Miss Pop Rocks doesn’t understand a lot, she’ll be the first to admit. But tonight, on her blog, she’ll let you know about something she really doesn’t understand. Andy Rooney.
(Now imagine my voice, all whiny like, punctuated by strange pauses. Okay, now read on.)
You know what I don’t get?
Oh, I understand what he’s supposed to be doing. I understand he’s supposed to be a humorist and commentator on the television show “60 Minutes.” And I understand he’s been doing this gig since I was three years old.
Only thing is…he’s not funny.
(Pause for effect.)
Andy Rooney’s got big old eyebrows. And he talks about unoriginal things like buttons and advertising circulars and last names. He talks about them in a whiny voice, and he throws a supposedly pithy comment or two around, and then he pauses.
He pauses a lot.
(Pause for effect once more.)
The thing about Andy is, I don’t know who finds him funny. I don’t know if anyone ever has. As a girl, when my parents watched “60 Minutes,” they’d roll their eyes at Andy when he turned up on the screen at the end of every episode. Sometimes, they’d just turn the television off, or they’d flip the channel. Now, when my husband and I watch “60 Minutes,” we do the same thing.
What does that tell you?
I’ve got nothing against old people, even though it should be said that Andy Rooney’s a bajillion years old, and there’s a part of me that’s afraid he’s going to bite it while sitting at that big, stupid desk where he delivers all his “jokes.” No, what I’m against is “60 Minutes” not pulling the plug on this tired routine once and for all.
Because I hate Andy Rooney.
(Seriously long pause to let you know I mean it.)
I mean, I just can’t stand him.
(Quick little mini pause.)
You know what I mean?
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick…. -- Jennifer Mathieu