4/30/2008

Gregory, Stossel, Rivera or Carlson

Gawker ran a thing on David Gregory yesterday. The title of it ended in a question mark, basically asking, you, the reader to decide if he was a "Jerk?" I've never met the man, but yes, he is a jerk.

It led me to thinking of other male TV news jerks. Sam Donaldson is probably A-1. O'Reilly, sure. I once met Andy Rooney and his late wife in Battery Park City. They were getting out of their own cream colored Lexus SUV. She petted my dogs. He looked grumpy, confused and bewildered then warmed up because, you know, dogs.

I want to talk about real assholes though. And what would happen if you were stranded on a tropical island with only a volleyball, a Sharpie, and a TV news guy.

Geraldo, I'm certain, would try to be really tough for like the first 90 minutes. Breaking tree branches. Lighting fires. Making huts (or trying to at least). Seeing ships that weren't really there. Trying to sexually assault crocodiles. Then he would break down and have a huge cry. He'd spill the beans. Overshare. You'd pretty much have to carry him until you both starved to death, or you simply drowned yourself because he was so damn crazy. If you lived and he died though, his thighs, sauteed in kelp, might prove delicious if you've eaten nothing but sand and seagull feathers for 45 days.

David Gregory would insist being stranded was all your fault in the first place. He'd make a weird headband from an old dress shirt. Go jogging. Then start asking about what Presidents you've met. "Come on," he'd say. "Has to be at least one, right?" You'd say no. Meekly. Then he'd say "What was your GPA in college?" And spend the whole time undermining you. And being his typically douchey prematurely gray self. If he dies, after writing some bad poetry on a cave wall with a rock, he's too pasty to cannibalize.

Stossel would whine. Throw tirades. "Are you actually trying to *sleep* right now? Whenever I've heard about people on desert islands, they weren't concerned with *sleeping*." He would eventually complain of (hundreds of) phantom tick bites, scratch his limbs violently and dig a small pit on the beach in which he would lie and then eventually die of severe facial sunburn. He is way too skinny to eat. You'd give him a proper funeral though, burying him with the coconut that he pretended was his Blackberry, and the palm frond that served as his porn. (don't ask).

Tucker Carlson, of course, would die within the first five minutes. Anyone, age 1-97, would kill him. There would be no way to survive if you were partnered with him. This is just basic human instinct. You would not eat his corpse, though.

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