Greg Gutfeld’s not afraid to fight for his woman:
So in today’s New York Times, a paper I enjoy reading while having my problem areas tweezed and sculpted into a topiary, I was shocked to find that Maureen Dowd had mentioned me in her column about Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. She took issue with me calling him a foul-smelling fruitbat – a description I know is factual, since I have confirmation from insiders that he smells, and is a fruitbat. She called my reaction, “small-minded,” and “heavy-handed,” which in my mind means I have both a tiny brain, and big hands. Hey Maureen… you know what they say about men with tiny brains and big hands.
She then uses President Reagan as a shining example of how to deal with our adversaries – an odd thing considering Dowd and her paper always saw Reagan as a big joke. She fails to mention that Reagan managed to scare the pants off the Commies, because they knew he meant business.
How I hate that Dowd and I have gotten off on the wrong foot. I dreamt of the day that she would finally notice me. But instead of calling me up to go hot-tubbing with Frank Rich, she chastizes me for making fun of an Iranian madman. Maureen, what does he have that I don’t? Is it the hair? The Jacket? The desired destruction of the Jews? It’s his degree in traffic management, isn’t it?
I can change Maureen. Don’t write me off just yet. Just tell me what to do. PICK ME, MAUREEN! CHOOSE ME! Mahmoud will chew you up and spit you out. HE’S GOT HOES IN DIFFERENT AREA CODES, MAUREEN! And he treats them so badly. They don’t even get basic cable. Quite frankly Maureen, he’s just not that into you.
BUT I AM. I’ll wait. When he’s done with you, just call me, and I’ll be there. We’ll have margaritas. I’ll even wear the jacket. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. For you.
If only we could get Greg to work his magic charm on Christiane Amanpour as well.