Glenn Beck Needs Luv

Rarely (and by "rarely," I mean "once a week") do I refute an argument by saying "Dude, you really need to get laid," but in the case of Glenn Beck, such ad hominem argments are not without merit.

He's entitled to his opinions. If he wants to advocate the assassination of Michael Moore--hey, it's a free country and the First Amendment...oh, wait. Let me amend this. He can say what he wants to get ratings. I'm just sayin'--the cat needs some trim.

I watched quite a bit of Glenn Beck's program while in Florida, in 5-20 second increments while hitting the clickah from one channel to the next (I don't have cable in my own home) in a fruitless search for anything decent to watch, and what was immediately apparent was how his interviews were like an endless series of bad blind dates.

You imagine Glenn behaving this way over dinner with an unsuspecting woman (or a helpless sheep). Eating off of her/its plate, talking with his mouth full while raving about our republican form of government, Cindy Sheehan, and Al Sharpton's hair. The woman politely disagrees; the sheep baas a civil negatory; Glenn laughs mockingly. Another carafe of Bud Light is served. More one-sided raving. A desperation in the tone, tinged with that annoying whine everyone anywhere develops in their larynx when they argue politics and religion. The woman looks at her watch; the sheep yawns. They go halfsies on the bill; the woman insists; the sheep runs into the kitchen, puts its head on the chopping block and begs to die.

Glenn goes home. Alone again, naturally. He puts an Anita Bryant record on the turntable and masturbates to the cover of Ann Coulter's "How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must)." A lonely drop of semen falls on Coulter's adam's apple, mixed with one tear, then two tears, then a deluge of uncontrollable weeping.

"I can't even get a sheep to fuck me!" Glenn blubbers, sniffles, and wails. "It's the fault of atheist Ivy League professors, activist judges, environmentalists, Susan Sarandon, lesbian folksingers, one billion Muslims, and the entire city of San Francisco!" He continues weeping like an emasculated Champaign, Illinois indie-rocker with a broken four-track until falling asleep in a fit of convulsive sorrowful shudders.

But I digress. I certainly don't mean to suggest that Glenn Beck is into bestiality, and I apologize if I gave off that impression. If I had to guess, I'd say "Probably not." I'm sure the 12 geniuses who comprise the Matthews Meter would also vote "No" on this question 12-0. Even Eleanor Clift. Forget about the sheep. All I'm suggesting here is that maybe if somebody gives Glenn Beck some sexual healing, he might relax, and we'll have, you know, civil discourse.

(Sidenote: I have one other thought about Glenn Beck. We now have TV's made of plasma and mirrors, gigantically detailed with surround sound and high definition. Considering the undeniable fact that 98% of what is on television is total and complete crap from top to bottom, do we really need this technology? Does Glenn Beck, Nancy Grace, Greta Van Susteren, Ryan Seacrest, John Gibson, televangelists, "Gilmore Girls" and so on and so forth deserve this level of visual and aural hyper-clarity? With the exceptions of football and "Six Feet Under," does anything?)