Attack of the Ray Rays

I had to laugh at this Hollywood Reporter review of the new Rachael Ray talk show...

Rachael Ray Show" Potentially Annoying

My only quibble? The use of the word “potentially”. There’s no potential about it. But I’ll digress for now. Here’s some of the reviewer’s comments:

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LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - Carefully tailored to service the soccer mom crowd racing between work and kids and shopping, "The Rachael Ray Show" is a syndicated daytime talk show-cum-pep rally targeting viewers who are double-parked.

It moves along in energetic rat-a-tat-tat style via a series of manic Rachael McNuggets that casts Oprah's very own handpicked youngster as a whirlwind of hyperkinetic charisma. Indeed, the opening hour depicts the former host of Food Network's wildly popular "30-Minute Meals" as a woman in need of Ritalin to slow it down, modulate her pitch and try a little less hard. Ray has an inherent likability and is certainly easy on the eyes, but she doesn't talk to us so much as screams and she might want to consider taking a more leisurely approach. As it is, it's all she can do to keep from using the adoring audience as her mosh pit.

Breaking from the gate, she skirts the fine line between endearing and annoying and could tip either way.

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Funny stuff.

I’m sorry, but I’m not a Rachael Ray fan at all. I’ve spent far too many hours of my life watching Food TV, but I try to avoid her obnoxious self as much as humanly possible. I‘ve always found her attitude to be condescending, her spirit artificial, and her believability/sincerity factor about the same level as Richard Nixon crossed with a used car dealer.

Let’s face it – ‘Ray Ray’ bugs the ‘Snot Snot’ out of me.

But I know I’m not her target audience – she’s patronizing the 30-something minivan Supermom who can not only work full time, but somehow manages to drive the kids to soccer practice, indulge in a mani/pedi, and create a sumptuous 5-course meal, all in the time it’d take for a blended iced double-shot mocha. She’s the woman who gives birth of a Tuesday and runs a marathon on Thursday. She’s the kind of lady who has the time and energy to keep up with Ray Ray’s warp speed.

In other words, it ain’t me. (Besides the fact I’m packing a Y chromosome, that is.) I’m the kind of guy who (usually) takes the slower road. I can’t whip up a miracle supper in between commercial breaks, unless it’s to pick up the phone and order a pizza. I have no desire to run through an entire day in a strange town spending $40 on food and beer (all without leaving a tip). And I refuse to use dumb phrases like “EVOO” when describing something as mundane as friggin’ olive oil.

So sorry, Rach. I won’t be joining in on your 78-RPM party anytime soon. I just don’t think I could keep up without my head exploding in 30 minutes or less.

Potentially annoying. Sheesh.