Thank You, No Seriously, I Mean It, Really, Thank You

Media Guy's Puppies-and-Rainbows Show of Love

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I'm not a hateful or bitter person. Honestly. This column is, at its core, about optimism, dear readers -- because why complain about the shortcomings of the media world each week unless you really believe (as I do) that things can and should get better?
Thank you, David Blaine. ALSO: Comment on this column in the 'Your Opinion' box below.
Thank you, David Blaine. ALSO: Comment on this column in the 'Your Opinion' box below. Credit: AP

That said, it's time once again for a puppies-and-rainbows installment of Media Guy, wherein I do nothing but give warm shout-outs and show my love. Because I can be big like that sometimes, yo.

Thank you, David Blaine, for giving up on your underwater breath-holding stunt last week. Because the possible alternative -- a brain-damaged self-promoting stunt street-magician -- would have been too gruesome to endure. (It's hard to imagine a brain-damaged David Blaine's stunts being any dumber than the intact-brained David Blaine's stunts, but still...) Just picture Barbara Walter's "very special" interview with an institutionalized Blaine, speaking in a slow and excruciating monotone. (OK, so Blaine already spoke in a slow and excruciating monotone before this stunt, but still...)

Thank you, MSNBC blowhard Tucker Carlson, for finally giving up the bow tie. Now can you please give up the Peppermint Patty hairdo?

Thank you, Rosie O'Donnell, for agreeing to do "The View." I mean it. I can't wait to see your post-nice, post-cutie-patootie, take-no-prisoners hellcat TV persona. What could be better for daytime TV than an obscenely rich, loudmouth, fearless crank like The Rosienator? With Gayle King set to replace Star Jones Reynolds and Mark Cuban (in drag) set to replace Elisabeth Hasselbeck, this is going to be the Best Show on TV (sorry, "Wonder Showzen"!).

Thank you, AOL, for recently laying off hundreds of "call-center workers whose job was to persuade members not to cancel Internet service subscriptions," as The Washington Post reported. There's no joke here. Seriously: Thank you.

Thank you, Shakira, for your insanely catchy hit single (featuring Wyclef Jean), "Hips Don't Lie." In these uncertain, topsy-turvy times, it's comforting to know that we can get straight answers from at least one source. (Hey, Shakira's hips: How's the war in Iraq really going? Is Rummy going to bomb Iran? Or, rather, when is Rummy going to bomb Iran? And is Anderson Cooper actually gay like Gawker keeps insinuating he is?)

Thank you, Simon Cowell, for monetizing your "American Idol" fame by inflicting only two lame shows on us: ABC's "American Inventor" and NBC's upcoming "America's Got Talent." I know you could have probably also done "American Slut" for Fox or "America's Hairiest Fat Dude" for Spike TV or "America's Cutest Miracle Babies" for Lifetime -- so I really appreciate your restraint.

Speaking of "American Idol," thank you, Paula Abdul, for your dingbat/teary/looney-tunes performance this season. I don't know what you're on, but you gotta hook me up, OK?

Thank you, "Gary Troup" -- of ABC's "Lost" -- for your best-selling novel "Bad Twin" (Hyperion, 2006), which, remarkably, you were able to write despite the twin handicaps of not only not having gone to Harvard, but never actually having ever even existed.

Thank you, Los Angeles radio station KPFK, for your "Name Your Baby Lou Dobbs Challenge," which I predict will be much more successful than your recent "Get Impregnated by Regis Philbin Bake-Off."

You know what? Dispensing all this gratitude and good cheer has felt nowhere near as good as I thought it would. I can't see doing this again anytime soon, so I'm going to jump the gun a bit and knock off a couple future thank-yous in advance, for good measure:

Thank you, Time Warner, for agreeing to sell the remaining assets of Daily Candy to M&M's parent company Masterfoods for $1 and the assumption of $590 million in debt -- only three years after your then-shocking 2006 acquisition of the Web property for $250 million. It's sad, of course, that TW drove the giddy shopping e-newsletter into the ground, but it's great that at least the brand name itself will live on.

Thank you, Suri Cruise, for "Daddy Dearest" (Regan Books, 2024), your brave and unstintingly frank memoir of growing up with a wacko celebrity dad. Warm wishes to you and Blanket Jackson for a long and happy marriage.

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