Bryan McFayden is a Very Professional Broadcaster

The first thing that you need to know about this story is that the Toronto Star is wrong about everything. I mean, the Goddamn Liberal Media is wrong about everything, but the Star is even more wrong than most. Which is why they happen to be Canada's largest circulation newspaper.

Secondly, somehow the idea has gotten out there that television celebrity interviewers are supposed to be smart. Celebrities are almost uniformly morons, but the people who make their livings asking them sycophantic questions are supposed to be geniuses. Go figure.

Third, and most importantly, I would really like to fuck Mad Men's Christina Hendricks. And by "really" I mean to say "More than anything I've ever wanted in my life. I only saw Mad Men for the first time a couple of weeks ago and I found myself growing more and more furious that she wasn't in it enough. If that show was nothing more than Christina Hendricks wearing a bra and panties and bouncing up and down on a trampoline for an hour, it would make everything that sucks about television worthwhile.

Some gentlemen will tell you that they're put off by the fact that Christina's head looks too small for what is easily the greatest body off all time, but those aren't gentlemen at all. they're probably pedophiles. Pedophiles who just don't understand that some bodies are just too fantastic to be balanced out by a normal human skull. Kidfuckers tend to like giant skulls on tiny bodies, after all.

In a roundabout way, this brings us to KTLA's Bryan McFayden. Mr. McFayden is the rarest of journalist beasts - a celebrity interviewer that isn't a broad or an overly pronounced homosexualist.

So it seemed natural that he interviewed Ms. Hendricks this morning. Unlike the elitists at the Star, I think it went well.

Brian McFayden, the only man among the four hosts interviewing her, asks Hendricks where she was when she heard about her recent nomination for an Emmy Award.

“I had to be at work really, really early that morning so I was running my bath,” Hendricks starts off. At this point, McFayden can’t be seen. Based on what takes place subsequently, he may have been in the process of fainting.

Hendricks moves on. The three other hosts – young women – get their chance to ask questions.

A minute and 15 seconds later, the inevitable subject of Hendricks’ va-va-voom proportions pops up. And McFayden, unwisely, decides to jump back in.

“I was just going to say that,” he starts excitedly – the first sign of trouble.

“I wasn’t going to be like, oh, I’m hitting on you, but no, you’ve got an amazing body . . .”

Hendricks has presumably been in this awkward spot before. She can see the train wreck approaching, with McFayden wearing the conductor’s cap. She tries to steer him off with a lame joke. He can’t stop himself.

“I’m saying you’re a beautiful woman . . .”

Oh God.

“And like, the bath” – and here the connection between McFayden’s brain and his tongue becomes completely severed – “I mean, um mm, the way you made, and um …”

Nice.

“I’m stumbling on my words,” McFayden says, fanning himself with his notes, while Hendricks watches him sympathetically.

“No, what I’m trying to say is that you were drawing a bath? You were making a bath for yourself?”

The sympathy is draining out of Hendricks’ expression.

“And I was just thinking” – and here, a terrible awareness suffuses the tone of McFayden’s voice. He knows he will never be able to live down what he’s about to say next, but he can’t stop himself – “Wow, that’s awesome.”

This, for one delicious instant, is pure death. Pure, awesome, tape-recorded death.

That isn't death, and the suggestion that it is only proves that Cathal Kelly doesn't know anything about anything, just like most people who spent years in journalism school. If anything, McFayden was as cold a professional as could be expected under the circumstances. People think that interviewing red-haired girls with unnaturally big tits is easy, but it could be the hardest thing a broadcaster can do. That's why you never saw cowards like Cronkite or Murrow doing it.

You watch the clip and tell me otherwise.



I've never been to journalism school, which is why I'd be even better at conducting an interview like this one. If Christina Hendricks was less than three feet away from me and mentioned taking a bath, I'd immediately begin imagining her with clothes (or pubic hair.) And before long I'd be masturbating so furiously that they'd have to clear the studio, lest everyone be drowned in the resulting tidal waves of my goo.

Now you might say that it would be a display of the most dramatic lack or professionalism in the history of broadcasting, and you might be right. But it would also be as romantic as hell. No woman that has seen that has been able to resist it.

So I might lose a career, but I would gain Christina Hendricks.

Waitasecond, this post wasn't supposed to be about me, was it?