There he was, Anderson Cooper, the bland white guy from CNN, who aspires to become the next Oprah Winfrey.
Who’s Anderson Cooper, you may ask?
He’s the news version of Ryan Seacrest. He’s everywhere.
He’s been roughed up in Libya, had his hair fluffed by Hurricane Katrina, hosted Regis and Kelly when Regis was having one of his many operations. Anderson has covered every waterfront, some of them not pretty.
So now, in his spare time, AC will be hosting a daytime chat show hoping to topple Oz, Phil and the other doctors.
CTV is banking on his sex appeal.
The network is hoping women will not just tune in, but they’ll pine for him, fantasize about him, and want to muss his perfect hair.
Anderson, Anderson, please tell us what’s happening in the world. Anderson, Anderson, tell me about food that’s good for me.
Anderson, Anderson, let me be your favorite thing.
Anderson Cooper has about as much sex appeal as Stephen Harper. He has the charisma of a smoked meat sandwich.
I want my four o’clock to be all bouncy and fun. I want my four o’clock to distract me from the woes of my daily life.
I want my four o’clock to be, well, Merv Griffin.
Remember the old days when the afternoon was filled to the brim with men who could either tell jokes or sing and tap dance?
John Davidson, Mike Douglas, even Dick Cavett gave it a go. Our midday fellers came from show business and had all the celebrities on.
They had the characters, too. Like Zsa, Zsa and Eva Gabor.
The fact that Anderson comes from news is worrying.
Hey, if I wanted CNN, with all its gloom and doom, I’d have turned my channel to 31!
I want to escape my housework with a little afternoon delight, a little froth, a little fun. I don’t want the guy equivalent of Lisa Ling.
Don’t tell me about twisters and hurricanes, tell me about pumps, and the newest bra. Show me a big celebrity or two.
Even Phil Donahue had a fun side.