an email exchange with my dad

me to dad:
whenever i accidentally catch 5 minutes of rachel ray (most times
i'm aiming for something a little more high brow :) ), i can't help
but think how she's become a shell of her previous bubbly self.
don't get me wrong, this previous version annoyed the hell out
of me, but it was much more palatable then what exists now.
kind of like a cross between a raisin, martha stewart, and a
sopranos character who has a case of that wretched
diane rehm vocal cord disease.
 
it's terrible, especially because every few months that i tune in,
it seems more and more dire.

dad to me:
Receiving this, I feel as though I'm just another of the many
nonpaying subscribers to your blog. Couldn't you have
personalized it a bit--i.e.
Dear Reader??

Yes, I know what you mean--but that's what happens when
you pluck the cheerful deli-counter girl out from behind the
coldcut case and stick her in the corner office with cherry
paneling, expecting her to watch over the
"handlers" (i.e.. leaches) managing the media empire that
bears her name--all while cobbling together a 30-minute
meal.  Then there's the husband?!?!!

Not to worry!--as of 1/1/10 the food channel has lost its
berth on cable in NJ refusing to chop its fees.  Maybe
this fate will befall cable subscribers in MI.