The only time I ever appeared in the 'Enquirer' was for a piece about people who let their hair grow gray. I guess I'm not much of a wild child.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I am fine with the fact that some of my hair is gray. If it was all gray overnight, that would be a scary thing.
My parents were like the kind of people who read the 'Enquirer' and believed everything it said.
I remember being a kid and seeing the 'National Inquirer' at the grocery store checkout line. When somebody actually picked up a copy, it was mortifying. You felt dirty for them. But now it's perfectly acceptable to read something like that. There's absolutely no taboo surrounding that kind of exploitation.
Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.
I've always said that gray hair looks good on everybody but yourself. To me, it makes me look old.
When I was presenting 'Animal Hospital,' the grey started to creep into my beard and moustache. I used my wife's mascara to darken it.
My very first magazine cover was the National Enquirer.
I've had completely gray hair since, like, 30.
Just as black and white, when mixed, make grey, in many ways that's what it did to my self-identity: it created a murky area of who I was, a haze around how people connected with me. I was grey. And who wants to be this indifferent colour, devoid of depth and stuck in the middle? I certainly didn't.
You know, one wonderful thing that came out of my Enquirer experience is that, in my case, it was ruled tabloids are magazines. Which means they didn't have the protection that a newspaper has.