News Update, corrected

So I may have been a little hasty in my last posting. Eliot Spitzer (who, among other character flaws, doesn't believe in the wonders of extraneous first-name consonants) may ruin a hell of a lot of things: people's faith in elected officials, his marriage, Lauren Bell's personal time with Alex Trebec, etc. etc., BUT a single man, no matter how rich or powerful or stupid cannot possibly ruin everything. That would be ridiculous. It would take at least 5 of ESpitz and a smattering of other people with similarly ridiculous nicknames (Speidi anyone?) to truly bring about the end of civilization as we know it. 

There are, however, some other unsavory characters vying for the title of "everything-ruiner" -- much to the collective relief of the four horsemen of the apocalypse (let's face it, the waiting game must be getting pretty old for them by now).

One of these responsible and hard-working souls is someone with whom you may be familiar. His name is Chef Bobby Flay. I believe he had the "Chef" legally added as insurance after Rachel Ray beat him on an Iron Chef showdown (thank you, Wikipedia, for that priceless nugget). There's nothing more damaging to your chef reputation that being shown up by the Triscuit Queen.

Everything about this man rubs me the wrong way. And, as if offending me by his very being weren't enough, he manages to smear his personal brand of horrendousness on approximately 19 different Food Network shows, thus making himself inescapable to those of you who, like me, insist on watching only the FN if Jeopardy is not on. 

An illustrative example: "Throw Down."

Are you aware of this atrocity? "Throw Down" is a television program in which Flay, bored with annoying just me, tricks people -- tricks them -- into thinking they are being showcased on the FN (yeah, I'm going to keep calling it that) for their personal recipes: Edna's Texas Chili, etc.

Then, he sits around in the Food Network test kitchen and demands that his soulless minions concoct a better recipe of the same ilk. He shows up to a party full of poor, unsuspecting Edna's family and friends and tells her, "No, I'm not here to honor you. I'm here to potentially humiliate you...THROW DOWN!" He might also say things like "BOO-YAH" and "Oh SNAP" -- he's that awful.

The minions, bearing the specially-prepared recipe, descend upon Edna's party like a plague of locusts. Snooty guest judges sweep in from secret side doors. Giant Mao-esque banners featuring Flay's all-mocking mug unfurl across the kitchen.

Bobby Flay (which I first typed as "Booby Fly." And then I laughed. Because I'm nine years old.), trying to figure out why you do this every week makes my head hurt. Edna has been making her Texas Chili for 97 years, and everyone has already agreed that it is the best. Why must you rob her of her hard-earned mantle of good-cookery? Is it because Rachel Ray stole yours?

Well, I don't care, Flay. What you're doing is just wrong. Write Rachel a nice letter asking for your mantle back. Release your minions from their miserable bondage and stop surprising people. Please, start putting your time towards something productive, and not encouraging the destruction of all goodness. You are upsetting me. You are upsetting Edna. And somehow, I'm sure, Trebek has heard about this and is shedding a single, phoenix-like tear. 

News Update: Eliot Spitzer Ruins Everything

So Eliot Spitzer, governor of New York, was busted today for taking part in a "high-class" prostitution ring. 

Note #1: Honey, just because they're actually women and you pay them a lot doesn't make them classy. Nice try there, though. Imagine if he had been busted for taking part in a "skanky-ass, chlamydia-ridden, reality-TV-ready prostitution ring." Someone give his press people a bonus. 

Note #2: When I first saw the headline for this story, I read it to mean that Eliot Spitzer was a high-class prostitute. (insert hackneyed 'politics is full of prostitutes' joke...[wait for it]...here). Wasn't he once known as the Sheriff of Wall Street or some such boondoggle? God, what a great stripper theme -- money and assless chaps. I can see where he would be tempted to try it.

And #3, the real tragedy: Because I am an ignorant, apolitical fool, I didn't really care about his little shenanigans (especially when I could no longer picture our once-esteemed governor showing up at someone's hotel room wearing something sassy). 

What I did care about was coming home from my horrible job and winding down with some Jeopardy at 7:00. I fed my fish, removed my shoes and plopped down, only to find Eliot Spitzer's face where Alex Trebek's should be! Coverage of that philandering phool (Spitzer, not Trebek) had superseded all my Daily Doubles and questions posed as answers! Yelling at the face of a stupid politician on TV is simply not as soothing as yelling out answers to esoteric questions. Watching Spitzer apologize for getting caught doesn't make me feel smug -- I still don't know if I am smarter than him, and I certainly haven't won more money -- it just makes me feel shocked a disappointed. 

Minor note, 3a: The worst part about the "breaking news" that totally destroyed my evening: it was mostly the News Team talking to "New York Voters" out on the street. The problem: all of their men on the street were people grabbed straight from Times Square. At 7 at night. How many of those people do you think are from New York at all? I don't need to hear that some Ohio tourist is surprised to hear the news about our governor (and no shit you won't vote for him, lady -- we all know you are here to see Spamalot). What I need to hear right now is the name of the second-highest mountain range in the 27th latitude. 

Moral: Spitzer ruins lives.