Next week in review

Work has already begun on the 2014 Oscars, but Seth MacFarlane won't be there. He has a hot date. Kevin Winter/Getty Images

Daytona up. Danica up. Hollywood up.

The Onion is set adrift in an open boat.

Work begins on the 2014 Academy Awards. R.A. Dickey tweets. At least 224 more things are supposed to happen Saturday. Including Toffees. Lena Dunham rings your doorbell and runs away.

On a private jet 40,000 feet above the Sargasso Sea, Catherine Zeta-Jones sings "All That Jazz" into a hairbrush. Michael Douglas looks to the horizon and turns up his headphones. In a darkened bathroom somewhere in New Jersey, Jim Cramer looks into the mirror and tells himself, "Argo corn starch is a BUY."

Manti Te'o is too slow to outrun his own story, and a screenplay based on the NFL combine is probably stuck in turnaround.For two days in the fall of 2009, the working title was "Shuttle Run to Daylight."

Every radar gun from Port St. Lucie to Sun City will be recalibrated for maximum optimism. Dwight and Kobe enter counseling.

By 2025 the Pay-Per-View Daytona 500 will be run in front of empty grandstands by 400-mile-an-hour robot drones named Sterling and Buckshot and Junior.

Indignation rises as expectations sag.

In the next seven days someone somewhere remembers that women are a majority population in the United States, and in one of an infinite number of possible futures, defense secretary Shirley Bassey uses a surplus Saturn V to launch Seth MacFarlane into the sun -- as President Quvenzhané Wallis signs the decree making "Oscar Sunday" a national holiday.

In the lost quatrains of Nostradamus, "Splash" and Lance and Uggs and Curtis Granderson's broken arm make the week "a sump of abyssal ruin," and the high school hockey/Ku Klux Klan thing never really catches on. The fortune cookie you don't open had the Powerball winner in it. Tom Brady just laughs and laughs and laughs.

The last "Argo-not" joke goes into the last alt-weekly.

Chinese hackers. Tehran's Potemkin jets. North Korean Rodman. Anne Hathaway. All move down to the second round on the secret board in Mel Kiper's mountaintop aerie.

Minnesota's Metrodome will close at last. The Vikings sign with the BBC to play their 2014 and 2015 seasons in the great hall of Downton Abbey. What will Matthew's season-ending head injury mean for Mary? And for the NFL? Will McLeod Bethel-Thompson become 8th Earl of Grantham? What of Mrs. Patmore's treacle? Check local listings.

For the price of two appetizers and an entrée, Gerard Depardieu relocates to Detroit. Both are then leased to the City of Windsor, as Vladimir Putin annexes the Red Wings. Elsewhere this week in Europe: skiing, bobsled, luge, skating, skeleton and austerity. Nordic skiing and ski jumping. Ski flying and Nordic combined. G and Super G. Bosnia bounces a check for the wine and fondue. Lindsey Vonn's swelling goes down.

On Friday, March 1, in consequence of the presidential/congressional sequester, nearly $85 billion will be cut automatically from the U. S. budget -- $43 billion of it from the Department of Defense alone. If Pentagon warnings are accurate, by the night of Tuesday, March 19, nearly everyone in America will be watching college basketball.

Three weeks from now: Artisanal small-batch pony from the micro stables of Brooklyn.

Too late, 50 percent of copy desk editors will realize they could have done more with that Bobby Valentine/Sacred Heart headline. Too late, the other 50 percent realize they should have done less. And Johnny Football -- who didn't think up the nickname Johnny Football, but answers to the name Johnny Football and rode the notion of Johnny Football to fame, and may be hoping to profit one day from the pristine reputation of Johnny Football T-shirts and songbooks and shower sandals branded with Johnny Football's Johnny Football trademark before another Johnny Football comes along -- has sued a non-Johnny Football, a Johnny-Football-Come-Lately, for infringing on the name Johnny Football.

"Johnny Baseball" opens out of town.

Twenty-seven first-person reports from the Vanity Fair Academy Award party remain unfinished. Eighteen more just cleared fact-checking. Four oral histories arrive Thursday. "Weinstein" is Graydon Carter's safe word.

While trying to sell some shoes, Dwyane Wade has reportedly coined himself a nickname so stupid that the next week will be spent trying to walk it back or deny it or forget it. Instead, a manufacturer of TVs and telephones will suggest a joking upgrade on Twitter. A worldwide e-petition circulates, and decades from now "Unicorn Apocalypse" will be carved into the marble base of Wade's bust in the Basketball Hall of Fame. He will be OK with this.

Up. Down. Everything new. Sublime. Ridiculous. Nothing changes.

The backlash to the Jennifer Lawrence backlash backlash laps against your door. We don't download your podcast. Everyone swoons for Clooney.