Deen of Fat Bitches


by James Killough

I don’t watch non-scripted TV anywhere near as much as Tuttle does, but when I’m rained into some hotel in Bumfuck, Florida with a rewrite staring and pouting at me from lack of attention, I will turn to the Food Network and watch just about every show, even Iron Chef in Japanese.  Anything not to write.  It’s also because like to cook, usually extremely spicy Asian food, or at the very least chow that’s packed with flavor.

If he stays in acting, Horn—the young star of "Extremely Loud..."—might have the same career trajectory as Christian Bale's after "Empire of the Sun."

I said “just about every show” because when that noxious Southern fat bitch Paula Deen comes on, I switch it off and actually start to scribble.  The crap she concocts makes my eyebrows knit together in a toupee across my bald pate.  It really is no wonder No Reservations host Anthony Bourdain calls her “the worst, most dangerous person in America.”  This is because she does things like tell an obese nation that it’s okay to eat cheesecake for breakfast.  What a hick.

The State Of Our Union Address


by James Killough

My Fellow Denizens of the Blogosphere —

Lest we ever give up, the Rigging Miss India post finally seems to be having some impact via an Indian beauty pageant forum called  It would appear that the pageant organizers themselves are commenting; there are some very well informed opinions floating around on that particular thread.  For instance, someone mentions how the 1993 pageant didn’t have computer tabulations of the judges’ votes, despite the fact there were computers on site; they conveniently went down just before the show.  I’ve heard that excuse before, with the exact word ‘tabulations’… when was that?  Oh, right.  When I hosted the 1993 Miss India Pageant.

Still one of the most beautiful women in the world, Aishwarya Rai was only the second runner-up in the Miss India Pageant the year after I hosted it. Why she wasn't the outright winner for the whole decade is another question for the Times of India. She laughed all the way to the bank with that L'Oréal contract, though.

Guys, as you well know, we were there for over four hours taping that show.  There was plenty of time to count the votes of a few judges accurately by hand.  Just as there was enough time for the judges to write me notes about who the real winners were.  What you did was not only wrong, it was sloppy; I’m still carrying a grudge that I was sent out on that painted plywood peacock stage in front of a billion people without a rehearsal.