Nancy Grace? Heck, I can’t stomach any cable news channel any more. They seem to all be going the MTV route where they used to have programming related to their name, but not any more. It’s all some host screaming at someone else.
Nancy Grace is an idiot though. The worst part is that she’s on every screen at the gym where I work out at night. I have to force myself to look away and not pay any attention.
I understand Time-Warner’s desire to make more money by having not one but two channels of yammering blowhards, and that there are a finite number of analog channels on the average cable system. But why the FUCK did they have to take away the only channel where busy people can get 30 minutes of news. And they have to taunt us by keeping the name “Headline News” when it clearly is no longer the same beast.
Actually, I think the joke was that she shut up about it after they were cleared, never owning up to her accusations. If I recall, the night after they were cleared, there was a guest host on her show.
I love Nancy Grace. I agree with her on practically nothing and think she’s a spaz and a crazy person and I’m sick of all of the people who call into her show kissing her ass and “Oh, I love your show!” and talking about her babies and stuff (watch her sometime; I think she’s sick of it too) but I think she’s excellent. I love it when she freaks out and starts very pointedly calling her guests by their full names and when she cuts them off. Or when she disagrees with somebody and says things like “I used to respect your opinion” with every syllable dripping with sarcasm and disdain.
I’ve lived in the south for 41 years and I’ve heard every southern accent there is just about, but there is just something… a ‘je ne sais whaaaatt?’ about her particular blend of accent/pitch/expression/phrasing/etc. that damned near gives me a seizure. Whether it’s the bovine eyes, the mouth that remains open in the rare moments when she stops speaking, or the stupidity that oozes from her every sound like flaming pus and curdled milk from a demon’s teat, or the logical gaps that would make Corky from Life Goes On say “Bitch please”, or the knowledge of her lies about her dead boyfriend and many other subjects that would make me retire to a convent in Bangladesh if I was exposed in something as sinister, she is sickening to me.
And yet I can’t look away when I catch her while changing channels. She captures me in a spell. She’s a lobotomized Siren with a siren song that wouldn’t have passed muster on the Hee-Haw All Jug Band, but captivating nonetheless.