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And That's When My Head Exploded

2003-10-07 - 3:06 p.m.

Sometimes, I think to myself, "God bless the internet."

Because, among other things, it lets me have my own little publishing space right here. Also, it provides me with e-mail, friendster, mp3s, eBay, google, and all sorts of other yummy stuff.

At the same time, just a little websurfing can make you want to go into a corner with a blanket and your hands over your ears going "La la la la la I can't hear you la la la la la . . . " Because people say a lot of stupid things, and write a lot of stupid things, and the internet takes them all down like an annoying little sister ready to tattle on you to your mother or embarrass you in front of your friends.

For example, I've already covered Rob Lowe briefly in this diary. As many of us could have guessed, his new show's a piece of crap (even if it has Frances Fisher as a secretary who randomly bitch-slaps full grown men, and that's nothing to be sneezed at), he was stupidly narcissistic in becoming a part of the Schwarzenegger campaign (yes, he is going to win but no, it still didn't do anything for Lowe's career), and now he has taken the time to make a little comment about Aaron Sorkin, the creator of The West Wing, who pissed Lowe off because he kept on making Lowe's part smaller (not to mention the fact that Lowe's salary remained at about $70,000 per episode as opposed to Martin Sheen's $300,000).

Lowe said, "Why didn't (Sorkin) know how much I loved him, how much I loved that show? Why didn't he love me like I loved him? It's weird, considering it's another man, but that's as close as I can put it."

Oy . . .

Now I totally respect that Rob Lowe loved him. What I don't understand is why it was so weird to say that he loved another man? Why? Let me demonstrate with a fictional scenario:

Me: Hey there Straight Guy Friend, what's up?

SGF: Well, RRZ, I'm kinda bummed.

Me: Aw, what's up?

SGF: Well, I got fired today.

Me: Dude! That blows!

SGF: Yeah, and what really sucks is that I got along so well with the boss. I mean, he was like family. I loved the guy.

Me: Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I'd offer to bring you home and have sex with you, but nothing in this or any conversation we've had so far has indicated that you are attracted to other men. Can I buy you a beer?

SGF: Sure. In fact, you can buy me a strawberry daiquiri, because I'm comfortable in my sexuality.

Any guy who can't say he loves another guy has problems. Problems. Straight guys love their dads and their sons and their brothers and if they don't, then there's a totally different kind of problem going on. For that matter, straight guys should be able to say they love their fellow straight guy friends, and their gay guy friends for that matter. Rob Lowe is an idiot, and he makes my head hurt. If it weren't for the fact that Kim is recapping The Lyon's Den on TWoP, he'd be dead to me, do you hear me? Dead!

Speaking of dead, John Ritter.

Oh, go ahead and boo, I deserve it. Actually, as much as I was floored by Johnny Cash dying, and as much as St. Caroline and I spent an entire weekend laughing at all the John Ritter tribute specials and Three's Company tie-ins, including our experience of justice--a Joyce DeWitt kind of justice (tm Miss Alli)--I still felt bad that he had to die so soon, and that Amy Yasbeck, who I always liked, had to be a widow. However, I do not deserve your scorn anywhere near as much as Frazier Moore of the Associated Press, who had this to say about the death of Ritter and subsequent renewal of 8 Simple Rules

"But now those 8 Simple Rules (whatever they were) have been supplanted by two simple rules:

Life is finite, and sometimes painfully short.

On TV, nothing trumps money. Therefore, the tragic absence of Ritter from the series of which he (and the character he played) was the centerpiece is clearly beside the point. "8 Simple Rules ..." is a show that's up and running, and a modest hit, so, come what may, it must be sustained."

I think this guy wrote Tom Cruise's "Now more than ever" post Sept 11th Oscar speech, and really there is no greater insult I can give a person. This man should be ashamed--ashamed, I tell you!--that he actually wrote that the 8 simple rules had been "supplanted by two simple rules." See, I'm all about gallows humor, but I feel like if you're going to make a joke in relation to the death of someone who was really good at comedy, it had better damn well be good. If I were Amy Yasbeck I would find the guy and point a gun to his head and say, "My husband's performance in Noises Off alone warranted something more than you playing off of his sitcom title! What next, 'Three's Company, But Death Lives Here Full Time?' I hereby pull this trigger in the name of my husband, standing against all gratuitous use of the word 'supplanted' and every cheesy attempt at cleverness by entertainment writers." I'd speak in her defense.

For further items about the connection between cheesiness and death, check out the following article about the attack on Roy Horn by one of his own tigers, at this address:

http://www.cnn.com/2003/SHOWBIZ/10/05/roy.attacked/index.html

If you can't access it, allow me to share with you some highlights:

--The article refers to Roy as "the dark-haired member" of the group. I seriously think that it would have been better for the author not to mention that the only way that millions of Americans differentiate between the two is by their hair color. I mean, even Indigo Girl fans describe Amy Ray as "the butcher one" rather than "the brunette." Sheesh.

--Siegfried's last name is Fischbacher. I cannot look at that without thinking it sounds like a great gay porn name. The fact that, after writing it just now, I think someone I know has an anglicized version of that name does. Not. Help.

--Jeffrey Katzenberg was apparently working with the duo on a digitally animated movie about their big cats called "Father of the Pride." In the words of Margaret Cho, that is the gayest thing I have ever heard. I think, no I KNOW that "Father of the Pride: Starring Roy Horn and Siegfried Fischbacher" is gay porn, and not just regular gay porn, but like mustachioed leather-daddy gay porn, and as much as I support that on a political level, I don't need to think about it after I read CNN.com at work.

--There is a picture on there of Roy waltzing with a white tiger, and I own a very fierce, angry cat, and I know that look that this tiger has on its face. It's a look of "as soon as I get out of here and figure out how to feed myself again, I am so coming after you." Seriously, this poor tiger looks humiliated. I feel that they could have chosen a picture that would keep the reader from realizing that this man, for a living, forced some of the most beautiful, dangerous predators on the planet to jump through fire and dance around like apes for their daily side of beef.

For the record, all good energy goes out to Roy Horn and his loved ones in this time, and I find it very commendable that Roy has repeatedly insisted that this is not the fault of the tiger. I completely blame whoever wrote this article for making me laugh so many times.

Of course, when it comes to stupid things I've had to hear over the past 24 hours, none of this compares to what I had to listen to last night. I was at a table, and someone sitting next to me says that classic line, "Not to sound prejudiced or anything, BUTT" and I use the double T there because what is about to come out of the mouth of any person who begins a statement with that proviso is about as appealing as what comes out of any given anus. Said someone then proceeded to say, "Have you noticed that ethnic restaurants tend to have really dirt bathrooms?" And I of course said "No" because I don't find that to be true at all, and if I hadn't been at a party I would have also said, "Have you ever noticed that people who say things like 'I don't mean to offend anybody' don't have the common sense to think before they speak? Weird."

I am going to put my head under my desk now. Pull me out when at least 50.0001% of the population stops saying things that make my brain hurt. This might take a while.

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The End - 2005-02-11
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