The Grouchy Editor

There are rumors afoot …

Gossip sites are speculating about Oprah and her gal pal, Gayle King.  Are the two of them lesbians?  Apparently, many people care about this.

I don’t like Oprah.  On her unctuous show, she sits there like an obese, slit-eyed queen, passing judgment on lowly commoners who are foolish enough to stand before her throne.  From time to time, Oprah will nod at some offstage minion, who will then bestow gifts on Oprah’s fawning audience.  A trip to Australia?  Why not, as long as the Australian tourism bureau picks up the cost, and Oprah gets the credit?

Her Obesity even manages to intimidate the rich and powerful.  Just ask author Jonathan Franzen, who attempted to resist Her Omnipotence but then capitulated when the Fat Lady sang.

So is she a lesbian?  I doubt it.  I think Oprah makes love only to herself.

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Rex Ryan’s thing for women’s feet, Brett Favre’s penis pictures … what can be next for the National Fetish League?  It all kind of makes that whole Vikings “love boat” thing seem quaint.

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Oscar speculation is running rampant.  Black Swan, The King’s Speech, The Social Network, et al, have set tongues a-wagging.  But to my untrained eye, the most spectacular newcomer on the Tinseltown scene is a sparkling young entertainer who goes by the simple moniker “Hollywood.”

She will make you laugh, she will make you cry, she will make you shake your head and mutter, “Who the hell is this Hollywood?”

She is equally adept at action (above) and red-carpet décolletage (below).  Her caboose rivals that of J.Lo.  Keep your eye on this talented singer/writer/dancer/actress/accountant, because I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of her.

That’s my opinion and I’m stickin’ to it.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

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‘Tis the Season for Giving (to the rich)

I don’t know about you, but at this time of year it warms my heart to see the rich getting everything they desire.  A two-year extension of the Bush tax cuts?  No problem, Mr. Trump.  A cutback of the horribly unfair estate tax?  Have some more caviar, Mr. Gates.  Time magazine’s Person of the Year?  It’s our honor, Mr. Zuckerberg.  Taxes still too high?  Just move your business out of America, Mr. Manufacturer — and be sure to enjoy the cheap labor in Mexico.

Isn’t it ridiculous how the middle class keeps waging warfare on America’s rich?  It’s Christmas, so please enjoy this picture of what the rich are giving to the rest of us:

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You won’t find a bigger Beatles fan than Yours Truly, but after watching 68-year-old Paul McCartney croak last week on Saturday Night Live … well, let’s just acknowledge that we ain’t at The Cavern Club anymore.

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What the hell is wrong with this man?

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What happens when you watch too many movies?  You could wind up flat on the floor and looking foolish, like Florida school board member Ginger Littleton, who apparently thought she was The Bionic Woman when she swung her purse at a man twice her size.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Jerks of the Week

The Swedish “rape” victims:  I have no idea if WikiLeaks rabble-rouser Julian Assange is a “man of the people” or just a dangerous publicity hound, but from what I’ve read, the rape charges against him appear to be a joke.  If these two women had consensual sex with Assange and then got their feelings hurt, well, welcome to Jerks of the Week.

Josh Duhamel:  You make this list for acting like a spoiled brat on an airplane.  Turn off your damn BlackBerrry and stop inconveniencing other passengers.  Your movies suck, too.

Drew Pinsky:  This pompous narcissist needs some doctoring, himself.  I don’t know how he manages to constantly be on TV, because it must be difficult for him to tear himself away from dressing-room mirrors.

Obama:  I voted for you, and you are still light-years superior to any Republican, but you need to stop reneging on campaign promises and blaming others for your failures.

Bristol Palin:  You are only, what, 19 years old?  And yet you already have a double-chin and thunder thighs.  Yes, Bristol, you are fat.

Elizabeth Edwards:  I know, I know, it’s not polite to speak ill of the recently deceased.  But it is also a load of horse manure to bestow sainthood on a woman who doesn’t qualify for the honor.  Yes, her husband was a vain and feckless loser, and yes, it’s too bad she got cancer.  But geez, people, read the book Game Change, in which Elizabeth comes off as a shrill, bullying harridan — and quite possibly mentally unstable.  I read the book and thought, “No wonder John ran away from her.”

Wesley Snipes:   You just had to play the race card on your Larry King appearance, didn’t you?  Poor fella.  Now it’s off to a country-club jail for this tax cheat.

The Kardashians:   Kim is reportedly the highest-paid reality TV star ($6 million per year), so naturally she and her awful sisters tried to bilk their fans for even more via a credit-card scam.

Surgeon General Regina Benjamin:  Said she, “That one puff on that cigarette could be the one that causes your heart attack.”  Right, Regina.  From the looks of you, I’d say that just one more bite out of a Twinkie could lead to a heart attack for you.

Former Playboy Playmate Donna D’Errico:   Donna was upset that she got a full-body scan at the airport.  Hard to sympathize with you, because a Google search of your name calls up 17 million nude pictures.

Bad Mob:  The morons of the Westboro Baptist Church, who protest at the funerals of dead soldiers.

Good Mob:   The student protestors in England who made life uncomfortable for Prince Charles and Camilla.  Hey, Charles, your country is on the verge of bankruptcy — take the bus for once in your privileged life.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

For a bunch of supposedly smart people, scientists sure are rotten at public relations.  This week, NASA decided to interrupt all regular news programming for a “major announcement.”  This announcement, we were told, would be about the search for alien life.  I got excited.  Did they find little green men?  Had someone (or something) in the universe finally responded to those old episodes of The Honeymooners we have been beaming into space?

Nope.  Instead, a condescending, annoying scientist named Felisa Wolfe-Simon came on camera and proceeded to talk down to the world about her big find — some microscopic potato-things in California with arsenic in their DNA.

Yawn.  I’m sorry, but I’d rather watch The Honeymooners.

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One day about 15 years ago I was sitting in an office in downtown Ft. Worth, Texas, when someone looked out the window and noticed a film crew working on the street below.  It was lunchtime, so I went outside and had a look-see.  They were shooting an episode of Walker, Texas Ranger, a CBS show starring Chuck Norris.

It was chilly that day — for Texas.  It might have been in the 40s.  I glanced to my right and noticed a man standing on the sidewalk.  He was visibly trembling, grasping his shoulders and red of face.  My first thought was, “What a wimp.”  My second thought was, “Hey, that’s Chuck Norris.”

I thought of that on Thursday when I read that Texas Gov. Rick Perry had named Norris an honorary member of the Texas Rangers.  Guess they’ll accept anybody.

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I was accused this week of being a “boobies man.”  I resent that.  I am a “butt man.”  Here is evidence:

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

—–Original Message—–

Sent: Friday, November 26, 2010 5:31 AM

To: guest.relations@target.com

Subject: Westinghouse 42″ TV on Black Friday Ad

Congratulations. I can’t imagine a better, more efficient way of alienating customers and generating bad word-of-mouth than the way your store just treated me on “Black Friday.” You lure people in for a Westinghouse high-definition TV for $298, let us stand in line in 10-degree weather for an hour, then open the doors at 4 a.m. and … at 4:05 inform us that the TV is sold out. This should be criminal. Not only will I never set foot in a Target again, I will do my damndest to tell everyone I know about this horrendous experience.

From: guest.relations@target.com

Sent: Friday, November 26, 2010 9:31 PM

Subject: RE: Westinghouse 42″ TV on Black Friday Ad

Dear Sir,

I’m sorry the advertised Westinghouse inch TV wasn’t available for you to buy at your Target store and I apologize for your disappointing experience on Black Friday.

We work hard to make sure you find the things you’re looking for at Target. A number of factors may impact the availability of our merchandise and sometimes sales of a particular item may exceed our expectations, even when our buyers do their best to anticipate guest interest. Whenever quantities of certain advertised items are limited we’ll let you know this right in the circular.

I understand that you’d still like to purchase this item, the TV description also had a statement “quantities limited; no rain checks.”  While I can understand how frustrating this was for you, we’re unable to offer you further resolution.

Your comments are very important us, and I’ll be sure to share them with our buyers.

Thanks for writing. Hearing about your experience helps us make Target even better.

Sincerely,

Garry

Target Guest Relations

Sent: Saturday, November 27, 2010 5:48 AM

To: guest.relations@target.com

Subject: Westinghouse 42″ TV on Black Friday Ad

And I’ll do my best to forever boycott your store, and encourage everyone I know to do the same. What you wrote is a crock, and we both know it. You were fully aware you didn’t have enough of the item in stock. You do, however, an excellent job in customer alienation, and in creating lifelong enemies.

Happy holidays!

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I stopped reading the “funny pages” in 1995, mostly because they weren’t in the least bit funny, but also because that’s when Gary Larson retired his brilliant strip, The Far Side.  But recently I discovered a guy named Tony Carrillo whose offbeat strip, F Minus, reminds me a lot of Larson.  Incredibly, against all odds, the thing is actually pretty damn amusing.  Most of the time.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

I’m so happy that I don’t fly much these days.  That means I can sit back and chortle over the “pat-down vs. body-scan” hullabaloo at airport security checks.  But I do agree with what’s-his-name, the toothy guy from California, who says the TSA’s procedures would be considered sexual assault were they not performed by the government.

As for same-sex patdowns … what if the TSA guy is gay?  For me, that would be more uncomfortable than having a woman do my crotch-cuddling.  Perhaps they could institute “don’t ask, don’t tell” hiring requirements for screeners.

Less intrusive measures are needed, if only because the law of “slippery slope” suggests that government will next be patting us down at shopping malls and baseball games.  I suggest more profiling — based on behavior, not ethnicity.  Profiling will be abused, of course, but then everything is abused.

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American Men Are Sick

All this talk about redemption and forgiveness for Philadelphia quarterback Michael Vick misses the point.  Football fans apparently think, “OK, Vick paid his debt to society, now let him get on with his life.”  But Vick “getting on with his life” does not mean the same thing as it does for 99.9 percent of other ex-cons.  In Vick’s case, it means wealth and fame beyond a person’s wildest dreams.  That’s not forgiveness, that’s a return to Mount Olympus.  All this mindless jock worship is the fault of American men. 

American Women Are Sick

Britain is atwitter over the engagement of Prince William and Kate Middleton.  This, despite horrific economic problems in that country.  No, England persists in wasting millions of pounds on its outdated, class-based Royal Family.

“The less romantic groaned, while the rest of us swooned,” gushed CNN’s Brooke Baldwin about the engagement.  Ugh.  “All those people who say we shouldn’t be covering this — it’s fun!” enthused another CNN reporter.  Ugh, again.  There is nothing “romantic” or “fun” about wasting millions on these privileged people while so many can’t pay the rent.  I blame the hysteria on this side of the pond on American women.

William in happier times

American Gays Are Sick

Three good reasons to ignore Dancing with the Stars:  1) The premise is flawed and unfair.  How do professional dancers like Jennifer Grey (Dirty Dancing) wind up competing against amateurs like Bristol Palin?  2) The show is less about talent and more about popularity.  How else to explain the continued success of Palin, whom most objective observers describe as gymnastically challenged?   3) It’s a stupid show.  I blame its popularity on American gays.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

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“Horrific.”  “Awful conditions.”  “Harrowing experience.”

That’s some of the hyperbole used to describe the Carnival cruise-ship expedition that went bad near San Diego this week.  Ship guests were deprived of hot water for a spell, and had to subsist on cold food.

Poor babies.  I can only imagine the tears of sympathy shed by the Chilean miners when they heard about this.

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            The Strange Case of Dr. Anderson and Mr. Cooper

We all know that CNN’s ratings are in the tank, but what on earth have they done to poor Anderson Cooper?  Recently, our fair-haired lad has gone from puppy-dog cute (ask Kathy Griffin) to attack-dog mode.  Everything seems to infuriate Anderson.  This week, he is upset about Amazon promoting a pedophile-friendly book.  In his rage, Cooper seems to be calling for censorship.

I’m not sure what’s behind this personality shift, but I suspect that some honcho at CNN pulled Cooper aside and said, “Enough with this Boy Scout routine.  If we’re going to compete, you must toughen up — be more like Mike Wallace!”  I don’t think it will work.  I think he misses Kathy Griffin.

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Idiotic Quote of the Week:

So now Conan O’Brien is heroic?  Once again, the Chilean miners must be weeping in sympathy.  Wait … those miners weren’t really heroes, either.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

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From a news report:

“127 Hours has gotten audiences fainting, vomiting and worse in numbers unseen since The Exorcist — and the movie has not even hit theaters yet.  A report in The Sun claimed that ‘horrified film fans threw up and fainted at the premiere of Slumdog Millionaire director Danny Boyle’s shocking new movie,’ which closed the London Film Festival last week.  ‘Boyle looked on as paramedics treated fans struggling to cope with gruesome scenes.’  And the person sitting near Daily Mail reviewer Chris Tookey ‘left just after the most gruesome bit and never came back,’ apparently rebuking ‘the most harrowing bone-breaking and amputation scene in the history of cinema.’”

Who are these wimps?  It’s a frickin’ movie, people!  Does someone also wipe your arse for you?

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Zach Galifianakis:  Everywhere I turn, I am seeing stories about this bearded John Belushi wannabe.  Galifianakis first came to public awareness in The Hangover, a movie in which he displays exactly one emotion — a glower — and for which he was heralded as some kind of comic genius.  He is now starring with Robert Downey, Jr. in Due Date, an uninspired comedy getting trashed by the nation’s critics.  Here is what Roger Ebert says about Galifianakis in Due Date:

This guy also made the news for — wait for it! — pretending to smoke a joint on Bill Maher’s HBO show.  And he again made news by reportedly wielding his immense Star Power by whining to director Todd Phillips that he could not work with disgraced actor Mel Gibson in the upcoming The Hangover Part II.  I am baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled by this guy’s sudden emergence as a Hollywood player.  It makes no sense.

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Stop It!

I watch too much cable news.  I know this, because I no longer pay attention to the actual news and am instead transfixed by the anchors and their annoying physical quirks.  Recently, I shared my irritation with entertainment reporter Kim Serafin, who is a living bobble-head doll.  I was also freaked out by Fox anchor Harris Faulkner’s enormous eyeballs.  I am now adding two more anchor pet peeves to my growing list.

I was watching The Larry King Show.  Larry was off-camera as the show prepared to go to a commercial break.  Suddenly, on the audio track, there came a wet, clicking sound — a slurpy, gnashing, glop!  The sound was familiar to me:  It was Larry running his tongue over his dentures.

CNN anchor Brooke Baldwin is a fox, no doubt about it, but she has the alarming habit of continually darting her eyes off to her right.  I can’t watch her for more than a few minutes without witnessing this odd phenomenon.   It appears as though someone just off-camera suddenly popped off a fart, catching poor Brooke off her guard.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

There is something to be said for having low credibility.  Cases in point:  Jerry Springer and Dick Morris.  I watch a lot of cable news, too much really, and it gets old listening to the same talking heads as they blather on about this or that.  But Springer and Morris, both of whom are considered jokes by a lot of people, understand that they have little to lose by speaking their minds — and they do so, most entertainingly.

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Quote of the Week:  “There’s a four-letter word in there.” — Fox anchor Megyn Kelly issuing a viewer “warning” before showing a clip of Joy Behar calling Republican candidate Sharron Angle a “bitch” (count the letters).

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I can’t be the only one who finds this bedbug infestation in New York City hilarious.

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Job I Want:  Cameraman for CBS’ Survivor.  This week, the boys showed off their cinematographic skills by focusing on contestant Brenda Lowe (above and below).

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Dangerous Occupation Number One:  ESPN Sideline Reporter

News Report — An ESPNU reporter smashed a window in her hotel room after being told by a caller that the room was on fire, the website The Smoking Gun reported Thursday.

Police said [Elizabeth] Moreau, in Gainesville to cover a women’s volleyball match between Florida and Tennessee, told them she became suspicious when the caller then told her “that’s what she gets for being a bad ex-wife” and made a disparaging remark about her sexual performance.

Moreau joins ESPN’s Erin Andrews on my list of Most Dangerous Occupations.  Andrews, you might recall, was victimized by some nutball who videotaped her through a hole in the wall as she pranced around naked in her hotel room.

Dangerous Occupation Number Two:  Ex-Movie Star

News Report — Actor Randy Quaid and his wife Evi were arrested in Vancouver on Wednesday for immigration violations charges after recently skipping a court date in California. … The headline-grabbing couple originally made news back in September when they were charged with felony burglary on suspicion of illegally squatting in the guest house of a California home they owned in the 1990s.

Celebrity bounty hunter Duane “Dog” Chapman issued a public challenge to the couple on Thursday night, urging Quaid to turn himself in or he would capture them personally.

Seems clear to me that the Quaids are this generation’s Bonnie and Clyde, and Dog the Bounty Hunter is our Eliot Ness.  Being an ex-movie star is now one of the Most Dangerous Occupations.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)