Like any number of you, possums, we stared at the television with equal parts incredulity and anticipation during Howie Kleinberg's contradictory, misogynist tirades. We waited eagerly to see whether his head would explode or spin off his neck of its own accord.
Of course, Ms. XaXa, being more of a pragmatist, put our mind at ease, "Oh, I wouldn't worry. There's no neck for it to fly off from."
However safe we might have been from a spinning head, though, we did think it was a serious possibility that at some point Howie would lose the power of human speech, an ability he appears to have acquired with great difficulty, and simply start barking. Sara Mair was right to call him "bulldoggish." Indeed, in our mind's eye he sports a turtleneck and a newsboy cap, like that bulldog in the Warner Bros. cartoons followed by the little dog who just wants to be his friend.
Playing armchair psychologist is a lot easier when, like us, you have a nice leather club chair. And retire to it we did, to ponder the source of the Bear Bulldog's rage.
To mind came a January 18, 2007, AventuraUSA.com article we had come across before, which had the following tidbit:
"Kleinberg grew up in an apartment inside the Waterways Shoppes and attended a private prep school in Maine. It was the kind of institution designed for kids with less-than-spectacular academic track-records.
He excelled on the field of play, but when he tapped out at 5-foot-6, he knew he’d better find another way to make a living."
As Miss XaXa put it, "Was that when he found out that yes, the NBA would take him, but as a basketball and not as a basketball player?"
We cautioned Miss XaXa, "Are you sure you want to say things like that? What if he wants to find you and yell at you about how he'd never hire you to wash dishes in his restaurant? Is that really what you want?"
We were amused, though, at the contrast between Howie's statement on Wednesday's show that "I’m a little bit more of an academic in a lot of ways; I’m a thinker," and his having had to attend a prep school "for kids with less-than-spectacular academic track-records."
The article also informs us that "Kleinberg’s ambition was to coach. Football or wrestling or lacrosse; they were all passions. But without a teaching degree, he found it impossible to secure a job."
Most interesting, we learned about his philosophy about working with other people: "A lot of what’s required to be a great chef comes down to leadership, and that goes back to the lessons I learned from sports. I’ll always give [subordinates] a kick in the ass and then a bear-hug. Never one or the other. Always both."
First of all, see? We told you he was a bear. However, we didn't get to see the bear-hug he gave Sara Mair. Perhaps the editors simply didn't show us? Or perhaps all his bear-hugs are reserved for Joey, because, you know, girls have cooties and stuff, and they're only good for writing out your menu 'cause they have pretty handwriting and stuff, and that's how girls should be, you know, helpful, doing girl things, and not contradicting you and stuff.
Truth be told, though, it's the misogyny that puzzles us the most, since, as his Bravo bio says, "Due to his father's early death, Howie was raised by only women and has no problem communicating his feelings." Howie, Howie, Howie, didn't your momma teach you better?
