The Grouchy Editor

“If you love someone, you forget what they look like.”  — Joy Behar reacting to the ad pictured above, which plugs a Web site for married cheaters.

I don’t know, Joy.  I appreciate the sentiment, but I think I’d have a hard time forgetting the appearance of this little honey.

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I don’t understand how Elisabeth Hasselbeck became a celebrity.  I remember her, vaguely, from her tenure on Survivor, but only because she pranced around in a bikini.  I guess that she had balls for confronting arch-enemy Bill Maher this week on The View, but she didn’t exactly advance her cause — assuming she has one.

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I’m just as pissed as anyone else about the mess at Penn State, but it does make me wonder — whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?  Has there ever been such a collective rush to judgment?

Possibly worst of all is HLN resident hothead Mike Galanos.  After playing the now-infamous interview in which Bob Costas asked Jerry Sandusky if he, Sandusky, is a pedophile, Galanos barked to viewers, “That was not a yes or no answer!” Granted, Sandusky hemmed and hawed in his reply, but he clearly said “no.”

God help any criminal defendant if Galanos ever lands on the jury.

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                      Haldeman                                                            Williams

A theory:  The “masters of the universe” on Wall Street and in the business world — like Freddie Mac’s Charles Haldeman and Fannie Mae’s Mike Williams, above — get away with screwing taxpayers and stockholders in large part because they look so … ordinary.

These guys invariably have bland public personalities and John Doe faces.  Hell, even their names are dull.  They remind everyone of the kindly ushers at a Lutheran church.  No one really notices them, which is precisely how they like it as they pick our pockets.

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Does anyone else recall Bradley Cooper, People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive,” from his man-on-man sex scene in Wet Hot American Summer?   Cooper (I know you want the details) assumes the “female position” in his auspicious motion picture debut.

Mel Gibson, some of us miss you.

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Speaking of men kissing men … the Vatican used its clout to get clothing retailer Benetton to stop using a doctored picture of Pope Benedict XVI kissing al-Azhar Sheikh Ahmed al-Tayyeb.  OK, Vatican, you can stop Benetton but you can’t stop all of us.  I will gladly post anything that belittles this Pope, because this Pope shields child molesters.

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Hard to say who had a tougher week:  Joe Paterno, who got fired and learned that he has cancer on the same day, or Robert Wagner, whom the police say is not a suspect in the re-opened Natalie Wood case, but whom everyone thinks is a suspect in the re-opened Natalie Wood case.

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And finally, as a long-suffering Minnesota Vikings fan, I think I might have found a soul-mate:

Click Here

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“Joe Paterno is Penn State!”  Or so we kept hearing from football fans distraught over the elderly coach’s firing.  I guess that means that Penn State is composed of clueless assholes.  Guess what, Penn State fans?  The vast majority of Americans don’t give a damn about you or your screwed-up school.  But we do take an interest in child molestation and massive cover-ups.

Penn State is playing a game today to begin the “healing process.” Playing the game to “honor the victims.”  What a load of horse manure.  This school needs to be punished before it can begin its “healing process,” and cancellation of its season would be a good start.

Looking at the bigger picture … outside of the Mafia and the Catholic Church, is there any institution more corrupt than college athletics?

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Sadly, my love affair with The Huffington Post seems to be over.  If I say something that she doesn’t like — nothing threatening or obscene, mind you; just things that she does not like — she censors me, apparently.  Not good for a Web site that supposedly champions free speech.

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I guess I was spoiled by the Casey Anthony and O.J. trials, but I’m sorry, this Conrad Murray business was as dull as dishwater.  Things perked up a bit when Murray’s stripper girlfriends (including the lovely lady pictured above) took center stage, but that was as exciting as things got.

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We had the first-ever nationwide test of the emergency broadcast system on Wednesday.  I am noticing more and more of these “tests” during my nocturnal TV vigils.  Should we be concerned about this?  Just curious ….

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I swear, Obama is at his most entertaining when he doesn’t realize he’s being recorded.  First, it was the “clinging to guns or religion” fiasco, now it’s this dig at Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu:

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I watched a tornado video on the news.  Once upon a time, tornado footage on TV was a pretty big deal.  But in this age of cell-phone cameras, twister videos have sadly gone the way of NASA rocket launches — no longer very special.  On the other hand, that tornado in The Wizard of Oz never gets old, does it?

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All Thumbs Edition 

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Entertainment Weekly — This magazine is like a good-looking woman with a flatulence problem.  Should you dump her, or try your damndest to overlook the gas?  EW is an exasperating mix of sharp, don’t-miss-them reviews and industry bullshit.  Readers have to wade through pages of show-business propaganda, glorified press releases, and other crap to get to the good stuff.  My advice:  Skip the first half of the magazine and go straight to the back, where they keep the reviews.

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What is it with Chris Matthews and his obsession with all things Kennedy?  The MSNBC host never misses an opportunity to gush about JFK, and now he’s written a book about his “fighting prince” and is making the media rounds, spitting on microphones and proclaiming his love for a man who — from what I can tell — ranks solidly “mediocre” on the scale of effective presidents.

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Bob Schieffer — who knew you were such a holier-than-thou, nanny-state-lovin’ nag?  I am referring to your chastisement of Herman Cain and his Internet “smoking” ad.  Last time I checked, smokers are citizens and smokers vote.  If I want your opinion, Bob, I’ll … never mind; I don’t want your opinion.

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Once upon a time, I was a movie geek in love with Rotten Tomatoes and Netflix.  Alas, Netflix succumbed to greed and Rotten Tomatoes grew indifferent to our relationship.  And so I found …

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… a new girlfriend, The Huffington Post.  She is fresh and exciting, but does have a tendency toward prickliness.  Certain topics are best avoided in her presence.  Thus far, she doesn’t seem to mind my comments about tumors and planets:

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Rachel Maddow points out that, so far, Herman Cain has A) quoted Pokémon during a Republican debate; B) issued an economic plan based on the video game SimCity; C) appealed to the nation’s smokers in an Internet ad; and D) launched into impromptu songs during his speeches.

Maddow suspects that Cain’s campaign might in fact be an elaborate practical joke he’s pulling on all of us, more performance art than presidential politics.  I think she might be onto something.  Just look at Herman’s smile in the picture above.  Would you buy a used car from this guy? 

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God help me, but I am happy to see these two knuckleheads back on MTV.

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Creepiest thing about the Herman Cain “smoking” ad?  Not the smoker, Cain chief of staff Mark Block (above), but rather the ominous, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on Cain’s face at the commercial fadeout.

And thanks, Wolf Blitzer, for sharing your opinion that an ad featuring smoking must be “idiotic.”  So is your beard.

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Watching Bill O’Reilly and Barbara Walters — both of them immensely wealthy — debate the motives of Occupy Wall Street protesters ranked pretty high on my Vomit Meter.

Of the two, Walters was worse because she claimed to actually understand the angry phenomenon.  At least O’Reilly didn’t hide his confusion.  Walters was on The O’Reilly Factor to promote something that comes more naturally to her:  a TV special in which she brown-noses billionaires.  Now those are people she can understand.

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“We are 50 million seniors who earned our benefits.”

Not so fast, Grandpa.  According to news reports, most seniors rake in much more in benefits than they paid for by the time they go to that great-big ice-cream social in the sky.  We are all of us in trouble here, so older people had better think twice before they join the rich as the only Americans who don’t seem to believe in “shared sacrifice.”

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 Wild Kingdom

I was watching Cujo on AMC, and ads for the SPCA kept interrupting the movie, with Sarah McLachlan imploring viewers, “Will you be an angel for a helpless animal?”

I repeat:  This was during a screening of Cujo.  You know, the story about a big dog with rabies that kills everyone?  This dog:

I don’t know, AMC.  Do you think Cujo viewers were likely in the mood to rescue helpless animals?

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“Do you want a moat with alligators?”

That was a question MSNBC’s Martin Bashir put to Arizona Sheriff Joe Arpaio during a discussion about the Mexican border.  I wasn’t interested in moats with alligators, so I flipped the channel to Fox News, where Shepard Smith announced that dozens of tigers, grizzly bears, lions and monkeys were running loose in Ohio.

I flipped back to AMC, but the movie about a rabid dog was no longer playing.

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The best reason to vote for Obama in 2012:

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Sorry, but when you go onstage looking like this, you are going to get the snide “fat” comments.

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OK, so I’m a little late to the party, but I am getting hooked on the History channel’s reality show, Pawn Stars.  The series has a winning formula:  Customers bring in their junk — a lot of it fascinating, some of it valuable — and it’s evaluated by Las Vegas pawn store employees Rick, Corey, Richard, and “Chumlee,” all of whom exhibit folksy charm.

Just one question:  Why aren’t there more female customers at the Gold & Silver Pawn Shop?

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This is how my dictionary defines “classic” —

I keep seeing the word “classic” used to describe movies and TV shows that are more than, oh, roughly ten years old.  Last week, I read that Hollywood is producing remakes of the “classic” 1980s movies The Thing and Footloose.  Entertaining movies, certainly, but classics?

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Great news from CBS:

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In promos for the new CNN show Outfront, host Erin Burnett waxes nostalgic about “growing up in a small town.”  Yeah, right, like she is just one of “the folks.”  Burnett’s actual background?  She grew up as the daughter of a corporate attorney and then enrolled at Williams College, an elite private school.  In other words, Burnett is just the latest in a string of sexy rich girls riding the Barbie Doll bandwagon of cable news.

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The creators of TV ads must spend hours brainstorming ideas on how to produce the most grating, nausea-inducing means of assaulting viewers.   That’s the only theory I can come up with to explain this monstrosity from Goodwill.  Click here, if you dare.

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Rapper Ice-T told Jimmy Fallon that anybody can write a book.  “Sure you could write a book,” the literary genius said.  “It’s not that hard.  I mean, what you do is, you get with a co-writer that teaches you how to actually write books.”

Ice-T and his equally brainy wife, Coco (who also “wrote” a book), join Snooki in proving that yes, indeed, anybody can write a book — just like anybody can sing as well as Ice-T in the shower.

In keeping with “The Weekly Review’s” theme of showcasing female buttocks, here are pictures of authorial sensations Ice-T and Coco at the beach.   Stop gawking at Ice-T’s man-boobs.  You are looking at Ice-T’s man-boobs, aren’t you?

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This is a mug shot of Delbert Huber.  Huber is a farmer accused of shooting and killing his neighbor during a dispute over fifty bucks.  Huber is from a small town near the small town where I grew up.

Now you know everything you need to know about Delbert Huber — and me.

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Washington Post columnist Jen Chaney wrote about the upcoming televised marriage of skanky Kim Kardashian to Frankenstein’s monster:

I think Minnesotans would be wise to take any sort of putdown from Kardashian — a spoiled, worthless idiot if ever there was one — as a compliment.

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Andrea Tarantula — excuse me, Tantaros — was guest ombudswoman on Fox’s Red Eye and led off the show by promising to deliver her comments while topless.  She didn’t follow up on her promise, but now we know why viewers tune in to this show in the middle of the night.

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Smug, unhip, and irrelevant Dennis Miller poked fun at the “losers” participating in the Occupy Wall Street protests.  Hey Dennis, know what a real loser is?  A rich, middle-aged jerk who references obscure Greek philosophers, thinks that makes him an intellectual, and laughs at his own jokes.

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Hey, Entertainment Weekly, do you miss Charlie Sheen yet?

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Years ago, I was a reporter working at the Republican National Convention in Dallas.  One day I overheard 60 Minutes curmudgeon Andy Rooney speaking to a companion.  He said something like, “I couldn’t believe the quality of the food at that place!”

So it seemed fitting to me that Rooney’s final commentary on Sunday ended with, “If you do see me in a restaurant, please, just let me eat my dinner.”  Bon appetit, old fart!

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Folks in Minnesota are excited about the Lynx, a women’s basketball team on the verge of winning the WNBA championship.  Women’s sports often struggle to attract media attention and, until recently, the Lynx have been no exception.

The pictures below have absolutely nothing to do with sports, and I suppose it’s sexist to post them, but look what I found on Lynx guard Candice Wiggins’s Facebook page.  Hey, it’s the first rule of advertising:  Get the customer’s attention.

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hmmmm … lots of lingering shots of  Dylan McDermott’s bare backside in the first episode of American Horror Story, butt the show seemed to go out of its way to avoid any displays of female flesh.  Connie Britton had sex  — without so much as removing her slip.  A maid played with herself — without removing her uniform.

Ryan Murphy is the openly gay brains behind Glee, Nip/Tuck, and now this series.  That might explain things.

As for the show itself, the jury is still out.  I didn’t think it was particularly scary, but it was stylish and had some fun nods to horror films of the past.  I especially dug the music, which borrowed everything from the whistling in Twisted Nerve to Bernard Herrmann’s soaring score in Vertigo.

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Seems like every week there is some pressing reason to post a picture of a sexy actress’s rear end.  This week, it’s David Letterman grilling George Clooney about Vera Farmiga’s bare ass in Clooney’s movie Up in the Air.

Letterman:  “You see her butt … I was just curious, was that hers, or a stand-in’s?”

Clooney:  “I’m not really at liberty to answer that question.”

Clearly, some research was called for.  Someone needed to get to the bottom of this.  According to Web sites that study this sort of thing, the derriere in question belongs to a body double named Sarah Tuttle (above).  But just in case Dave is reading this, here is a picture of Farmiga’s actual butt, from something called Running Scared:

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The media informs us that Jesus Christ died this week.  Funny, because I thought I was getting along just fine in life, more or less, for many years before I even heard of Steve Jobs.  And I suspect that I will get along just fine, more or less, now that Jobs has gone to iHeaven.

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Thursday’s “breaking news” by The Onion was inspired satire.  Here is an excerpt:

Too bad the media is populated with humorless halfwits.  Conservative blogger Michelle Malkin whined that “the satirists at The Onion took things too far.”  Malkin was probably taken in by the spoof and is now bitter about revealing her own naivete.  I’m not sure which is worse, being duped by such obvious tomfoolery or being afflicted with terminal crabbiness.  Incredibly, the panelists on Fox’s Red Eye debated whether or not the story was funny.  Isn’t Red Eye supposed to be a humor show?

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The two most annoying laughs on television:  a woman in a Wheel of Fortune commercial, and actor Seth Rogen on any talk show.  If you are a glutton for punishment, you may listen to them both and decide which is more unbearable.  Click here for the braying donkey (Rogen) on David Letterman; click here for the cackling hyena in the Wheel of Fortune ad.

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ESPN’s documentary Catching Hell chronicles the mob mentality that victimized poor Steve Bartman (above) during the 2003 baseball playoffs.  Bartman’s grab for a foul ball was deemed “fan interference” by Chicago Cubs fans, who then blamed the team’s ensuing loss on Bartman.  After watching all of the crap these idiots put Bartman through,  I am hoping that the Cubs never get to a World Series, simply because their “fans” don’t deserve one.

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Political Scoop of the Week:

“My wife was betrothed to him.” — Larry King to Joy Behar, somehow garbling his description of the childhood relationship between his wife and Republican presidential candidate Jon Huntsman

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Scarlett Johansson wrote a Huffington Post blog about the plight of Kenyans.  I left a comment on the blog, praising her (sincerely) for drawing attention to a good cause, and praising her (sincerely) for taking nude pictures of herself that are now all over the Internet.

My comment was deleted for violating terms of the Web site.  Ridiculous.

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Eva Longoria never fails to amaze me.  Not only is she a talented actress, but her sporting exploits are legendary.  Below are pictures of Eva excelling at volleyball and at baseball.  Longoria recently propelled Tampa Bay into baseball’s playoffs by clouting a game-winning home run.

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It’s the new Fall Season on network TV!  I couldn’t bear the thought of missing out on any of the excitement, so I tuned in to four of America’s most popular shows.  This is what I learned:

Two and a Half Men is painfully, embarrassingly bad television.  I’m guessing that it sucked when Charlie Sheen was the star (I didn’t watch), but it couldn’t possibly have been worse than the uninspired drivel with Ashton Kutcher.

Dancing with the Stars was equally dreary.  I did learn why viewers never get to see Nancy Grace below the waist on her HLN show.  Can you say “chubby”?

The mass appeal of Modern Family escapes me.  The “shaky cam” is annoying, the political correctness is heavy-handed, and I almost — not quite, but almost — wished there was canned laughter, if only to remind me that the show is supposed to be funny.  Ed O’Neill, so memorable on Married … with Children, is wasted here.

Simon Cowell — I am sick of this guy.  His grumpy shtick was amusing years ago, but I am tired of watching the famous Cowell scowl.  The X Factor versus American Idol?  They are the same show.

Summary:  I must be completely out of touch with the American viewing public.  The public is addicted to junk.  On the other hand, I am hooked on Survivor.

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“If the thing happens to come down in a city, that would be bad.” — Harvard astrophysicist Jonathan McDowell, reassuring none of us about the falling space satellite which, according to the image shown above, might have tumbled down in my neck of the woods ….

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Feminist of the Week:  Mike Tyson

This is what Tyson had to say last week, talking about Sarah Palin on an ESPN station: 

“You want her to be with somebody like [Dennis] Rodman …. You want someone like Rodman — yeah baby!  Let’s get that donkey in here now.  Just imagine Palin with a big old black stallion ripping.  Yeehaw!”  And later:  “She could always get boned out by a black person, a vote to bang her.”

And more:  “Everybody got to get that out of their system when they get out of college.  If you’re a black man, every white girl, every uppity middle-class … everybody got to get their share of love.”  Believe it or not, I’ve omitted some of Tyson’s more colorful comments.

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Then why don’t you quit Fox and work somewhere else for free?  I’m sure Paul Ryan would support that:

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Anderson Cooper is officially … everywhere:  CNN, 60 Minutes, talk shows, New Year’s Eve specials.  Try as I might, I haven’t really been able to ferret out anything truly despicable about the guy, but that does not mean that I want to see so damn much of him.  Get out of my living room, Cooper, and take your girlish giggle with you.

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On the other hand, it seems obvious that the Salahis need some company, so I am pulling out my hide-a-bed, just for them.  But tell that creep from Journey to buzz off.

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I watched a TV interview with a representative of Ducks Unlimited.  Yes, my life really is that sad and pathetic.  The rep was asked what attracted him to Ducks Unlimited (silly question) and he replied:  “Something just snapped, and I became a water fowler.”

I could not let this kind of comment pass without some good-natured ribbing, so I Web-searched Ducks Unlimited, found it, and sent off an e-mail.  I got this reply:

Hi [Grouch]

Welcome back to Minnesota.  I appreciate your comment and wish I could have taken the remark back.  To be clear, “you guys” is me.  I was the dude that made the comment.  Unfortunately, at that moment I didn’t represent the best of Ducks Unlimited or the great volunteers of Minnesota.

Thank you for the feedback,

Dave Flink/Minnesota State Chair/SCSU 1980

There are so many things wrong with this.  Welcome back to Minnesota?  What does that mean?  And the guy apparently went to my college (SCSU).  And he graduated the same year that I did.  Do I somehow know him? Worse, does he know me?  The lesson:  Be very careful before you mess with Ducks Unlimited.

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CBS anchorman Scott Pelley has an unfortunate Ted Baxter thing going on.  Like Ted, Pelley looks and sounds like he’s seated in front of a mirror, practicing his anchor voice.

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And you thought that Jay Leno has a gigantic chin?

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I’m not sure why the nude pictures of Scarlett Johansson are considered big news.  She’s an attractive actress showing off her bare ass — like that’s never happened before.

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There must be a God:

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This is the kind of thing that happens to you when you live next door to a writer:

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