Was I the only one who thought Whitney’s bizarre, rambling off-script “tribute” to Clive Davis only presaged her slurred, lazy-eyed reading of Jennifer Hudson’s name as winner of best R&B album? After entering to howls of approval and looking great, she finally appeared drunk or stoned or… something. And who loved the irony that she presented the award to the woman who won an Oscar for “Dreamgirls” in the same role Whitney so craved to play a decade ago? That’s about the only reason I watch Grammys.
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