A couple of weeks back, I mentioned the self-inflicted wounds threatening to kill the career of hot-but-worthless Philly news anchor Alycia Lane; I'm speaking of her affinity for punching cops, getting arrested, sending half-naked pictures of herself to married men, and just generally turning up in the gossip pages every few days for doing one incredibly fucking stupid thing or another.
Well, as anyone with slightly more common-sense than Alycia -- apparently, anyone at all -- could see coming, she's been canned from KYW; they officially let her go yesterday, the day she was supposed to make her triumphant return to the air. (She'd been on suspension since her arrest last month for allegedly hitting a female New York City cop after calling her a "fucking dyke.")
That little escapade cost her a reported $700,000 a year -- her KYW main-anchor salary.
You know something folks, I usually reserve the truly bitter invective for, ahem, my "Evil Twin, Garth" -- but I think I'll take this one.
The little ones might want to cover their eyes and ears.
You fucking stupid bitch.
My God -- if I were raking in 700-grand a year to sit in front of a goddamned camera for an hour a day and basically look pretty while reading the words put in the teleprompter by an $18,000-a-year writer, I'd tread very fucking lightly.
What I wouldn't do is behave like a spoiled, amoral crack-whore. I wouldn't publicly fuck up two marriages, then e-mail pictures of myself in a bikini to Rich Eisen -- allowing his wife to bust me like a piñata and shame the living shit out of me. I'd keep my fucking head down and do my job -- the one my community supposedly trusts me to do -- and that means avoiding binge drinking with radio host and occasional VH-1 talking monkey Chris Booker which leads me to get into a fight with a fucking New York cop.
Who the fuck do you think you are?
I've made a shitload of mistakes in my life and in my career, but I never -- never -- put myself in a position where I could go from 700-grand to zero overnight.
Still, I doubt that we've heard the last of you. You'll probably move to Hollywood and get a gig on a syndicated gossip show or some crap like that. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the offer to pose for Playboy has already hit your agent's in-box. Or if all else fails, I guaran-damn-tee that WSVN in Miami will happily take you back, now that you've got the kind of salacious and shameless street cred South Florida lives for.
Dumbass.
Hope to see you on the pole.
Oh yeah, and to the news managers at KYW -- suck it.
You got what you deserved.
You hired a fucking mannequin who served no purpose other than to be something hot to look at. I don't care what kind of bullshit somersaults of rationale you did to convince yourselves that there was something going on behind those vacant eyes and that kick-ass body -- something that warranted a vaunted position bringing people the news in a top-ten market -- deep down, you knew the truth. For that, you deserve to have the shit beaten out of you by the ghost of Edward R. Murrow.
And if you didn't know it -- if you were too fucking dumb to see it -- then you don't deserve to be running a news department in the first place.
Fuck you, just fuck you.
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