Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Sherri Shepherd is essentially an idiot and it pays dividends – I think we’ll all agree that that’s the case. Especially after the New York Post has reported that she was eye rollingly crap enough to say this:
"I was sleeping with a lot of guys and had more abortions than I would like to count." Shepherd, a born-again Christian, also thinks Walters, who is Jewish, needs saving. "Oh, sometimes I say, 'Lord, [evangelists] Juanita Bynum or Joyce Meyer would be so good at this table. They could lay hands on Barbara and get her saved.' "
Alright, so granted, the story is probably a few days old seeing as the Post is running it but there’s something classic about getting your celebrity idiot news from the Post. It has an old school snarkiness about it without the “camera up your dress” aesthetic of somewhere like TMZ. Anyway, who cares about that? I’m actually jet lagged and a little ambivalent about this so go with me.
Sherri Shepherd is professionally stupid but maternal and Christian so therefore she’s really just lovable and cute. If you don’t think that you’re cynical and mean.
The thing about this is that Sherri wasn’t the original shit stirrer on The View, Rosie O’Donnell was. She was the one who threw crap at actual people and then did the repartee and it was great. I mean, I got extra cable so I could record it automatically. Sherri is like a stupid, giggling, smiling puppet version of Ann Coulter and at best it's just a low rent copy of Rosie's "Give me my own show" campaign. Well, Ann Coulter is meaner and hotter. Sherri is happier and fatter and more Christian. It’s all the same product though – reactionary selective idiot.
You know, it’s entirely possible that Sherri Shepherd is a genius and she goes home and takes off that wig every day and snarls at the creature she’s created for television. She knows that she mustn’t get too angry at it though because it pays the rent on her enormous apartment on the upper west side so she just kicks the wall a few times before sitting down to watch a Peter Greenaway film with her ten year old son without moving once from her position on a black ponyskin chaise longue by Le Corbusier with the exception of a brief silent break during which she beats her lover half to death with an iron stiletto heel because he asked her to. Then she falls asleep reading Chomsky and Artaud.
When she awakes the stupid head must be screwed on tightly so she can make rent. It’s a cycle. These bitches know what they’re doing.
Incidentally, if Joyce Meyer were on TV any more than she already is my face would bleed off. If my face bleeds off without any immediately evident reason, it’s probably because Joyce Meyer has been syndicated.