Entertainment June 2012

Glenn Beck in Exile

Don’t cry for the former Fox star—he’s building a 24/7 media empire in his loopy image.
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Nicholas Roberts/The New York Times/Redux

When Glenn Beck “parted company” with Fox News in June of last year, he took his Glenn Beck-ness with him. He took his tears, and his chalkboards, and his patriotic unction. He took his world-historical sweep and his zodiac of personal demons. He took his edifying projects and his long-haul feuds, his hobbyhorses and hobgoblins. He took his face, his voice, the vials of his wrath, the quivering curds of his indignation—he took it all, and he left the network. Gone! There was no replacement for Glenn Beck. None was possible. The portal simply resealed itself, and there we were again—we the people, the watchers of Fox, back with the everyday lineup of guffers and bluffers.

Where did Glenn Beck go, on his nimbus of madness? To the Internet, that’s where. In September 2011, mere months into his exile, Beck launched a Web TV network called GBTV. It was risky, very risky, a precipitous venture from a precipitous man. Dozens of new employees, millions of dollars invested—and what would it do to the brand? “Beck premiered today,” crowed Keith Olbermann, “having lost about 90 percent of the audience he had at Fox!” And it was true: Beck was down from a daily average of 2.2 million Fox viewers to a hard core of 230,000 GBTV subscribers. But oh, the feeling that he might have blown it—this was champagne to Glenn Beck. It mingled strangely in his mind with a whiff of divine ordination. “I’m about to take on massive debt,” he confided huskily during an October episode of The Glenn Beck Program on GBTV. “It seems absolutely crazy to me, and I’m not going to keep asking if that’s right.” We could feel the pressure of oncoming tears: his face was getting that glandular look. “I will listen and obey … I have prayed and prayed and prayed for the answers that I’m going to give you today … I’m a guy who is making crazy business moves right now. I left the biggest and best cable news network at the pintacle of news in the world!” That’s right, folks, the pintacle. The pinnacle of the pentacle. It doesn’t get any higher than that.


VIDEO: James Parker narrates Glenn Beck's online programming, from earnest diatribes to fun chemistry experiments.


Approaching its first birthday, GBTV—motto: “The truth lives here”—looks just like a cute little baby network. In programming terms, at least, it has so far been spared the wilder outgrowths of the Beck libido. It has a little comedy, a little reality TV, a little programming for the kids. There’s “news” and opinion and, inevitably, hours of the maestro himself, on the mic, talking to the camera, rolling and wallowing in airtime like a basking seal. Only Glenn Beck can do what Glenn Beck does. In all that “raucous stream of misinformation” (to borrow a phrase from Evelyn Waugh), he stands and weeps alone. He may lack the kingpin malevolence of Rush Limbaugh, or the triumphant mendacity of Sean Hannity, but only Beck, discoursing in his heady, open-pored way, can really take you there, to that ideological alpha state wherein squinting mistrust combines with a quite extraordinary credulousness. Look, there he is waving his arms about in front of a sign that reads I AM A MAN. Now he’s at his blackboard, probing the money behind the perfidious liberal organization Media Matters: “$4.3 million from Tides Foundation,” he murmurs, wonderingly. “That’s George Soros! Then there’s 2.3 [million] from the Bohemian Foundation … Huh, that’s almost like the ancient god Baal … Are you seeing the pattern here at all? Are you beginning to see the pattern?”

So let’s watch some GBTV. Comedy first: The B.S. of A., with your host, Brian Sack. Skits, Maher-style monologues, sad smatterings of supportive laughter from a tiny off-camera audience. “A new poll found that 52 percent of Republican voters in Mississippi believe that President Obama is a Muslim. When informed of the statistic, the president sighed, shook his head, and rolled up his prayer rug.” Groan. The show’s Sesame Street spoof, “Pumpernickel Boulevard,” raises the ghost of a smile: “Feelin’ good, havin’ fun / Everybody’s number one!” What the hell, a lampoon of mushy pluralism—I can dig it. But then a puppet called Lexie pops up: “There’s Lexie, the tenured schoolteacher!” What does Lexie have to share with us? “Stupid governor wants to change our union contracts so that I can get fired for underperforming!” Double groan, with a splash of screw-you. Actually, the most poignant comedy I found on The B.S. of A. came courtesy of John Derbyshire, at the time a writer for National Review, who dropped by the studio to plug his book We Are Doomed: Reclaiming Conservative Pessimism. A bracingly sour presence, grimacing over a glass of bourbon: “You know, pessimism—the trouble with pessimism is, it’s anti-social. Everybody hates you. Everybody hates me, anyway.” And so it came to pass: within weeks of this appearance, having posted several paragraphs of clinically racist argumentation to the online Taki’s Magazine, Derbyshire found himself universally vituperated (and fired by National Review).

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James Parker is an Atlantic contributing editor.

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