I have two things to say, and you probably won't like either of them. The first will make you question my sexuality, while the second will undermine my credibility. Oh well, I'm fond of talking before thinking: There's no reason I shouldn't extend this courtesy to my literary voice. Here goes.

I love the Oscars. Like, a lot. Screw the Superbowl; the Oscars have always been my big show, and any film fanatic should feel the same. I follow the "playoffs" (a.k.a. the Golden Globes, Screen Actors Guild awards, and other supposed indicators of Oscar contenders), the marketing campaigns each studio mounts behind its films, and, yeah, I even like the fashion. My homeboy Cojo on "Entertainment Tonight" annually preps me on the hottest designer trends, and I especially enjoy his catty comments on fashion fatalities.

I hardly saw any of the films nominated this year. Well, there it is. I didn't soar with "The Aviator," failed to invest in "Million Dollar Baby," never checked into "Hotel Rwanda" and couldn't find "Neverland." Jamie Foxx sure stole the show with "Ray," though.

Perhaps I should be ashamed of myself, an editor of the Arts section who began reviewing anything and everything released on celluloid. Perhaps I should resign and bequeath my position to someone who enjoyed "Closer" for reasons other than Natalie Portman's bare boobs. Perhaps not.

Host Chris Rock's most inspired bit during the evening ironically summarized the entire ceremony. Interviewing people at the Magic Johnson Theatre, Rock discovered that (surprise, surprise) almost nobody saw any of the films championed this year, but almost everyone saw "White Chicks," and it was the bomb, yo.

Though the segment poked fun at the tastes of black moviegoers with Rock's impeccable eye for racial differences, I doubt the results would have differed had he visited a suburban multiplex populated by NASCAR dads and their ilk.

Few of us, regardless of ethnic background, saw any of the damn movies nominated this year: We were too busy catching flicks such as "Spider-Man 2," "The Passion of the Christ" and "Fahrenheit 9/11."

There's no shame in this, either. Maybe I'm just a hapless comic geek, but no other love story this year captivated me quite like Peter Parker and Mary Jane. If "Titanic" could dominate through its romance, then surely "Spider-Man 2," with a script written by a Pulitzer-Prize winner, deserved similar mention. At least a nomination would have sufficed, regardless of its long-shot odds.

Alas, after "Return of the King" hewed its way through 11 Oscars last year, the Academy cleansed its blockbuster-choked palate with some arthouse darlings. "The Passion," arguably last year's most controversial film, was shut out of the major awards and "Fahrenheit" wasn't even nominated.

"The Incredibles" appeared on the ballot, but was slammed harder than Sly Stallone's chin meeting Dolph Lundgren's knuckles. Relegated to the kiddie table, Brad Bird's masterpiece competed against the bloated "Shark Tale" and uneven "Shrek 2."

Once upon a time, "Beauty and the Beast" made history by being the first animated film nominated for Best Picture. "The Incredibles" is a hundred times better than that classic, managing to capture childlike awe and adult anxiety in the same film.

For my money, "The Incredibles" was the best film I saw last year, entering that rare pantheon of films I look forward to sharing with my future children. Like great literature, "The Incredibles" is layered with meaning, revealing more and more to its viewer after certain life experiences.

Kids will love the bright colors, smartass humor and sweet action sequences-hell, so will adults. At the same time, Bird's film explores alienation, depression and a search for self-worth with all the gut-wrenching pathos of "American Beauty," minus a few f-words.

Had this film been a live-action, family drama not involving costumed crusaders, it would have been an Oscar juggernaut. But the Academy hates genre films, and with crap like "Shark Tale" polluting the box office, CGI-animated films have a long road to travel before they reach legitimacy.

All in all, this year's Best Picture nods were middling at best. Shame on the Academy for not recognizing the truly incredible.