I must admit, I couldn’t bring myself to tune into last night’s first-ever Food Network Awards. (If you must know, I was way into the double-feature premiere of Tim Minear’s new show Drive, and, my loathing for Nathan Fillion aside, that was some damn good TV.) And, after reading Anthony Bourdain’s awkwardly ellipsed but predictably angry rant on Michael Ruhlman’s blog, I’m convinced I made the right decision.

Check out the Bourdain-y carnage:

The overmuscled fuckwit from DINNER SLIGHTLY DIFFICULT delivered the best line: something like ‘This is the greatest night ever!’ If that was his greatest night ever, I suspect he would say the same thing while being publicly butt-slammed by the San Diego Chicken.


Did the network, upon realizing (as they surely did) that the whole thing was a hideous, stultifyingly boring cluster fuck—and a public slap to their talent—did they consider maybe having the good taste to just bury the whole thing in archives like a rotten bone?

Earlier in the diatribe, Bourdain even makes an odd-for-him admission that rather than being moved to engage in his usual castigation of Rachael Ray, her appearance at the Food Network Awards actually moved him to sympathy (who knew Bourdain even had that emotion in him?):

If nothing else, Rachael’s BIG now. Network talk show— doing- well- in- ratings- Big. Own magazine Big. Friend-of-Oprah Big. So, how must it have felt for her to stand up there in front of what appeared to be a halfway empty room of stunned, near comatose trout and feign enthusiasm while presenting the award for ‘Best Appliance’?

It’s becoming more and more clear that Anthony Bourdain is the food world’s Bill O’Reilly. Let’s give him a show called Bourdain’s Disdain and watch him scream, pound a cutting board, and rip Wolfgang Puck a bright-and-shiny new one for deciding not to serve foie gras in his restaurants any longer.

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