Kelly Osbourne praised Quvenzhané Wallis on TV, gushing: “She’s so cute. I can’t pronounce her name. I’ll just call her ‘Q.’ ” Bang, came a — to use the Q-word — quick smack. The NAACP angrily told Kelly: Better stop marginalizing Miss Wallis. Better learn how to pronounce her name. Better not do that again.

Hey, the kid’s only 9. Already up for Best Actress. Not exactly like anybody’s stunting Quvenzhané’s career. Better they should calm down.

EVERYBODY’s so supersensitive. “Mike and Molly’s” Melissa McCarthy is a favorite. Her large size has helped her large fame. But, in advance of arrival on the Academy Awards red carpet, handlers sent word: “Do not mention she’s fat. Do nottt!” I mean, whaaa? Reporters should introduce her as Calista Flockhart?

TOM Allon. Age 50. Patriotic in red tie, white shirt, blue suit. Democrat turned liberal Republican. President of Manhattan Media, which includes Avenue magazine. And approximately the 305th contender for Bloomberg’s job. So . . . why . . . ?

“Our second-rate education system’s gone downhill for 40 years. Seventy-five percent of students leave unprepared. One in five graduate college. We’re not adequately training teachers. We train doctors better. If you don’t trust a kid with bad knees to an unfit doctor, why to an unfit teacher? Fifty percent of teachers leave the system in five years.

“My three children have gone to private and public school. I know there’s better methods to teach kids.”

OK, so who is this guy?

“Born on the Upper West Side. My family are Holocaust survivors. In Washington Heights, my father was a medical supplier, my mother a dressmaker whose boutique was robbed twice. I had a 96 average, then taught English at Stuyvesant.

“In Cornell, majoring in history, I edited our college newspaper, delivered it on a moped, and sold ads. I took law a year, but it’s not for me. Learned journalism in Columbia, became editor of the West Side Spirit, and I’m the guy [who] picked Ed Koch to write movie reviews.

“I said, ‘You have spare time.’ He asked, ‘How much you pay?’. . . ‘I’ll give you $50 a week.’ . . . ‘I wouldn’t cross the street for $50 a week. Call me when you have money.’ Eventually I bought [the weekly] Our Town. Our little group of community papers chipped in, and he got $250 a week.

“I have great ideas to help the city fiscally. Sell naming rights to our 1,000 bus stops. Rent out our 468 subway stations at $10,000 a month. For money to redo the crumbling schools, sell their air rights.

“I’ll fight to bring back vocational schools. Training people for trade. Plumbers, mechanics, contractors. Not every kid needs four years college . . . Meanwhile, as I raise $6 million for the primary, and doing politics at night, I’m still keeping my day job.”

SECOND AVENUE DELI — which, you know, is now on First Avenue — closes for Passover — but so successful that they’re opening a West Side branch in 2016 . . . Minutes after news shows slammed Joan Rivers’ Holocaust joke, she hit Le Cirque. Downing salmon plus getting takeout chicken for her dogs . . . Clive Davis’ autobio “The Soundtrack of My Life” is No. 2 best seller on next week’s hardcover nonfiction list.

TINY memories. Bonnie Franklin. A “Night of 100 Stars” benefit. Backstage at Radio City. Standing between Placido Domingo and Carol Channing, she warned her hairdresser: “Look, it’s standing up too much. You’re Don King-ing me.”

And Van Cliburn. I was close to Imelda Marcos in her first lady of the Philippines heyday. I brought the Miss Universe Pageant to Manila in those years when her partygoing escort was Van Cliburn. Unable to sleep, she’d stay up all night dancing and singing until 6 a.m. He played piano for her. His favorite tune for Imelda? “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”

OVAL Office press conference. Obama stating he can never fire Joe Biden. Why? “Because I forget what he does.”

HORSE MEAT? On tables here? Please. A while back I hit Kazakhstan, a ruble away from deepest Siberia. Since my fame doesn’t seep beyond Newark, I’m scarcely a big deal there. Nonetheless, for whatever reason, a major feed was put on in my honor. It was lunch.

Huge food. Large table. Several courses. Many dishes. The centerpiece? Main dish? A very long platter of meat surrounded by broad noodles. The meat was gray in color. I asked what it was. They said: “Horse.” I turned the same shade of gray.

Interpreters specifically told me: “This is special. In your honor. Not done for everyone.” Yeah, thanks. I ate only the noodles. Dining on Seabiscuit’s relative, I don’t think so.

But that was out there near Russia. I didn’t expect to ever see it in downtown USA.

ANCIENT wooden sign at Gabriel’s West 26th barbershop: “Shave and haircut, 25 cents.” Today’s bargain price for seniors is $28.

Only in New York, kids, only in New York.