Rich appears on “The View”
I used to watch a lot of porn in college, so I think it’s safe to say that I know a thing or two about women; lesbians, in particular. Unfortunately, this knowledge didn’t get me very far on my recent appearance on ABC’s “The View.” I don’t know if you’ve heard of this show or not, (I hadn’t) but apparently it is quite popular with the unemployed, and possibly the unemployable. Anyway, when I received the invite to appear, I was skeptical. I hadn’t heard of any of the women who host the program, but at Anselmo’s behest, I accepted. As the date for the appearance approached, however, I began to get nervous. Was I being set up? What should I expect? So I decided to do a little research.
I made a call to a good friend of mine who I like to call “The Donald.” He’s my lawyer Donald Siegelmann and we go way back; all the way to Princeton. He’s my Jewish friend, so he’s my go-to guy for advice on things like medicine, law, jewelry, banking, and the entertainment industry. He had some interesting things to say about the show and its hosts. Apparently, it is a talk show with a sort of “Coffee Klatch” format, hosted by four women, all of whom are lesbians. The boss lesbian is a big lady named Rosie, who has a loud mouth and sits on the left. There is also an old grandmother lesbian named Barbara. Then there is a jewish lesbian named Joy (chosen, I suspect, because of that race’s inherent adeptness at observational comedy), and finally the hot or “lipstick” lesbian, whose name I don’t care about sits on the far right. They sit around and chat about all manner of topics, from tampons to maxi pads, and they also have an interview segment where some important person comes by and they ask him questions. Pretty basic stuff, so when Anselmo dropped me off at the studio that morning, I was confident and relaxed; ready to take advantage of my first TV appearance.
Everything started out pretty nice. I was practicing the new smile that I had been working on (the Edwards) when there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, there was a big black-haired woman wearing what looked to be maternity clothing standing outside the door grimacing at me. She introduced herself as Rosie, and told me that she was very excited to meet me. I reciprocated by telling her that I too was pleased to make her acquaintance, and that I was not the least bit disgusted by her homosexuality, but that I would prefer to not shake hands. Then I excused myself and went back to the mirror for a few last minute tweaks to my technique.
When the show went live, I was hustled off to a place called the “green room,” which was pretty nice, though the only green thing in it was a puke stain in the corner that I later learned was left there by Danny DeVito. I love his work on TV and film, but his vomit was a bit of a disappointment. There was food, but since I only eat Surf ‘N’ Turf, I passed. They did provide a TV, though, which I initially thought would be a source of entertainment, but I soon found that there was no way to change the channel on it. I poked my head out the door and asked a crew member how I could get CNBC on this biatch, but he just said it was “closed circuit,” or some such nonsense. I managed to take care of that one pretty quickly, though, since to open the circuit, all you have to do is unplug the damn thing. Then I sat back and flipped through a copy of People magazine while I waited for my cue.
About 20 minutes later, the stage-hand comes in with all sorts of attitude, telling me that I missed my cue and that I need to get out there in a hurry. I told dude to chill and then walked out on the stage to some reasonable applause. The only available seat was in the middle of the four ladies, and so I sat down there and immediately felt extremely vulnerable. It is very disconcerting to be surrounded by lesbians, knowing that if you are looking at one of them, there are others that you can’t see that could be making out with each other. They welcomed me warmly, though, and started asking questions. I don’t remember precisely what they asked, mainly issues related stuff. I played it pretty cool, talking slowly so they could understand, telling them how nice their hair and outfits looked, asking them what kinds of things they would like to cook for me. You know, just being charming and conversational. I thought it was going pretty well.
Then everything went to Shitsville. Rosie asked me a question about my views on Gay Marriage. Now I had been preparing for this one, so I had my answer pretty much planned out. “Gay Marriage,” I said, “is a great idea, because by allowing them to pair off and sequester themselves, we could ensure that none of the gays could reproduce, thereby preventing the passing on to the next generation the gay-genes that make them want to do it with people of their same sex.” This was, in my opinion, a very well thought-out and irrefutably logical answer. I found out very shortly that I was wrong.
Rosie opened her mouth and I suddenly got very bored. She seemed to be saying lots of things, but I couldn’t understand any of it. Perhaps she was speaking a language I don’t know, or maybe her voice was of a pitch that my ears are not sensitive to. Either way, I eventually turned the other direction to talk with Barbara. You see, I’ve always had a thing for girls with speech impediments. I know it sounds crazy but I think everyone has a turn-on that they can’t explain. In this case, however, the explanation is known to me. I was molested by my favorite babysitter when I was young, and she had something wrong with her palate. When she talked, it always sounded like she had a tablespoon of peanut butter in the roof of her mouth. Anyway, I knew Barbara was gay, but I couldn’t resist, so I tried to lay on the charm.
I wasn’t having much luck with Barbara. She seemed distracted by something, so I looked back over my shoulder and saw Rosie, her mouth still moving furiously. I knew I could never get a word in with Barbara with Rosie doing that so finally I said “hey, could you keep quiet?” Evidently she could not, because she threw her two-quart coffee mug in my direction. Luckily, I do Pilates, so I was able to easily avoid the mug (plus, girls can’t throw, even if they think they are men), and it hit Ms. Behar in the bosom, sending scalding coffee spraying into her face.
At this point, you might say “wow, Rich, that is truly a situation that cannot be repaired.” But Rich White doesn’t give up that easily. There, amidst the chaos, I thought of faithful Anselmo. He would want me to summon every ounce of gumption available to me and salvage that interview, so that is what I resolved to do. Unfortunately at this point, recovery was no longer an option. Behar had been taken off the stage by paramedics, Barbara had given up and stomped off to her dressing room, and Rosie had savagely bitten a Security Guard’s hand and was being tazed repeatedly. Not knowing what to do, I stood up and walked out of the studio to the curb. Anselmo drove up a few minutes later, and we went and got ice cream. It was a pretty good day.