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Yahoo
3 hours ago
- Health
- Yahoo
I Always Knew I Was Different. Still, I Was Shocked To Hear My Doctor Say These 4 Words To Me.
One particularly stressful day a few years ago, while driving to an important work event, I was seized with a severe bout of tics. This was not unusual for me. I'd been ticcing nearly all my life, and stress always exacerbated my tics. On this day, my snorts and jerks were so out of control that I rear-ended a car. That's when I finally visited a neurologist. I needed to know, literally, what made me tic. What he told me — 'You have Tourette syndrome' — came as a shock. It was also a relief. For as long as I can remember, I've had the characteristic vocal and motor tics associated with the condition. Secreting them away in my mental lockbox, burying them well out of sight of others, was how I dealt with them. A diagnosis brought clarity, and it meant that I could deal with my tics in a healthier way — or so I thought. I grew up in a small western New York town in the 1980s, those heady days of ozone-depleting hairspray, goofy mullets, and syrupy synth pop. In my rural community, very few people knew what Tourette was. I certainly didn't. When I was a teenager, a television program, possibly 60 Minutes, aired an episode on the subject that I watched with my mom. It featured a young man who shouted obscenities in some large American city. By that time I'd been ticcing for years — in fact, I'd already been hiding my tics for years. But I didn't recognize myself in this program, because never, not once, did I swear or shout in public. When I was in elementary school, a teacher once stopped class to tell me to quit making noises and 'doing that thing you're doing with your head.' She actually demonstrated 'that thing' in front of my classmates because I was apparently annoying her and disrupting her lesson. Every head turned my way, and I put mine down, humiliated. I could not tell her that I couldn't help myself. Related: Older Women Are Revealing Their Biggest "Life Regrets," And Every Young Person Needs To Hear This In birding, there's something called a 'spark bird' — the bird that, when you first see it in the wild, truly gets you hooked on birding. But this was my spark moment, when I realized my tics were not 'normal' and that I needed to hide them if I wanted to be normal. If my mom made any connection between that kid we saw on TV and me, she didn't mention it, and my parents didn't take me to a neurologist to have me checked out. Because of that TV program, I assumed, wrongly, that having Tourette meant shouting obscenities in public. I learned that this version of Tourette is called coprolalia and, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, it 'only affects about 1 in 10 people with Tourette.' It is not as common as popular media likes to portray it. For me, ticcing has always meant a near-constant urge to do things with my body. 'Urge' may not be the right word for these head jerks, blinks, snorts, grunts, throat clearings, tongue clicks, etc., but it's the best I've got. From the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, my body seems to have a will of its own. In any given hour, I probably tic at least 100 times. During periods of great stress, like when I rear-ended that car, my tics are like a parasitic fungus that assumes total control over my body. Nobody wants to twitch or make weird noises in public — to be the person people crane their necks to see. What's wrong with this guy? you imagine them thinking. After getting called out by my teacher, I only wanted to blend in — to become invisible — because when you're in elementary school, you don't want to be seen as a freak. You want to be like everyone else. I couldn't stop ticcing, but I discovered that I could make it less obvious. To shield myself from shame and embarrassment, I developed an arsenal of tic-hiding strategies. Instead of jerking my head, I would put my hand underneath the table and waggle my fingers or ball my fists repeatedly. Instead of snorting or chuffing — obvious and strange sounds — I'd click my tongue softly, like an irregular metronome. These tricks satisfied my near-constant urge to tic and kept me mostly hidden from view. I wasn't bullied or teased in school, as kids and adults with tics often are, but I probably would have been if I hadn't learned how to control my tics. I've been using these tricks ever since. When I'm out in public today, I'm keenly aware of my internal pressure to tic, but I've become adept at suppressing it, bottling it up and capping it tight. At home, where I'm free to be myself, it's a very different story. My tics come and go. Six months ago, I began squirting air from my mouth the way someone might blow hair off their face; a few weeks later, I started hocking as though to spit a loogie. Like uninvited guests overstaying their welcome, both tics remain with me as I write these words. Sometimes a particular tic will go away only to return a year later, like an exasperating big brother who'd gone off to college and come home with a sly grin and a shaggy beard. Related: "I Thought This Was Normal": People Are Sharing Diagnoses They Received After Someone Else Pointed Out Their Symptoms There is no cure for Tourette — all you can do is try to manage your tics. There are treatments available, ranging from antihypertensives like guanfacine and clonidine to alternative options like the antipsychotic drugs risperidone and Abilify. But I'd honestly rather have tics than the potential side effects these drugs can cause. When I was first diagnosed, I tried guanfacine and I'd wake up in the middle of the night so parched that it was like I'd swallowed sand; my sleeplessness felt more like a punishment, especially since the drug didn't even control my tics, so I quit taking the pill. Since then, I've chosen no other treatments, though I recently learned of a promising option I will try called 'comprehensive behavioral intervention for tics,' or CBIT. This doesn't involve any drugs. Instead, it trains you to change your behaviors and tic less. Researchers estimate that between 350,000 and 450,000 Americans have Tourette syndrome, while roughly 1 million have other persistent tic disorders. There's said to be insufficient evidence to determine the number of adults with Tourette because many people simply outgrow their tics by late adolescence. According to the Tourette Association of America, the condition 'occurs in 1 in 160 (0.6%) school-aged children, although it is estimated that 50% are going undiagnosed' (italics mine). A 2022 survey by the group suggested that 1 in 10 children with a tic disorder 'attempted suicide at least once during the past 12 months.' That's a scary number, and it speaks to how difficult it is for many people with tics to feel comfortable in their own bodies. I'm glad that kids (and their parents) who are diagnosed with Tourette today now have resources available to them — including a supportive community — to feel less stigmatized or ostracized by this awkward thing in their lives. I did not outgrow my tics. Because it's hard to admit publicly something I've always internalized and associated with shame, few people know this part of me. Even if you're not bullied or harassed, hurt and humiliation run deep; they form scars that are easily scraped off. How many other adults fly under the radar, as I do? Who, like me, never outgrew their tics but developed strategies for concealing them? Who didn't benefit from services that the Tourette Association of America offers, or the wealth of research being done today? Who struggled to form truly lasting friendships for fear of being exposed as someone with tics? Apart from the nuisance of having tics, I live what society would likely deem a 'good' and 'regular' life. I have a wife, a child, a great job, a house, and a creative life as a writer and translator. I have Tourette, but Tourette doesn't have me — though my wife would certainly disagree with this. When we got together 25 years ago, I suppressed my tics in front of her, but you can't hide something like this from someone you live with. I no longer try. Even on those nights when my ticcing body keeps her up, she's supportive. Since I've spent a lifetime hiding my tics, I've become successful at blending in, even when I'm meeting people for work or on stage in front of an audience, giving a reading or interviewing authors. But I've also experienced moments of deep loneliness. Retreating into yourself is a good way to not be publicly embarrassed, but you pay a price. Eventually, you end up feeling like a ghost in your own life — known to no one but yourself and a few carefully curated individuals whom you trust. I don't make friends easily. Later this year, I will publish my debut novel, The Book of Losman, after translating more than a dozen novels from Danish and writing countless unsold manuscripts over the past 30 years. It's about a literary translator, like me, with Tourette, but that's where the similarities end. It's a speculative fiction about a man named Losman who lives in Copenhagen, Denmark, and gets involved in an experimental drug study to relive childhood memories in the hope of finding a cure for his Tourette. Why not? The beauty of fiction is that you can imagine anything you want, provided the world you create is believable. In real life, I can't go back in time to reassure the little kid who got called out in elementary school, but I'm old enough to understand something he couldn't: 'Normal' is a highly subjective word, one laced with many assumptions. At nearly 50 years old, my tics (and the need to control them) are ingrained in the very fabric of my being. Even after publishing this essay, I will continue to hide my tics in public. Why? The stigma is a great burden. The line between dignity and humiliation is, in the end, a thin one — at least for me. I truly admire those in the younger generation, who can go on TikTok or YouTube and put themselves out there for the world to see. That's not for me. But by sharing my story here, what I can do is help normalize Tourette and other tic disorders. People like me, we're all around you. All that we ask for is what every human being deserves: to live a judgment-free life. K.E. Semmel is a writer and translator of more than a dozen novels from Danish and Norwegian. His fiction and nonfiction have appeared in Ontario Review, Literary Hub, The Writer's Chronicle, The Southern Review, The Washington Post and elsewhere. 'The World and Varvara' by Simon Fruelund is his most recent translation. His debut novel, 'The Book of Losman,' was published in October 2024 (Santa Fe Writers Project). Find him online at and on his Twitter/X page, @KESemmel. This article originally appeared on HuffPost in June 2024. Also in Goodful: This Woman Is Going Viral For Begging Women Not To Get Married Right Now, And Personally, I Couldn't Agree More Also in Goodful: People Are Sharing Their Biggest "How Doesn't Everyone Know This?" Facts, And I'm Honestly Embarrassed I Never Realized Some Of These Also in Goodful: "I Can't Wait For This To Go Out Of Style": People Are Sharing Popular Modern Trends That Are Actually Pretty Toxic
The Irish Sun
3 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Irish Sun
Nepo baby with HUGE 80s movie star dad looks incredible in black swimsuit – but can you guess who her famous father is?
A NEPO-BABY with a huge Hollywood star father was branded body "goals" as she stripped to a black swimsuit. The sports star, 36, opted for a figure hugging black one-piece as she hit the sands at Florida's Palm Beach. Advertisement 6 A Hollywood nepo baby with a mega famous father took to the sea in Florida as she enjoyed her downtime Credit: Frida / Boonestudios 6 Hannah Selleck, 37, has carved out a completely different career to her famous dad Credit: Getty 6 She is the only child of actor Tom Selleck and his wife Jillie Mack Credit: Alamy Hannah Selleck is the daughter of Three Men and a Baby and Quigley Down Under actor Tom Selleck, 80 - and is often spotted hanging out with her famous pop. She is the screen star's sole child with his wife Jillie Mack, 67, and - despite her dad's famous career - swerved film fame to become an equestrian competitor. In her down time away from her horses, Hannah captured herself chilling out on the beach. She uploaded a snap to her Instagram page, taken by Boone Studios, which saw her emerging from the waves and sweeping her wet locks over her shoulders. Advertisement READ MORE ON NEPO BABIES She had pulled on a pair of sunglasses and looked completely relaxed as she strode on the sands. In a thought-provoking caption she wrote: "Some waves aren't meant to be caught." This prompted one fan to post: "You are GOALS!!!!!" A second put: "Super cute babe. I'm here for this." Advertisement Most read in Celebrity Exclusive A third then gushed: "Stunning! Miss you!" Her wider Instagram account captures the international show jumper's achievements in the sporting world, as well as a series of selfies and shots with her pals. Who is Tom Selleck's wife, Jillie Mack? Her love for horses came after actor Tom and Jillie raised her on a California ranch, named Rancho de Descanso, and her mum gushed to People in 2012: "We both thought it was the best environment for her to grow up." In 2010, this proved to be correct and spurred her to launch her own training and breeding operation on-site. Advertisement Eight years later, she suffered a serious riding injury during which she shattered her fibula and tibia - yet had worked hard to get her passion back on track. Her battles came after she was then diagnosed with a rare nerve disease which sparked PTSD, and Hannah had previously told how meditation and yoga have helped in her recovery. CBS Fall Premiere Dates CBS has announced its fall premiere lineup. The network has decided to push most of its premieres back to mid-October, while one highly-anticipated show is still slated to air in September. Here's a look at all the shows premiering on CBS this fall: Wednesday, September 18: Survivor - 8pm ET Saturday, September 21: 48 Hours - 9pm ET Sunday, September 22: 60 Minutes - 7pm ET Matlock (Sneak Peek) 9pm ET Sunday, September 29: Continuation of NFL on CBS - 7pm ET 60 Minutes - 7:30pm ET The Summit (Sneak peek) - 9pm ET Big Brother - 10:30pm ET Sunday, October 6: Continuation of NFL on CBS - 7pm ET American Music Awards - 8pm ET Big Brother - 10pm ET Wednesday, October 9: Survivor - 8pm ET The Summit - 9:30pm ET Thursday, October 10: Big Brother - 8pm ET Matlock - 9pm ET Elsbeth - 10pm ET Sunday, October 13: 60 Minutes - 7pm ET Big Brother - 8:30pm ET Monday, October 14: NCIS - 8pm ET NCIS: Origins - 9pm ET Tuesday, October 15: FBI - 8pm ET FBI: International - 9pm ET FBI: Most Wanted - 10pm ET Wednesday, October 16: Survivor - 8pm ET The Summit - 9:30pm ET Thursday, October 17: George & Mandy's First Marriage - 8pm ET Ghosts - 8:30pm ET Matlock - 9pm ET Elsbeth - 10pm ET Firday, October 18: SWAT - 8pm ET Fire Country - 9pm ET Blue Bloods - 10pm ET Monday, October 21: The Neighborhood - 8pm ET Poppa's House - 8:30pm ET NCIS - 9pm ET NCIS: Origins - 10pm ET Sunday, October 27: Continuation of NFL on CBS - 7pm ET 60 Minutes - 7:30pm ET Tracker - 8:30pm ET The Equalizer - 9:30pm ET PROUD PAPA Meanwhile, her connection with her father has remained strong. He previously spoke out about being a parent to Advertisement "There aren't a lot of good, strong, examples of patriarchs trying to do the right thing on television. "So, I think that performs a certain function; fathers are important." He then added to DOUBLE TAKE Last year, film fans were left stunned after Advertisement The iconic actor switched up his look months after CBS announced that Blue Bloods was canceled - and Tom had been clear about his unhappiness with the decision. He was spotted eating a McDonald's burger before strolling across a parking lot. Typically, Tom is clean-shaven with a large mustache and carefully styled hair. Before the network announced that the police drama, which was beloved by fans, had been canceled, the Magnum PI star discussed its renewal chances with Advertisement "Well, that's a good question," he said at the time. "I will continue to think that CBS will come to their senses. "We're the third-highest show in all of broadcast." Tom continued, "We're winning the night. All the cast wants to come back. Advertisement "I can tell you this: We aren't sliding off a cliff; we're doing good shows." "And still holding out place. So I dunno. You tell me," the actor went on. 6 Hannah has carved out a career as an international show jumper Credit: Getty 6 Tom has carved out a hugely successful movie and TV career Credit: Rex Advertisement 6 He recently spoke out about fatherhood and parenting Credit: Getty
Buzz Feed
10 hours ago
- Health
- Buzz Feed
4 Words That Changed My Life After Diagnosis
One particularly stressful day a few years ago, while driving to an important work event, I was seized with a severe bout of tics. This was not unusual for me. I'd been ticcing nearly all my life, and stress always exacerbated my tics. On this day, my snorts and jerks were so out of control that I rear-ended a car. That's when I finally visited a neurologist. I needed to know, literally, what made me tic. What he told me — 'You have Tourette syndrome' — came as a shock. It was also a relief. For as long as I can remember, I've had the characteristic vocal and motor tics associated with the condition. Secreting them away in my mental lockbox, burying them well out of sight of others, was how I dealt with them. A diagnosis brought clarity, and it meant that I could deal with my tics in a healthier way — or so I thought. I grew up in a small western New York town in the 1980s, those heady days of ozone-depleting hairspray, goofy mullets, and syrupy synth pop. In my rural community, very few people knew what Tourette was. I certainly didn't. When I was a teenager, a television program, possibly 60 Minutes, aired an episode on the subject that I watched with my mom. It featured a young man who shouted obscenities in some large American city. By that time I'd been ticcing for years — in fact, I'd already been hiding my tics for years. But I didn't recognize myself in this program, because never, not once, did I swear or shout in public. When I was in elementary school, a teacher once stopped class to tell me to quit making noises and 'doing that thing you're doing with your head.' She actually demonstrated 'that thing' in front of my classmates because I was apparently annoying her and disrupting her lesson. Every head turned my way, and I put mine down, humiliated. I could not tell her that I couldn't help myself. In birding, there's something called a 'spark bird' — the bird that, when you first see it in the wild, truly gets you hooked on birding. But this was my spark moment, when I realized my tics were not 'normal' and that I needed to hide them if I wanted to be normal. If my mom made any connection between that kid we saw on TV and me, she didn't mention it, and my parents didn't take me to a neurologist to have me checked out. Because of that TV program, I assumed, wrongly, that having Tourette meant shouting obscenities in public. I learned that this version of Tourette is called coprolalia and, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, it 'only affects about 1 in 10 people with Tourette.' It is not as common as popular media likes to portray it. For me, ticcing has always meant a near-constant urge to do things with my body. 'Urge' may not be the right word for these head jerks, blinks, snorts, grunts, throat clearings, tongue clicks, etc., but it's the best I've got. From the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, my body seems to have a will of its own. In any given hour, I probably tic at least 100 times. During periods of great stress, like when I rear-ended that car, my tics are like a parasitic fungus that assumes total control over my body. Nobody wants to twitch or make weird noises in public — to be the person people crane their necks to see. What's wrong with this guy? you imagine them thinking. After getting called out by my teacher, I only wanted to blend in — to become invisible — because when you're in elementary school, you don't want to be seen as a freak. You want to be like everyone else. I couldn't stop ticcing, but I discovered that I could make it less obvious. To shield myself from shame and embarrassment, I developed an arsenal of tic-hiding strategies. Instead of jerking my head, I would put my hand underneath the table and waggle my fingers or ball my fists repeatedly. Instead of snorting or chuffing — obvious and strange sounds — I'd click my tongue softly, like an irregular metronome. These tricks satisfied my near-constant urge to tic and kept me mostly hidden from view. I wasn't bullied or teased in school, as kids and adults with tics often are, but I probably would have been if I hadn't learned how to control my tics. I've been using these tricks ever since. When I'm out in public today, I'm keenly aware of my internal pressure to tic, but I've become adept at suppressing it, bottling it up and capping it tight. At home, where I'm free to be myself, it's a very different story. My tics come and go. Six months ago, I began squirting air from my mouth the way someone might blow hair off their face; a few weeks later, I started hocking as though to spit a loogie. Like uninvited guests overstaying their welcome, both tics remain with me as I write these words. Sometimes a particular tic will go away only to return a year later, like an exasperating big brother who'd gone off to college and come home with a sly grin and a shaggy beard. There is no cure for Tourette — all you can do is try to manage your tics. There are treatments available, ranging from antihypertensives like guanfacine and clonidine to alternative options like the antipsychotic drugs risperidone and Abilify. But I'd honestly rather have tics than the potential side effects these drugs can cause. When I was first diagnosed, I tried guanfacine and I'd wake up in the middle of the night so parched that it was like I'd swallowed sand; my sleeplessness felt more like a punishment, especially since the drug didn't even control my tics, so I quit taking the pill. Since then, I've chosen no other treatments, though I recently learned of a promising option I will try called 'comprehensive behavioral intervention for tics,' or CBIT. This doesn't involve any drugs. Instead, it trains you to change your behaviors and tic less. Researchers estimate that between 350,000 and 450,000 Americans have Tourette syndrome, while roughly 1 million have other persistent tic disorders. There's said to be insufficient evidence to determine the number of adults with Tourette because many people simply outgrow their tics by late adolescence. According to the Tourette Association of America, the condition 'occurs in 1 in 160 (0.6%) school-aged children, although it is estimated that 50% are going undiagnosed ' (italics mine). A 2022 survey by the group suggested that 1 in 10 children with a tic disorder 'attempted suicide at least once during the past 12 months.' That's a scary number, and it speaks to how difficult it is for many people with tics to feel comfortable in their own bodies. I'm glad that kids (and their parents) who are diagnosed with Tourette today now have resources available to them — including a supportive community — to feel less stigmatized or ostracized by this awkward thing in their lives. I did not outgrow my tics. Because it's hard to admit publicly something I've always internalized and associated with shame, few people know this part of me. Even if you're not bullied or harassed, hurt and humiliation run deep; they form scars that are easily scraped off. How many other adults fly under the radar, as I do? Who, like me, never outgrew their tics but developed strategies for concealing them? Who didn't benefit from services that the Tourette Association of America offers, or the wealth of research being done today? Who struggled to form truly lasting friendships for fear of being exposed as someone with tics? Apart from the nuisance of having tics, I live what society would likely deem a 'good' and 'regular' life. I have a wife, a child, a great job, a house, and a creative life as a writer and translator. I have Tourette, but Tourette doesn't have me — though my wife would certainly disagree with this. When we got together 25 years ago, I suppressed my tics in front of her, but you can't hide something like this from someone you live with. I no longer try. Even on those nights when my ticcing body keeps her up, she's supportive. Since I've spent a lifetime hiding my tics, I've become successful at blending in, even when I'm meeting people for work or on stage in front of an audience, giving a reading or interviewing authors. But I've also experienced moments of deep loneliness. Retreating into yourself is a good way to not be publicly embarrassed, but you pay a price. Eventually, you end up feeling like a ghost in your own life — known to no one but yourself and a few carefully curated individuals whom you trust. I don't make friends easily. Later this year, I will publish my debut novel, The Book of Losman, after translating more than a dozen novels from Danish and writing countless unsold manuscripts over the past 30 years. It's about a literary translator, like me, with Tourette, but that's where the similarities end. It's a speculative fiction about a man named Losman who lives in Copenhagen, Denmark, and gets involved in an experimental drug study to relive childhood memories in the hope of finding a cure for his Tourette. Why not? The beauty of fiction is that you can imagine anything you want, provided the world you create is believable. In real life, I can't go back in time to reassure the little kid who got called out in elementary school, but I'm old enough to understand something he couldn't: 'Normal' is a highly subjective word, one laced with many assumptions. At nearly 50 years old, my tics (and the need to control them) are ingrained in the very fabric of my being. Even after publishing this essay, I will continue to hide my tics in public. Why? The stigma is a great burden. The line between dignity and humiliation is, in the end, a thin one — at least for me. I truly admire those in the younger generation, who can go on TikTok or YouTube and put themselves out there for the world to see. That's not for me. But by sharing my story here, what I can do is help normalize Tourette and other tic disorders. People like me, we're all around you. All that we ask for is what every human being deserves: to live a judgment-free life.
Daily Mail
18 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Report: 60 Minutes stars' insubordination against CBS News
The A-List stars of flagship CBS News program 60 Minutes have demanded the company appoint their pick for the show's next executive producer amid ongoing turmoil at the network. Correspondents Lesley Stahl, Scott Pelley, Bill Whitaker, Anderson Cooper , Sharyn Alfonsi, Jon Wertheim, and Cecilia Vega all signed a letter addressed to the co-chief executive of CBS parent company Paramount requesting that longtime 60 Minutes staffer Tanya Simon get the job. The journalists' request, sent last month, has so far go unanswered by Paramount co-CEO George Cheeks, Status reported. One staffer insisted that the high-profile correspondents' are deadly serious. 'There will be a revolt if it's not her,' the source told Status. Simon, described as a 'beloved leader' in the newsroom, has worked as 60 Minutes' interim executive producer since Bill Owens left back in April. She has spent her entire 26-year career at 60 Minutes, and all seven of the show's correspondents stand behind her. Owens - as well as former CBS News CEO Wendy McMahon - resigned after coming out against Paramount's bid to settle a $20 billion lawsuit filed by President Donald Trump claiming that an October 60 Minutes interview with Kamala Harris was 'deceptively edited.'60 Minutes Paramount has been pursuing a multibillion-dollar media merger with Skydance that would require approval by the Trump administration. Paramount brass believes any large settlement between the company and Trump could be considered a bribe to get the Skydance deal approved. Paramount heiress Shari Redstone doesn't appear to be supportive of Simon's appointment, Status reported. She remains frustrated with the show's coverage of Donald Trump and the Israel-Gaza war. Another 'likely' reason for Redstone's alleged hesitance is the looming deal with Skydance, staffers said. Simon's appointment could convince them to stay with 60 Minutes, while bringing in an outsider would make their exits 'appear far more likely,' Statues reported. On Wednesday, sources told the New York Post that David Ellison, 41, had become confident the $8 billion deal would close by the end of the summer.
Daily Mail
19 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
A-List 60 Minutes stars' shocking insubordination against CBS News bosses
The A-List stars of flagship CBS News program 60 Minutes have demanded the company appoint their pick for the show's next executive producer amid ongoing turmoil at the network. Correspondents Lesley Stahl, Scott Pelley, Bill Whitaker, Anderson Cooper, Sharyn Alfonsi, Jon Wertheim, and Cecilia Vega all signed a letter addressed to the co-chief executive of CBS parent company Paramount requesting that longtime 60 Minutes staffer Tanya Simon get the job. The journalists' request, sent last month, has so far go unanswered by Paramount co-CEO George Cheeks, Status reported. One staffer insisted that the high-profile correspondents' are deadly serious. 'There will be a revolt if it's not her,' the source told Status. Simon, described as a 'beloved leader' in the newsroom, has worked as 60 Minutes' interim executive producer since Bill Owens left back in April. She has spent her entire 26-year career at 60 Minutes, and all seven of the show's correspondents stand behind her. Owens - as well as former CBS News CEO Wendy McMahon - resigned after coming out against Paramount's bid to settle a $20 billion lawsuit filed by President Donald Trump claiming that an October 60 Minutes interview with Kamala Harris was 'deceptively edited.'60 Minutes 60 Minutes correspondents (from left to right) Sharyn Alfonsi, Jon Wertheim, Bill Whitaker, Lesley Stahl, Scott Pelley, Cecilia Vega, and Anderson Cooper all signed a letter addressed to the co-chief executive of CBS parent Paramount requesting that longtime 60 Minutes editor Tanya Simon get the job as executive producer Paramount has been pursuing a multibillion-dollar media merger with Skydance that would require approval by the Trump administration. Paramount brass believes any large settlement between the company and Trump could be considered a bribe to get the Skydance deal approved. Paramount heiress Shari Redstone doesn't appear to be supportive of Simon's appointment, Status reported. She remains frustrated with the show's coverage of Donald Trump and the Israel-Gaza war. Another 'likely' reason for Redstone's alleged hesitance is the looming deal with Skydance, staffers said. If approved, Skydance CEO David Ellison - the son of GOP backer Larry Ellison - may move the show in a different direction. The decision could determine the fate of stars like Stahl and Pelley, who are said to be weighing whether to stick around for another season. Simon's appointment could convince them to stay with 60 Minutes, while bringing in an outsider would make their exits 'appear far more likely,' Statues reported. Former 60 Minutes executive producer Bill Owens and ex-CBS News CEO Wendy McMahon (pictured) resigned after coming out against Paramount's bid to settle a $20 billion lawsuit filed by President Donald Trump claiming that an October 60 Minutes interview with Kamala Harris was 'deceptively edited' On Wednesday, sources told the New York Post that David Ellison, 41, had become confident the $8 billion deal would close by the end of the summer. His vision for 60 Minutes - still CBS News' ratings crown jewel - remains a concern for staffers, after he reportedly reached out to former New York Times editor and Free Press founder Bari Weiss for a potential high-profile gig with the network.
