The Reg-O-Meter© - week ending April 19

Our weekly anal probing of the Orange County Register continues...

MONDAY, APRIL 14: ● Not that we’re in the habit of making fun of old people, but strangely, 70-year-old columnist Jane Glenn Haas sure is. Haas, whose beat is chiefly comprised of the same curmudgeonly senior citizens who pen crazed, delusional Letters to the Reggie Editor, spends her space in today’s paper whining about people who tell old-people jokes—and then, to get her point across, she tells a couple of them (neither of them very funny, but not because they’re offensive or anything, they’re just not funny—one is a crack from was-he-ever-funny? Jay Leno. Hey, Jane—you forgot to include the one about tits so saggy that they look like a pair of fried eggs nailed to a wall. Thing here is, Jane should knock off the finger-wagging—she has no problem with elders like her, so long as they don’t go around looking like old people, considering that she penned several columns last year that were all about her facelifts and plastic surgery procedures—y’know, that thing people usually do when they’re in total denial about getting old.

TUESDAY, APRIL 15 ● Who’s that little girl pictured at the bottom of the Reggie’s front page today? Oh, wait, that’s just the very little-girl-looking Reg reporter Greg Hardesty as an 11-year-old (boy, we assume). Hardesty pens a story all about his youthful crush on Little House on the Prairie actress Melissa Sue Anderson, something Reg readers are supposed to think is cute. The Reg-O-Meter’s verdict? Torn between GAY and STALKER.

THURSDAY, APRIL 17: ● It’s a small brief in the Life section, a section almost always filled with fluff and insignificance. But the headline just makes the whole of the Reggie seem even more so: "MARTHA STEWART’S DOG DIES OF KIDNEY FAILURE."

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● The Reggie’s real coup-of-the-day is getting Club Amnesty shut down, and you can read more about that right here. We’ve said our peace for now, but we couldn’t help but wonder why the Reggie and its triple-threat team of crack reporters Eugene W. Fields, Doug Irving and Joshua Sudock aren’t doing the obvious follow-up by personally visiting every single massage parlor that advertises in the Reggie’s sports pages? We’ll even help you kids out by handing you some freebie questions. Like, don’t you think that the one in Costa Mesa that advertises AMERICAN GIRLS ONLY is being a tad discriminatory and racist in its advertising practices? And what, exactly, goes on in those “cozy private rooms” with the “pretty Asian masseuses” at that one in San Clemente? Get to work--it’s a Pulitzer waiting to happen! (This just in! OC Weekly uncovers steamy sex scandal in the Reggie’s Grand Avenue mausoleum! But you’ll have to wait till Thursday’s Weekly to find out the dirt.)

FRIDAY, APRIL 18: ● The quarter-page house ad in the news pages plugging the Reggie’s cat photo contest—oh-so-creatively dubbed That Darn Cat!—has inspired us to have a contest of our own. We'll call it That Darn Pussy! Loyal Weekly readers: Is your pussy a simpering Saavedra, a despicable Dillow or a milquetoast Mickadeit? Send us your photos! On second thought, don’t. We have better things to do ‘round here, like real journalism and stories that don’t kowtow to the lowest common Reggie reader denominator.

● Club Amnesty addendum in today’s ish: Swingers clubs don’t bother nearly half of more than 2,300 voters who weighed in on a Reggie online poll. See, even uptight Reggie loyalists think screwing between consenting adults behind closed doors is a God-given right, and even more people said the existence of a swingers club is none of their goddamn business. So by hopping into bed with governmental bodies, the Reggie only succeeded in pissing off its readership. Great work!

● Leave it to the hyper-hypocritical Reggie to publish a six-page special ad insert in today’s issue about . . . Earth Day! “The Earth is precious, perishable and the future is in our hands!” the ad copy declares. Yet to be determined are how many trees died to produce this—hey, Eugene W. Fields, Doug Irving and Joshua Sudock need something else to do . . .


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