Does Carla Beaurline need plastic surgery for that thin skin?

My goal isn't to bash the would-be celebrities of the Twin Cities, but I'm not going to kiss their ass, either.

If I think somebody is deserving of praise, I'll give it to him or her. If I can't stand somebody who is trying to be a celebrity, and causes me nausea in the process, I'm less apt to spend time writing about how horrible of a human being he or she must be. (I know, I know. I couldn't resist ripping on the Pohlad geniuses for their painful attempt to run a radio station.)

Just because I don't worship the ground Alix Kendall or Paul Lambert walk on doesn't mean I find them loathsome.

I wrote about prissy little Carla Beaurline not so long ago. I wrote about her because I'm amazed, simply amazed, that Beaurline and her band of misfits are running commercials month after month on a glorified cable access channel. (I haven't stumbled across Mike Woodley lately. Should I be searching for an obit?)

I didn't kiss Beaurline's skinny little ass, but I called it like I see it. I'm not impressed by her broadcasting skills. From her crappy banter with the late Mark DeJoy to her school girl voice, I find her to be somewhere outside my list of favorite broadcasters, local or otherwise. I don't hate her, I don't find her painful to listen to, and I don't have perverted thoughts when I see her on the TV screen. (As one of my readers noted in his comment, he gets tingly in the pants when viewing her picture. More power to ya, buddy.)

I noted in a follow up that there was a funny item in the local gossip maven's article about some sort of pettiness between Beaurline and one of her former cohorts at the local shopping channel. You'd think you had been reading a storyline out of "Beverly Hills 90210."

So I posted two columns mentioning the seemingly hard working Beaurline, who loves to glorify vacuum salesmen, and decided to follow her Twitter feed, just to see what kinds of things she writes about now and again. (I use Twitter primarily for access to the brilliance of the local scene, not because I expect to build up a huge Twitter following. But I do tweet links to my blog when I pen something new via @jeffdubayhatesu.)

Beaurline's Twitter feed is so precious that she has it protected. She has to bless you with access to her brilliance. And she did just that for me, for a short time. But she must have read this blog, decided that if somebody isn't going to kiss her ass, she's going to block that person from following her. Yep, she's that vapid.

Not a big deal. Access to her mindless promotion of the suckers who line up to be profiled on her crappy 30-minute commercial isn't high on my wish list. It's kind of funny, really. She wants so desperately to be treated like she's something special, but the suggestion that she's not God's gift to broadcasting is all it takes to set her pouty ass off.

This woman is a joke. Google her for five minutes.

I'm not going to suggest that anyone who competes in any sort of "beauty pageant" is worthless, but Beaurline's early claims to fame include an effort to be pedestalized as some sort of sacred bimbo. She was a north metro beauty queen about 100 years ago. And clearly she'd rather play Barbie Doll and smile for the camera, telling you how wonderful a car dealership is, than do something that has any real value in this world. She flamed out as a celebrity huckster on the local shopping channel and now she's trying to pretend she's still important to the world by boring us to tears with 30-minute commercials for local businesses.

You gotta have thicker skin if you want to make it in this world, honey.

There's a reason your career has been relegated to Ch. 6 for the past 13-14 years.