This morning, we mused about which Oscar attendee might become the victim of an act of promotional terrorism in which Sacha Baron Cohen, decked out in full Dictator regalia, whips off a pair of breakaway pants and rubs his autocratic posterior into the face of an unsuspecting victim, as the thought seems to be keeping Academy producers awake at night. (Meryl Streep, don’t let your guard down!) But then we looked out the window of Grantland HQ to discover (well, notice, it’s not like this kind of slow-revealing thing can sneak up on you) the three hundred-foot portraits being painted on the side of downtown L.A.’s Hotel Figueroa. So, yeah: Maybe we’d better worry about our own faces. His ass is coming for us.