Did anybody catch The View yesterday (Monday)? Barbara Walters returned to a fucking festival in her honor. In case you haven’t heard, Barbara Walters got the chicken pox a few weeks ago. (She doesn’t want to call it Shingles because you know the Shingles is something old people get and Barbara is so obviously young and vibrant and don’t you dare forget it.) Apparently the pox caused her to get woozy at the British Ambassador’s house where she passed out and hit her head on the marble floor. Barbara sustained a concussion, a condition she explained at length as if the majority of the audience had never heard of the rather common trauma. Her doctors, who she tediously thanked by name on air in multiple segments, told her to rest for several weeks to recover from the head injury. That’s where Barbara’s been. Because the world can’t spin if Barbara isn’t present and accounted for. The entire show dripped with sympathetic gestures towards Walters: flowers, insincere pre-taped tributes from network mates, and a standing ovation. They even had fucking Bloomberg on, as if anyone but the two of them enjoy the Bloomberg bit. Why do they keep doing that to Mario Cantone? A chicken pox number, really girl? Look I know I sound like an asshole (that’s why you’re reading right?) because she’s courting 84 years old, and I should respect my elders and shit. I appreciate your point, but do we really need to endure this relentless jubilant return because bitch took a few weeks off for the chicken pox? I suppose when a person has tread the Earth for that many years, she deserves a party every day. There is something so desperate and clingy about her vise-grip control over The View. Barbara exudes a palpable anxiety. As if she misses a day, they’ll retire her ass. Her condescending tone, botched intros, and shameless self-aggrandizing already make The View like an awkward visit to mean-Grandma’s house. Now add in a mild closed-head injury. Yeah, let that wash over you.