During the May 20 edition of Fox News' Red Eye, host Greg Gutfeld criticized Ellen DeGeneres for “announc[ing] on her show that she's marrying the stunningly hot Portia de Rossi." Gutfeld said: “As you know, seeing Ellen happy makes me happy, for everyone should be happy with the one they love, be they straight, gay, transgendered, bicurious, master, slave, S&M, or even Belgian -- especially Belgian, those miserable bastards deserve it.” Later, Gutfeld added, “For me, public exhortations of love are no different than telling everyone how great your bowel movements are since switching to All-Bran -- no one gives a [bleep] except you.” Gutfeld then said: “And so, this is why I never discuss my marriage with anyone, which is the main reason why John Stamos and I are so happy together. And if you disagree with me, then you, sir, are worse than Hitler." But Gutfeld himself has engaged in “public exhortations of love” and has talked about his wife. In Gutfeld's book about his tenure as editor of the United Kingdom's edition of Maxim magazine, Lessons from the Land of Pork Scratchings, (Simon & Schuster, January 2008), he highlights the initial courtship with his eventual wife, Elena Moussa. And according to a November 6, 2005, New York Observer item written by Jessica Coen, Gutfeld “talks incessantly and adoringly of his 24-year-old Russian bride, Elena, and carries with him an envelope chock-full of photos.”

Gutfeld's comments were previously noted by Michelangelo Signorile on his blog, The Gist.

In an excerpt from Gutfeld's book published in the January 6 edition of The Sunday Times, Gutfeld described in some detail the first time he met his future wife:

After a few pints, I see a good-looking couple walking across the hotel pavilion. Assuming they are husband and wife I ignore them. But as we walk past each other, the man speaks: “Grek Gutfelt!”

He is Sasha, a Russian editor, and the woman is Elena, his photo-editor. She has striking brown eyes and black hair resting comfortably on a model's physique. She is so out of my league, my left brain tells the right. She smiles, and I smile back.

[...]

For the next few days in Portugal I wander the grounds, desperately trying to get Elena to notice me. My attempts at conversation fall flat, every joke met with awkward silence. Her being Russian probably means she doesn't get my attempts at wit, but at least she knows I'm trying. The Brits find this funny, but they're still behind me.

And here's another lesson about British men. My new “mates” come to my aid because they love a losing cause. If the losing cause wins, it's gigantic. If the losing cause loses, it's to be expected. You really can't fail with that kind of attitude to life, can you?

There could be a darker side to this enthusiasm for the underdog: sadism. Brits may love losers, but only if they can point them in the direction of defeat. This is what makes Brits especially friendly. They're extremely helpful when they know you aren't going anywhere better. But, thanks in part to my newly found mates, I work up the nerve to ask Elena out on a date. She says yes, we exchange numbers, and I am a hero.

[...]

I should mention that things with Elena are good. After dating for five months, we get married. Elena wants me to take the bus and see the city. Without her to egg me on, I'd choose instead to simply sit at home and watch Big Brother, my new favourite show.

From the May 20 edition of Fox News' Red Eye with Greg Gutfeld:

GUTFELD: So, hot on the flat, comfortable heels of California overturning the gay marriage ban, Ellen DeGeneres announced on her show that she's marrying the stunningly hot Portia de Rossi, and she got a standing ovation. And I could tell Ellen hasn't been this happy since she professed the same love for Anne Heche, also on TV, a decade ago. As you know, seeing Ellen happy makes me happy, for everyone should be happy with the one they love, be they straight, gay, transgendered, bicurious, master, slave, S&M, or even Belgian -- especially Belgian, those miserable bastards deserve it.

But Ellen already knows that once you publicize your love, it applies undue pressure on that relationship to survive, even if it's not meant to be, and then resentment grows, leading inevitably to something named Coley Laffoon [Heche's estranged husband] -- such a stupid, stupid name.

The fact is, if you ever want to live happily ever after, you need to shut the hell up about it. Professing one's love publicly only works in sappy commercials, bad movies, and perhaps dungeons in the East Village where the survival of your scrotum depends on it. For me, public exhortations of love are no different than telling everyone how great your bowel movements are since switching to All-Bran -- no one gives a [bleep] except you. And so, this is why I never discuss my marriage with anyone, which is the main reason why John Stamos and I are so happy together. And if you disagree with me, then you, sir, are worse than Hitler.

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