I'm stunned to see so many artists' names in Grammy headlines this morning. Mary J. Blige? Red Hot Chili Peppers? Sure, they won in the genre categories that nobody could have imagined them losing ("And the Grammy goes to ... the Raconteurs!" Yeah right). But, if the 49th Annual Grammys were a tennis tournament, nobody besides the Dixies did much more than occasionally hold serve.

No ma'am, last night was an old-fashioned butt-whooping -- or, rather, chick-slapping: The Dixie Chicks won Album of the Year, Song of the Year and Record of the Year -- three of the Big Four categories. And, judging by past veteran Grammy winners, if Natalie Maines hadn't been so darn public with her anti-Bush statements, the Chicks could have probably taken home the fourth: Best New Artist.

It's far better theater when the Grammys don't spread the love. In 2003, when viewers kept expecting to hear the words "Bruce Springsteen" and presenters kept on reading "Norah Jones," those were career-defining moments. Because, love them or loathe them, the Grammys are the only music award show where we actually care who wins. Real quick: Who won last year's Video of the Year at the VMAs?

That Maines, the Dixies' lead vocalist (and lead loudmouth), didn't even feign graciousness in her many acceptance speeches only turned up the thrill factor. (Borrowing the "ha ha" laugh from 'The Simpsons' bully Nelson was particularly inspired.)

Even though the Grammys reflect a year gone by, they managed to be timely last night. As the election season kicks off, the lefty music biz insiders got to land the first punch at the outgoing administration by showering one of its sworn enemies with medals. And inviting Al Gore and Joan Baez to the party was a none-too-subtle touch. Ha ha, indeed.

Other random Grammy musings:

• Poor James Blunt. Not only was the newly bearded Brit a five-time loser, but he had to get up there and sing a song that voters had already shown him they were sick of.
• Who thought we'd hear more from Dan Wilson than Blunt? And you thought the guy who gave us 'Closing Time' had been resting on his laurels.
• Big night for God. Thanked almost as much as Rick Rubin.
• Watching the three arm-locked girls compete to sing with Justin was like watching those three subway cars race at Yankee Stadium (or trolley cars for you SF Giants fans). Sure, I'll shout "Green!" like the next guy, but does anybody really sweat the outcome?
• Stevie Wonder won and U2 lost ... twice. If you're scoring at home (and who isn't?), that means "Stevie Wonderful" (as Tony Bennett calls him) has tied the Irish rockers with 22 Grammys, most among recording artists. Look for U2 to rush out an anthemic, high-minded single right before next year's deadline.
• Nope, even when I agree with Don Henley, I can't applaud. Dude makes Sting seem humble.
• Speaking of Sting, nice one on "Roxanne." Even though he chose to go down an octave for the "put on the red light" part, the Police still beat the crap out of Scrantonicity's version on Thursday night.
• Tom Petty once said that so much of what is produced in Nashville is really just (crappy) rock music. And, with that ringing in my brain, the dude with spiky hair from Rascal Flatts began singing, 'On a dark desert highway ..."
• Justin, good-looking guy ... and way better from a little bit farther back.
• The Grammys are going to be 50 next year. They'll be more than twice as old as Carrie Underwood, and just 15 years younger than Andy Summers.