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Thursday, February 12, 2004

Letters (from)
Dear Food Network

Food Network
1180 Sixth Avenue
New York, NY 10036
Attn: Consumer Relations Department

February 12, 2004

Dear Food Network,

On February 8, 2004, after watching Bobby Flay and portly gentleman strap the feedbag onto a rather hungry group of fireman on “Boy Meets Grill,” I got up to make myself a sandwich (tuna salad) and pour myself a tall glass of soda (Sierra Mist!). When I had returned to the couch, I noticed that the new Food Network program involved a cook-off of some kind. Being a fan of your network, and being the sort of individual who respects and enjoys the spirit of friendly competition, I kept my hands off the dial. As an aside, this is a horribly outdated phrase. What kind of moron would buy a television with a dial with all of the remarkable advances in remote-control technology? I can change the channel on my set from another room, for crying out loud!

Anyway, it turned out that the competition was a Dutch Oven Cook-off! Dutch Oven! Don’t you see, Food Network? You have the supreme high commander of the F.C.C. making waves about the murky, half-second-long shot of an almost visible nipple during the Super Bowl, but he lets this kind of language on television go by with impunity. Am I the only one in this fading Republic that still knows what a Dutch oven is, Food Network? For the record, a Dutch oven is when you fart under the blankets a few times and then lift them for an unsuspecting visitor, thereby releasing all of the collected odor and warmth that had been gathering.

It seems that some people are using this gastric energy to fuel a cook-off. Is this some kind of sick joke, Food Network, using the foul anal emissions of human beings to power the boiling of water? If this is the case, I am not amused. It’s not like you let the allusion slide either. Your foul-mouthed announcers only kept repeating the term with such clever phrases as “This is where the Dutch-oven cookers show their skill,” and “The judges are going to sidle up to the Dutch-oven buffet,” which, for your information, doesn’t sound the least bit appetizing to me.

I was always under the impression that the Food Network was a nice family network, one where I could sit my children down and learn how to prepare tasty delicacies of the Far East. Due to the horribly offensive nature of this show, I may even have to call into question whether your “Iron Chef” translations are accurate. You may all be yukking it up in the office while my kid is hearing some Japanese pervert scream about his genitals or something. This may be the kind of thing you find funny, but I assure you, we are not laughing.

I thank you for you attention to this matter and I look forward to hearing from you.

Geoff Wolinetz

Geoff Wolinetz cannot be found on IMDb because the Hollywood community refuses to acknowledge the production of his seminal masterpiece Come What May, a gritty psychothriller starring a guy who kind of looks like Billy Baldwin and Erin Gray (formerly of "Silver Spoons"). If he were to be found on IMDb, his name would fall between "Geoff Witcher" and "Geoff Wood." In addition to his imaginary film career, Geoff also maintains an imaginary career as a baron of industry, is lead singer of the imaginary band Kick Ass, Falco, holds an imaginary Olympic gold medal and is an imaginary Pulitzer laureate in the field of journalism for his investigative piece on the albinos of Alaska.