DanMargarita.com

Since when does being a popular chef qualify you to star in a sitcom? Julia Child never got her own sitcom, which I'd like to see. How about "Everybody Loves Julia" for a title? Can you imagine her in a situation like Lucille Ball, attempting to put frosting on cakes as they come down the conveyor belt, only to have the belt speed up, leading her to make a mess of the whole thing? Now that's comedy.

So where am I going with all of this? I haven't a clue. Just kidding. Emeril comes to mind because on one of the all news channels, I saw a clip of actor Burt Reynolds on the Emeril show challenging terrorist Osama bin Laden with the line, "Osama bin Laden can kiss my ass!"

This was similar to a challenge made by a firefighter, the brother of another firefighter lost in the World Trade Center attack, during the recent benefit concert at Madison Square Garden. Somehow it seemed a little more threatening coming from the firefighter. Perhaps if Clint Eastwood had made the threat, Osama bin Laden might have reason to be nervous, but Burt Reynolds? It would hardly have been more threatening if Reynolds vowed to bring his good friend Dom Deluise with him over to Afghanistan to pummel bin Laden.

It is reputed that for all his talk of living the sixth century life of the prophet Mohammed, bin Laden hypocritically has no qualms about using such modern technologies as computers and satellite dishes in his cave. That said, what makes Reynolds think that if bin Laden does receive American TV signals, that he watches The Food Network? A man who lives in a cave, conducting world wide terrorist operations probably doesn't spend a lot of time watching cooking shows, especially if his diet consists primarily of bread baked over a couple of rocks. He'd just be torturing himself.

From what I hear, Reynolds is also a good friend of Charles Nelson Reilly. Boy, if Paul Lynde were still alive the four of them could have made one hell of an elite Special Operations force.

I understand that Reynolds is mad. I'm mad. We're all mad. However, directing blistering insults from a cable TV cooking show is not likely to strike fear in the hearts of homicidal maniacs who are located 15,000 miles away.

Of course I could be wrong. At this very minute bin Laden could be hiding under a blanket in his cave, trembling at the thought of an aging Hollywood actor with a toupee coming to duke it out.

Perhaps Mr. Reynolds would be willing to be transported into Taliban territory where he can tell bin Laden his message in person. Better yet, he can bore bin Laden to death by sending him copies of Cannonball Run II.