Why I hate Emeril Lagasse.

Sorry for my absence of late. I had to take Comparative Law, get rejected by a few more law firms, come down with a wicked case of food poisoning from Balan's indonesian noodles, and start studying for professional responsibility.

I've noticed that quite a lot of blogs seem to be on hold as of this weekend. We're all busy, no doubt.

Anyway. Remember how I love to talk about shows that make me uncomfortable and awkward? Well... the number one on television now that makes me squirm is Cooking Live With Emeril or whatever it's called.

Now, I don't have a problem with Emeril's food, obviously (except his food with seafood or fish in it...yuck.) but I do have a problem with 1) him and 2) his audience.

What I'm noticing as a trend through my shows that I hate, is that I'm pretty sure I hate the American public in general. They're stoopid. (Crap. Of COURSE now it starts thundering...it's waited all weekend when I didn't want to use the computer...and now as I get started the storm hits. Classic.) Call me a sourpuss, but I've always hated watching people "have a good time" in that good ole' clean way. Handclapping and rocking to music at the county fair makes me squeamish, as does the awkward couple dancing to that music...when no one else is dancing...or even when everyone else is dancing at the fair, I'm like "C'mon, guys. You're engaging in group-mentality awkwardness!" You can stand around listening and smiling all you want, just don't start clapping and for g-d's sake, DON'T DANCE...

So I guess that's the foundation to why I hate all these shows, with moronic audience participation. Emeril Live is yet another embodiment of this stupidity.

1) On why I hate Emeril:
From the very top, I hate Emeril's haircut. I don't like his short curly black hair - it reminds me of one of my Aunts' haircuts. Emeril is also sort of built like my Aunt, AND, because they both have very thick Boston accents, he talks like her too. Don't get me wrong - I love my Aunt, it's just sort of gross to see her as a guy. Who cooks.

I do like Emeril's accent. "Fuurst, we'ah gonna make some cahmelized unnyins, with a sowah apple glaze. Ya ceean't (my Aunt would say cahn't, my parents say ceean't and so do I.) have a sowah apple glaze wid'out paw'hk chawps n' stuff't mushrums." Ahhhhhhh... Emeril... tell me we'ah gonna go downta Bickfid's furrahn ice cream and then swing by th' Natick mawll befoah driving ahh cah 'da Hingham to see Uncle Mahkie. Why did I ever allow the hint of Boston I had in my accent to be replaced by upper-Midwest?!

Anyway... his food and his accent are the only things I like about him. Besides the fact that he reminds me of a turtle merged with a warthog, it makes me physically ill to hear him say "Oh, yah, babe." ::shudder:: Is that what he says when he's huffing and grunting on top of some enthusiastic food groupie, while going, "GRRRRRR!" and eating a chicken leg, chicken grease all down his chin and dark meat strands stuck in his chest hair? (Are you grossed out yet?) His repoiroire of catch phrases and oohs and aahs are overly sexual, and if there was one person on television that I do not want to think of in a sexual manner besides that Sue Johansen of the Late-Nite-Canadian-Sex-Chat-Hour, it'd be Emeril Lagasse. Oof. Ghastly.

So I don't like Emeril because he's overly sexual with his food, and is always making banter with Doc Whomever and the Dumbass Emeril Live Band. (On a side note, why is it that all band leaders for television shows, besides Max Weinberg, are grinning idiots, who are unable to do anything but beam, play one instrument annoyingly, and repeat back a word that the host has said, while chuckling? See, Paul Schaeffer, Kevin Eubanks, Doc Whatever.) The band is unnecessary, besides the fact that you're employing people, and I'm all for that. But hide them. We don't need to see them, and we certainly do not need to clap to their entrance and exit music. Okay. So we have his appearance, his way of speaking, and his band that annoy me.

Then, there's his constant mugging for his crowd. Yes. You added gahlic. Yes, you added some cayenne pepper. Great, you added brown sugah. Is it really that great an accomplishment that you have to mug for the camera and encourage the audience to vicariously enjoy the orgasmic thrill that must ripple through your corpulent frame, every time you add a teaspoon full of chipolte (It's pronounced chi-POAT-leh, not Chi-pol-tee! Christ, get it right, you're supposed to be a chef, g-ddammit!!!) powder into your beef stew? You're a dumbass.

When your audience is composed of more reserved people who don't consider adding a spoonful of powder into a bread mix a huge accomplisment, and remain quiet, you get offended, and talk to Doc, who then provides you with some "adding music" or some "sifting music." Get over yourself, dick.

Okay. So I've covered a few of the reasons I hate Emeril. Now to his audience.

2) Why I hate his audience.

Because they're drooling fools. They're the ones who clap at the State Fair hoe-down. They're the ones who believe that creationism should be taught in schools. They hoot n' holler n' raise a ruckus every time Emeril completes the amazing feat of adding a chopped chipolte peppah into a mole sauce or adds another dash of hot sauce into a gumbo. You'd think the man is curing the infirm, instead of making gravy. They stomp and rock and grin like they're being paid to. Now, I don't want to spoil their good time (okay, I do, a little...) and I'm all for clapping and "whoo-ing!" at commercial breaks when the signs flash and say "WHOO!" but it's really distracting to hear Emeril say, "Now, I'm gonna open the oven (WHOOO!!!) and I'm gonna baste (random clapping) the cornish hens (cheering and sparse clapping) with some of the pan drippings (Audience erupts with joy.)"

OOf. Gotta go, storm is coming now. This'll be finished later...