The Grouchy Editor

Debbie Downer

I was in the mood for something fun and uplifting, like an astronomy show with lots of cool outer-space pictures.  So I tuned in Into the Universe with Stephen Hawking.  At the conclusion of the episode, Hawking announced that there is no God, no happy afterlife.

I watched a second episode.  At the end, Hawking said that there likely are aliens in space, but we’d better hope that they stay far away from us because they are probably aggressive and nasty and might try to exterminate us and gobble up our resources.

I turned off the television.  I was reminded of some dialogue snarled by James Brolin in The Amityville Horror:  “Don’t you have any GOOD news?”

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Piers Morgan interviewed the cast of TNT’s Dallas reboot.  Piers pointed out that during the original show’s run, viewers all over the world wanted to move to Dallas and get rich.

I moved to Dallas in 1980, during the height of the first series’s popularity.  I did not get rich.  I did, however, make one late-night drunken visit to Southfork.  A buddy and I hopped the Southfork fence, tip-toed over grass toward the famous ranch house … and were chased off the premises by an angry, barking dog.  There is a lesson, somewhere, in that story.

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Gripe 1:  Gravel-voiced George Zimmer (above) touting his stores in Men’s Wearhouse commercials.  Zimmer, apparently too cheap to hire professional advertising talent, is hell-bent on driving me nuts with his raspy, grating plugs.  If I ever run into him on the street, I will yank his beard and throttle him.  I guarantee it.

Gripe 2:  Those indecipherable “crawls” on the bottom of TV screens.  Cable news has them.  Baseball games have them.  Networks seem to believe that everyone owns a high-def, big-screen television.  If you don’t, good luck reading the tiny print.

Gripe 3:  I tried to watch Game 2 of the NBA finals but was reminded why I no longer watch much basketball.  Pro basketball is the only major sport that intentionally and consistently ruins the suspense of a game’s final moments by allowing an onslaught of timeouts — and therefore commercials — at the end of the game.  Tie game with 5 seconds to go?  Plenty of time for a Toyota commercial.  Or two.

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Bonehead Quote of the Week:

“If it wasn’t for rap [music], white people wouldn’t have been so open to vote for somebody like Barack Obama.” — Rapper Ice-T, pictured above with his wife’s ass, on The Today Show

That’s news to me.  I voted for Obama, but if I thought he was planning to replace “Hail to the Chief” with some rap crap, I would have left the country.

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Big (Red-Faced) Apple

I used to like New York City.  But lately, thanks to blowhard Donald Trump and midget Mike Bloomberg, the Big Apple’s image is taking a whipping.  Apparently, New Yorkers can banish super-sized soft drinks but not super-sized egos.

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Rachel Maddow, still smarting over election results in Wisconsin, launched into an attack on big money in politics.  Fine by me.  But Maddow chose the wrong target for her wrath:  Big Tobacco and the millions of dollars it spent in California to defeat an anti-smoker tax known as Proposition 29.  “Everyone” was in favor of this tax, whined Maddow, because its merits were “incontestable.”

Contest this, Rachel.  Before you leap into your next harangue against smokers, please explain the merits of your weekly glorification of alcohol, specifically your Friday-night “happy hours” in which you extol the virtues of mixed drinks.

Meanwhile, in a world gone mad, I found myself rooting for Ann Coulter, who on Fox’s Red Eye went to bat for nicotine addicts everywhere.  “Smokers get a lot of work done,” Coulter asserted.  Yes.  Unlike, say, people who drink too much.

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I was watching cable news the other day and someone said, “You know what they say about Oklahoma?  If you don’t like the weather, just wait a day!”

Thirty years ago, shortly after I moved to Texas, a city councilman named Harris Hill welcomed me to the Lone Star State with this information:  “You know what they say about Texas?  If you don’t like the weather, just wait a day!”

Since I moved back to Minnesota, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard, either on TV or in real life, “You know what they say about Minnesota?  If you don’t like the weather, just wait a day!”

Do they say this even in California?

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Crystal Harris, Hugh Hefner’s 26-year-old “runaway bride,” has reunited with the old fart.  In case you’ve forgotten what Crystal looks like, here is a picture:

Former Hefner squeeze Kendra Wilkinson did not take the news lightly.  “I’m kind of ashamed.  I’m like, ‘Hef, what are you doing?’” Kendra sniffed, adding, “I don’t want him to be, like, caught up in this woman.”  In case you don’t recall what Kendra looks like, here is a picture:

And finally, in case you’ve forgotten what 86-year-old Hugh Hefner looks like …

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WHEN ZOMBIES ATTACK!

I suppose it’s in bad taste, but I want to chew on this Florida face-eating incident, just a bit more.  There are a lot of juicy nuggets and tasty tidbits related to this story, so please humor me if you find any of the following items hard to swallow:

Face-eater understatement No. 1, from Miami cop Javier Ortiz:  “It was very sad to see what happened to this gentleman that had his face eaten.”

Face-eater understatement No. 2, from Miami cop Armando Aguilar:  “In my opinion, he [victim Ronald Poppo] just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

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This Week’s Irritants

Standing ovations:  When you give standing ovations to all performers, no matter how mediocre or awful they might be, there is absolutely no motivation for the performers to excel.  Why should they, when they are treated like rock stars for average performances?  If it’s a so-so performance, go ahead and applaud — but keep your fat ass seated.

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Diet books:  I have never understood their popularity.  Throughout human history, there have been two ways to stay in shape, and two ways only:  portion control and exercise.  No fun at all, but the only way to stay slim.  And yet millions of people continue to waste money on these asinine books.

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CNN bimbo Alino Cho (the woman with a speck of dirt on her lip, above) did a report on the lurking dangers of … the office break room.  Seems there are lots of germs in break rooms.  Cho reported on a study paid for by Kimberly-Clark, which just happens to be a cleaning-products company.  Two thoughts come to mind:  1) Somehow, our ancestors conquered the New World, often subsisting on things like grubworms and wild berries.  With that perspective, the office break room fails to strike fear in my heart.  2) If Cho’s report frightens you, you’d better damn well vote for the Democrats, because Republicans are anti-regulation, including, presumably, health regulations.

No Kimberly-Clark products for these folks.

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CNN reported on something that might or might not be a story, maybe in August, but maybe not, possibly in Florida, but possibly not.  CNN asked this burning question:  What if a hurricane hits Florida during the Republican National Convention in August?

Oh, gosh.  What if lightning strikes me as I sit here typing on this ke–

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Bill Clinton caught hell for posing with porn stars (above).  But seriously … aren’t these women, presumably hard-working taxpayers, better citizens than the Wall Street fat cats who usually pose for pictures like this?

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I am in an especially foul mood today, because it was a sad week for disco.  Yes, you heard me:  I said IT WAS A SAD WEEK FOR DISCO.  We lost Donna Summer and a Bee Gee.  In my humble opinion, disco, that much-maligned musical marvel of the ’70s, was topped only by The Beatles in toe-tapping excellence.  Love to love you, baby.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

I’m going to make a point of watching American Masters.  Monday’s biography of Johnny Carson was tremendous — enlightening, and more than a bit sad. You can watch it for free at the PBS Web site.

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It must have been a slow news week for MSNBC’s Lawrence O’Donnell, who on Wednesday went after Fox News court jester Greg Gutfeld.  Gutfeld raised O’Donnell’s hackles by making fun of chef Mario Batali, who was living on a food-stamp budget to protest potential cuts to the program.

“Kinda makes you wonder what the ‘Greg Gutfeld Foundation’ has done lately,” O’Donnell raged.  “These people [Gutfeld and his guests on Red Eye] think Mario Batali deserves to be slapped around.”

Gutfeld is a quick-witted little twerp, but he’s often guilty of the same ploy he accuses Bill Maher of using:  blurting out some vile comment and then playing the “comedian card.”

However … unlike the independent Maher, Gutfeld also plays shameless kiss-ass for his masters at Fox, in particular Bill O’Reilly.

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I don’t think Entertainment Weekly much cares if it appeals to people like me.  The cover this week features Channing Tatum and his male stripper pals.  EW’s second major story this week is about a woman who designs costumes.  This is not manly material.

I would return to Newsweek or Time, but Time has a breast-feeding teenager and Newsweek has a homosexual politician on their covers.

Perhaps Playboy.  Does Playboy still publish a magazine?

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People magazine paid $800,000 for pictures of Jessica Simpson’s baby.  This is a picture of a baby:

Many newborns in the animal kingdom are cute, such as puppies and bunnies.  Human babies all look the same — ugly, wrinkled, and like Winston Churchill.  And yes, that includes your baby.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Maddow, Cooper Moving On

Count me among those surprised observers when, in the wake of revelations about Mitt Romney’s bullying of a gay student when both were in high school, Anderson Cooper announced plans to leave his lucrative anchor job at CNN to join Romney’s presidential campaign.  Cooper’s decision was nearly as eye-opening as the announcement earlier this week by Rachel Maddow that she will be leaving her post at MSNBC to join the fact-checking gang at PolitiFact.com.   Good luck to both of you!

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Smart people seem to get more respect in England than they do in this country.  In Britain, people turn on the telly to watch a tall, scrawny guy who is virginal, a genius in his profession, and a social misfit.  This is what he looks like:

In the U.S., we turn on the telly to watch a tall, scrawny guy who is virginal, a genius in his profession, and a social misfit.  This is what he looks like (on the left):

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This is a picture of Howard Stern.  He didn’t do anything particularly newsworthy this week, but next week Stern begins his stint as a judge on America’s Got Talent.  I have a feeling he will be gracing these pages from time to time, so get used to seeing his mug.

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I’ve been curious about how Fox News managed to talk liberal stalwart Bob Beckel into taking a seat at the table on The Five.  Beckel is forever outnumbered and out-sniped by his four conservative co-hosts.  But then I realized that someone at Fox was clever enough to ensure that Beckel is always seated right next to the “legs chair.”

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The governor of my state actually thanked Snidely Whiplash, aka Minnesota Vikings owner Zygi Wilf, for blackmailing Minnesota taxpayers into building a new stadium for his team.

Wilf rhymes with MILF.  But’s it’s not Zygi who’s getting screwed.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Could we please celebrate our national achievements just once?  When the retired space shuttle Enterprise was piggy-backed to Manhattan last week, there was breathless news coverage of the event.  Just as there was breathless news coverage of the final space-shuttle mission last July.

This week, we celebrated the placement of a steel beam atop One World Trade Center, officially making it New York’s tallest building.  We will celebrate, again, when the building is completed in a year or so.

I am thinking that this year I will celebrate my birthday not once, but twice:  once on the actual day of my birth, and once on the day that I was conceived.  Please alert the media.

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There is an upside to being an unpaid film critic, as opposed to the poor schmucks who review movies for professional media.  As an unpaid critic, I am under absolutely no obligation to see the latest entry in Hollywood’s endless string of mindless, childish teenybopper movies, in this case The Avengers.  Yes, it’s getting good reviews, and yes, it will strike gold at the box office.  I’ll even admit that it might be an entertaining flick.  But at this point, all I need to hear are the words “superhero” or “comic book” and I run screaming for the exit.

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My phone stopped working.  So I did what anyone would do, I contacted Fermin in India.

Fermin:  Hello sir.  Thank you for contacting Comcast Live Chat Support.  My name is Fermin.  Please give me one moment to review your information.

Grouch:  I think I need to just drop this voicemail feature on my computer, because 1)  I never use it, and 2)  I am now unable to use my telephone, and I am missing phone calls.  How on earth do I just get rid of it?

Fermin:  I will be more than glad to do the best I can to assist you today.  I hope your day is doing just fine.

Grouch:  Well, I can no longer use my telephone, and I suspect it’s because of this voicemail feature I have on my computer, which I never use.

Fermin:  I understand your concern, sir.

Fermin:  To make sure that I’m working with the correct phone, kindly verify the affected Comcast phone number and also your best contact number so we can call you if necessary.

Grouch:  You can’t call me.  My phone does not seem to be working.

Fermin:  I understand your concern.

Fermin:  Please in chat.

Fermin:  Please stat in chat.

Fermin:  Thank you so much.

Grouch:  I just want my phone to work again.

Fermin:  No problem.  Kindly connect the base unit of your phone directly to the modem at tel line 1 and 2 ports to verify which port is working.

Grouch:  The telephone is in another room, it’s not near the computer.

Fermin:  At this point, I humbly ask your patience and cooperation to follow my instructions so that we can resolve this phone issue now.  Please plug your phone directly to the modem.

Grouch:  But the telephone is not in the same room as the computer.

Fermin:  I understand you.  Please make sure to connect the wire or cable to the line 1 port at the back of the modem so that the wall outlet in your room will surely work.

Grouch:  The only way I can get a dial tone is by bringing the entire phone apparatus into this room and plugging it into the computer.  I don’t want the phone in this room.  I think perhaps you had better schedule a technician.

Fermin:  Yes.  I can see that there is an issue with your inside wiring.  The appointment schedule will be on 5/5/2012 between 2 pm and 4 pm.  Please keep this ticket as your reference.

Grouch:  You have to stop typing so I can write the number down.  This screen keeps scrolling by itself.

Fermin:  I’m glad I was able to help you.  Do you have any other questions or concerns I can help you with today? I just wanna make sure all your concerns will be taken cared of today.

Grouch:  They were not taken care of.  I will have to wait until Saturday and probably pay 49.95 to fix the problem.

Fermin:  I understand your concern.  Is there anything else I can help you with today?

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A St. Louis judge awarded more than seven million dollars to Tamara Favazza because her boobs wound up in a Girls Gone Wild video. Favazza does have nice boobs, but I don’t think they are worth a penny more than $500,000.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

We are trying to decide if The Grouchy Editor needs a new banner picture.  Problem is, there are just way too many pictures of that handsome devil, Grouchy, from which to choose.

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Quote of the Week 1:

“You can’t even believe what comes out of this guy’s mouth sometimes.” — MSNBC’s Krystal Ball, ranting about Mitt Romney.  I’m not sure that Krystal is the best person to be talking about things coming out of people’s mouths.  Remember these pictures, Krystal?

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Quote of the Week 2:

“I think his picture may appear next to the word ‘narcissism’ in the dictionary.” — HLN’s A.J. Hammer, chiding Simon Cowell.  Yup, I’d guess it appears right next to this picture of A.J. Hammer.

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We interrupt these pictures of pretty people to bring you a picture of the blobfish:

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In Stephen King’s Duma Key, the hero likes to watch Robin Meade on HLN.  In real life, Stephen King says he likes to watch Robin Meade on HLN.  Can’t say that I blame him.

Seems like every time I turn on the TV, cable news channels are introducing some new, pretty-but-fluffy anchor.  Meade is certainly pretty, and she doesn’t strike me as the brightest bulb on the tree, but geez … she’s so darned likable.  Wouldn’t you want her on your bowling team?

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NBC finally has a show I kinda like:  Off Their Rockers.  I could do with a bit less Betty White, because her segments are scripted and Betty’s “naughty grandma” act has worn a bit thin.  But the actual pranks, most of the time,  are a hoot.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Brazil Nuts

It was a busy week in South America.  We learned that a trio of Brazilians had indulged in cannibalism, cooking their victims and turning them into pastries.  Meanwhile, in nearby Colombia, President Obama’s Secret Service agents were also enjoying a piece of ass.

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Pity the poor Republicans.  They must sit back and watch in envy as Dems rake in all the love from movie stars, rock stars — most of the celebrity “cool kids.”  But when the GOP finally does land a celebrity fan, it’s this guy:

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— That’s Scarlett Johansson whining to Vogue about the hacked nudes of the actress that went viral last year.  Gee, Scarlett, those people had probably already seen your “…” on the cover of Vanity Fair, or in the scene below from your 2004 movie,  A Love Song for Bobby Long.  Terrible, isn’t it?

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Yes, yes, Mr. Meteorologist, we heard you the first time when you told us that it’s a myth that twisters never strike urban areas.  But what I’d like to know is this:  Why don’t tornadoes ever hit skyscrapers, and what would happen if they did?

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The most depressing aspect of this Dick Clark Is Dead hoopla?  My nagging hunch that someday we will have to go through the entire process again when Ryan Seacrest kicks the bucket.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Pretty Boys, Pansies, and Penises

Hollywood scuttlebutt says Johnny Depp has been tapped to play Nick Charles in a remake of the classic screwball mystery, The Thin Man.  This seems wrong on so many levels.

I like Johnny Depp.  I think he’s a fine actor.  But casting him as ladies man Nick Charles is like casting Arnold Schwarzenegger to play Danny DeVito’s twin brother.  Hold on.  That’s a bad example.

William Powell (above, with Myrna Loy) was the definitive Charles in the 1930s-’40s detective series.  Powell was a fast-talking smoothie who looked just right with a Scotch in one hand and wife Nora in the other.  He was a suave “man’s man” who mixed well with both high society and his ex-con buddies.

Depp is … soft.  He is many things, including attractive to women, but macho he ain’t.  Look at the pictures below.  Does Depp look more likely to steal your wife — or your boyfriend?  Uh-huh.

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CNN’s Fredricka Whitfield (above) lost it last weekend when a woman named Laura Saunders introduced Fredricka to a chicken.

Saunders:  “And that’s my rooster — little pecker.”

Whitfield:  “Funny, foul language always welcome!”

The rooster reminded me of Johnny Depp.

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Speaking of little peckers, we were treated this week to the following exchange between two adults in the room, Gloria Allred and Donald Trump:

Gloria:  “[A transgendered beauty contestant] didn’t ask Mr. Trump to prove he’s a naturally born man, or see photos of his birth, or to view his anatomy.”

Donald:  “I think Gloria would be very, very impressed with me.”

Gloria:   “I don’t have a magnifying glass strong enough to see something that small.  The world does not revolve around his penis.”

Allred is one of America’s pre-eminent lawyers, and Trump would like to be president.  Feel better about the future of our country?

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James Van Der Beek is back, starring on some ABC sitcom.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I was a fan of his old show, Dawson’s Creek.  Or maybe I am, since this clip from Dawson has popped up everywhere on the Internet.

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We are told that Ann Romney can relate to middle-class women because she raised five boys.  With professional house-cleaning help.  And with millions of dollars for things like health-care emergencies.  Or any other emergencies.

Hang tough, Hilary Rosen, because you were right.

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