Food Network: Who Do I Hate Today?

Because you didn’t ask and never will, here’s my rundown on the various personalities featured on the Food Network.

Although I find him scary-looking, Mario Batali seems like one of the few Food Network personalities that might actually be a nice guy in person. Aren’t there doctors that can help with that sweat problem?

Rachel Ray is pure evil. I will grant, however, that she models some really good habits to help novice cooks avoid common pitfalls (Gather your ingredients before you start cooking, time management, stuff like that) She’s still an horrible harpy, though, and she will die alone.

Tyler Florence needs to stick it in immediately, because he is a fucking stud. His style of cooking is very near to mine, which is reason #6,428 why he and I should get married. Tomorrow.

As much as I try to hate Alton Brown, I am a total kitchen-science nerd, and some of his episodes have been really informative. I love Shirley Corriher’s books for the same reason. Alton’s enthusiasm for gimmicky plastic kitchen gadgetry and his horkishly forced “zaniness” make me nauseous. But I still watch.

Bobby Flay is everything I hate about straight guys, all wadded up and compressed into one small and extremely annoying white man. He is such a fuck-tard, and I would pick a fight with him with a quickness. Also, all he does is grill. I am a native of Texas, so unless you’re like grilling yeti filet over heated moon rocks, you won’t impress me by grilling.

I have deeply conflicted feelings about Ina Garten. She’s the kind of person I could be friends with…if she didn’t so obviously dwell in a completely different socioeconomic universe. Also, her “simple chic” occasionally slides into just plain “simple”.

The Iron Chefs are all gods astride this world of mere mortals. I worship and adore them, because you know you have a pretty hefty pair to serve up some of that shit with a straight face. Carp ice cream? Why yes, I’ll have two scoops!

Sara Moulton. Dullest. Person. Ever.

I’m emailing Jaime Oliver right now to invite him to join Tyler Florence and me for some hot man-on-man-on-man action.

Bobby Rivers and Sandra Pinckney were decanted from the same cloning vat. They were genetically engineered to hawk tacky commercial shit in the most bland and inoffensive manner possible.

Marc Summers is the white version of Bobby Rivers, with a dash of that Al Roker “zing” added for good measure. He always looks like his makeup is melting off, and his smile betrays his fear of death. He creeps me out in a major way. Unless he marries Rachel Ray, they will both die alone. Also, his show “Unwrapped” is a shameless apologia for all of the corporate, mass-produced, unhealthy low-quality factory food to which almost every single one of the Food Network chefs are vocally opposed. But Marc will show you that mass-produced industrial food is just good, clean fun.

I totally heart Paula Deen. I know she probably seems hokey and trashy to non-southerners, but she strikes me as genuine, and I like her self-effacing style. She’s like Ina Garten with the stick pulled out of her ass.

When Al Roker dies, he will go straight to hell, where he will be made to pay far out the ass for his many, many sins.

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