for the award bumpers was excellent. Jumping gazelles, quick-tongued chameleons, turtles fucking, clams sticking their little tonguelike feet out to taste the sand, it was an imaginative take, and especially with the all too real trend toward artificiality this year, it was kind of jarring.

Before the show, Fatboy Slim's Christopher Walken dance video won all the technical awards, and when it won Best Direction, Walken got the biggest cheer of the night to that point.

Janet Jackson's speech for Aaliyah sounded off the cuff, but really heartfelt. It was probably scripted, but still.

I think it was a masterful stroke to put the podium and the microphone so low. Despite the fact that the microphones are plenty strong enough to talk into standing up, it was sweet to watch all these self-important gottabestar-types bending over, afraid that one of their desperate heavenly incantations might not get heard, like it might just mean they would not arise into the sky upon their demise. Trust me, Beyonce: When you go, they're gonna be sticking wings to your back right away. With a staple gun. So relax, gurl.

You know it's a bad year for musicians when Linkin Park comes on and they sound like a breath of fresh air. Alicia Keys, going on not much later, brought the house down, as much because she was actually proficient at playing her instrument as that she was hot and had great pipes.

Moby accepted his award wearing a Minor Threat t-shirt, and his humility would have won me over if I didn't like him already. Go, big boy! Stubbleheads rule ok!

Did I mention that Jay Z is a fucking tool? He used the Nike B-Ball ad instead of putting together his own floor show. I get the feeling that's the most original thing he had in mind. Tool.

I thought that it was classy that Moby and Eve dragged Gwen Stefani back onstage to thank her for them winning both the Best Male and Best Female award. It's nice to win those two awards when you don't even have a video of your own out. Gwen was appropriately gracious. I'd like to get to know these people someday. Maybe I shall start stalking them. (Eve. rrrarrr.)

Michael Jackson came on for N Sync and looked eight kinds of tired, dude. To use the sports metaphor, he's lost a few miles off his fastball, and even with the loving lightweights of 'N Sync around him, it was not the pure love-fest you'd expect. 20 seconds of moonwalk-on-the-spot and a couple of spins, and the old man was dizzy and out of breath. But oy, the set design was fantastic! Kids falling in and out of comic book tableaus and little putt-putt cars and teddy bears... Technically, it was a marvel. Shame about Michael.

Easily, the funniest thing of the night was Ben Stiller throwing down at Puffy. He was fearless, and it worked out. Puffy is a clown. Oh, I said that. Well, Ben called him on it, and everyone got the joke. Especially Jennifer Lopez, who they kept cutting to in the audience, laughing her (not very big, or was it just me) ass off.

U2 introducing the Ramones and giving the tribute to Joey Ramone that everyone else was giving Aaliyah was right and fair and good, and the fact that they dissed their own back video catalog on the night they were getting a lifetime achievement award for it was a lovely, and I'm guessing intentional, funky coincidence.

On the other hand. Macy Gray wearing the date of her album release on her dress was the most chickenshit thing I think I saw all night. Who told her that whoring her suddenly-styleless ass out like that was a good idea?

Anyway, U2 playing Beautiful Day after a power glitch postponed their set (Jamie Foxx handled the unforeseen stuff poorly - please, can someone find and pay Chris Rock or Jon Stewart or whoever to do it next year, please? Please?) was the last thing I remember as being good, even though they set the whole thing up so that Britney Spears could close the show out with some major production. Her snakes and seven veils act was underwhelming, and left the pundits as puzzled as I was about what to make of all this. Still. Social event of the season. I laughed, I cried, I winced. Three and a half stars. I might get that Alicia Keys album after all.