Conspiracy Theory

I have been persnickety about Rachael Ray in the past. Since my blog is supposed to focus on my emotional connection with food, not my visceral dislike of the frog-voiced, jarringly perky Ms Ray, I promised myself I'd stop. After all, just because she makes Up With People look like a Mennonite funeral doesn't mean she's evil.

Or is she?

I've come to believe that her new daytime show isn't about helping soccer mom's get meals on the table in record time. Instead, I'm forced to conclude it's nothing more than an elaborate and cruel joke. If I'm right, waning celebrities won't find themselves written out of scripts or turned down for roles. Instead, if your celebrity status is in the toilet, your agent will book you on the Rachael Ray show, hand you a bottle of wine and let you figure out your career's got the shelf life of spinach while you cook your own last meal - on air.

My proof? Last week, Rachael was perkifying a dish with -- Dennis Miller. The man whose career was built on sour-grapes cynicism was wearing an apron, cracking lame jokes and pouring wine into what, at one point, might have been chili. More wine went into Mr. Miller than the sauce pot, but I can hardly blame him. He's become what he once mocked on Saturday Night Live skits - a celebrity guest on a daytime TV cooking show, helping harried house wives get through their day. My guess is that in five years we'll be saying "Dennis, who?"

But perhaps it's not all bad. Good might still come of this. If a guest spot on Ms. Ray's show is the death knell for TV personalities, could this finally mean the end of Dr Phil?