Lindsay Lohan/Photo © PR Photos

Yikes! They were out in force over the past four days. I do mean people who have nothing to do but essentially wish bad luck on those whom they’ve never met, and of whom they are secretly envious.

Chelsea Clinton got married. She wed her longtime boyfriend in a big ceremony that she didn’t want, but her parents did. The price tag came in at less than $2 million, which is nothing considering the wealth of the bride’s parents. They had it, they spent it. But the haters had begun even before the couple took their vows. The celebrity-heavy guest list (a fiction) … the cost (mostly a fiction and none of anybody’s business) … the dress Hilary Clinton wore to the rehearsal dinner (Mr. wOw thought it fresh and summery – Mrs. Clinton is no sylph – so what?). Once the wedding pics were posted there was horrific traffic on lowbrow websites such as Perez and TMZ (and even on Huffington Post) criticizing Chelsea’s looks, the faith of her husband (he is Jewish) and almost anything else one could throw at a person whose last name is Clinton. Or at a person who has more than you do. (That means you, if you begrudge people who have made it big, the right to live big. Like you wouldn’t?)

Chelsea looked great. I loved her dress and the only thing negative I can find to say is that Bill Clinton needs to put on a pound or two.

Lindsay Lohan released from jail after serving 13 days of a 90-day sentence (which was maybe three more days than expected right from the start). Her release and admittance to rehab was just a hilarious episode for so many. The “Morning Joe” crew of morons were especially tickled. But they are all too busy posing for the artsy black-and-white photographs that illustrate the show, to actually not comment on a story that has no genuine significance. Or perhaps they are too up their own asses to comment in some humane manner. Because, as we know, everyone on the “Morning Joe” show has lived liked Christ.

Good luck, Miss Lohan.

Bristol Palin has called off her second engagement to her baby daddy Levi Johnston because of rumors that he might be the baby daddy of some ex-girlfriend he might have slept with in the many months between their first breakup and recent makeup. The ex has denied any such thing is possible – the story broke in the National Enquirer – but the humiliation was apparently too much for Bristol. Hmm … Mr. wOw was pretty sure the reconciliation of Bristol and Levi was part of Sarah Palin’s plan to settle her personal issues before officially running for president in 2012. Perhaps not. (Even Mr. wOw can be wrong.)

I feel bad. Bristol and Levi are a cute couple and from what I’ve seen of both of them, they are sweet and sincere and of similar limited intelligence. Neither will do much better.

Think it over.

The Food Network used to be Mr. wOw’s oasis of tranquility and fantasy. Something about watching people prepare beautifully lit food has always had a relaxing effect. I don’t cook much myself – not anymore, not after 33 years – but the various chefs and their habits and recipes sometimes gave me hope I’d return to being more a more loving person. (Well, they always say cooking for one’s family/boyfriend/etc. is a great sign of love. I say it’s a great way to mess up a clean kitchen.)

But in recent years The Food Network has gone the way of all TV. Now there is so much competitiveness. Various challenges in the form of “The Next Food Network Star” or “Chopped” or (most loathsome of all) “Bobby Flay’s Throwdown.” What?! Why do I need to see people cry or agonize or be embarrassed? I go through all that at the beginning and end of my own day. I find it ugly.

The “judges” are just entitled bitches and bastards (much as they are on “Project Runway”). The point is not the food, but how far to push people to make them break. I mean – let’s concoct a meal with an emotional theme? Or let’s make something in 40 minutes with an ingredient you hate? Or … whatever. Ridiculous.

I have a particular hate for Mr. Flay’s “Throwdown.” I hope at this point people understand that when they are approached for a “special segment” on the Food Network that no such thing exists – that it is a setup for Mr. Flay to come swaggering in (and a man with less reason to swagger I have never seen!) and announce: “Are you ready for a throwdown?” These unsuspecting, hardworking people have gathered family and friends to their “special segment.” I long for the day somebody up and pulls Mr. Flay aside and says, “My children are here. You sucker-punched me. Give me my special segment or I am going to bust your smirking face in.”

Now, that would be a delightful medley of sweet-and-sour ingredients with just the right amount of spice for a good kick.