Evans Above

Maybe you haven’t heard of Angie Varona. Maybe you didn’t know that when she was 14, the now 18-year-old Miami teen put some photos of herself in bikinis and bras and panties up on her Photobucket account which was subsequently hacked, turning her into one of the most Googled 14-year-olds out there.

Fast forward four years and now she’s talking to ABC News Nightline and getting interviewed by George Stephanopoulos on Good Morning America. The teen cries in the Nightline piece. She wishes the photos had never made it out on to the internet. The parents lament that her life has changed.

But why, oh why, did ABC think it was appropriate to show the photos? During the GMA piece I saw this morning, the photos slowly scrolled across the screen like some Ken Burns Civil War documentary. They’re not nude photos, they’re probably not much more than you’d see on the beach, but if the piece is about the devastating effects they’ve had on Angie Varona’s life, what’s the point of showing them again? I mean it’s not like it’s November sweeps…oh, never mind.

Dear twenty-something walking ahead of me in black leggings and a bomber jacket,

It’s Tuesday morning. On a busy street.

I really don’t think I should know this much about the shape of your ass unless I’m slapping into it.

Just sayin’

I was just looking at this photo of Lindsay Lohan on The Superficial. She was a guest at Kim Kardashian’s product placement episode wedding on the weekend. A few things come to mind:

Nice picture of Dina Lohan and her grandmother daughter.

Hooray for open bars. I mean the probation order didn’t say she couldn’t drink, right?

Lindsay is 25. Twenty-five. If this is what she looks like now, I’m terrified to see next year week.

Kudos go out to Kate Taylor for her Globe & Mail article on the Canada’s transition from analog to digital over-the-air broadcasts.

Several papers have done stories on the Canadian transition (it happened in the U.S. in 2009) and many of them were completely out of whack with reality, making it seem that antennas were going the way of the dinosaurs. Kate’s article actually talks to enthusiastic OTA watchers who’ve managed to ditch their cable or satellite subscriptions.

We may never know all the reasons why Real Housewives of Beverly Hills star Russell Armstrong committed suicide this week, but surely the stresses of living in a reality TV bubble had something to do with it.

Some people tend to think that reality television gives them an insider’s peek into a life that they’re not leading, whether it’s the Gucci bags and endless parties of the Real Housewives franchise or the melanoma-seeking syphilitic fantasies of the Jersey Shore cast.

Let’s get this straight: there’s nothing real about reality. The facade crumbles when you realize that Survivor producer Mark Burnett had to cop to reshooting competition scenes with doubles to get better shots or that socialites Nicole and Paris would reshoot scenes for their The Simple Life series.

You might think that Family Jewels gives you an insight into the life of rock god Gene Simmons. That show’s as close to being a sitcom as reality can get. When you see a shot of Gene being woken up from his sleep to answer an emergency call from Nick at night do you really think a cameraman, boom operator, and production assistant were camped out all night at the foot of his bed in case something happened? When his SUV breaks down in the middle of the desert and he frantically tries to find a ride to Las Vegas for an important concert, why doesn’t Gene get into the camera vehicle rather than waiting for Carrot Top to show up?

The one thing that’s real about reality is the stress it can have on someone’s real life. I can play a millionaire jetsetter on a weekly show (I’m open to offers) but at night I’d just be an actor going home to some rented house in the hills. In reality shows, if I lead an extravagant life there’s an immense pressure to keep up the expensive lifestyle in case the viewers see behind the curtain and get disillusioned that the show isn’t “real.” So reality stars can end up living first class lives on a coach class budget.

Then there’s the psychological stress of producers taking real — or what passes for real — moments and amping them up for the camera. Gene Simmons sobs he’s an idiot as he crouches by the grave of his estranged father in Israel. Tori Spelling may throw a fancy first birthday party for her kids, but video recollections of those moments include her sobbing to husband Dean McDermott about her then-sour relationship with their grandmother. Good times! Those are real feelings but people are taking their emotions and pimping them out, dressing them up in stockings and stilettos, and making them work on the streets.

It’s a dangerous path when your reality life is mixed in with your real life. When the new season of Kat Von D’s LA Ink was about to premiere, she announced that her recent engagement to Jesse James was off. Within hours of TLC cancelling the show, the engagement was back on. Yeah, right, they really broke up.

That’s the real damage of reality shows. While the stars are stressing out to the point of suicide we’re also turning into a community of skeptics. At least back in the day when Alexis and Krsytle would cat-fight on Dynasty the audiences knew they were munching cookies at the craft services table between takes.

While obviously Photoshopped nude photos of Zac Efron made the actor a trending topic on Twitter tonight, we thought it was appropriate to drag out some real photos of Zac Efron…of the clothed variety.

Check out our Zac Efron photo gallery.

Last night, as The Bachelorette’s Ashley Hebert said “No” to Ben Flajnik’s proposal and “Yes” to J.P. Rosenbaum’s, I began to wonder what the late Walt Disney would think of this series airing on ABC, the network owned by Disney.

Would Walt see family values in a show where a bachelor or bachelorette swaps spit and other bodily fluids with 25 hopefuls on a journey towards true love? Would he see good old-fashioned Americana in a show that inevitably has the star sucking face and stroking thighs with the two finalists the day before they decide who they’ll become engaged to?

Maybe Walt Disney would see the possibility of attractions for his theme parks. For example, EPCOT at Walt Disney World could feature a science exhibition that could detail all the strains of bacteria found in an improperly maintained hot tub. Or the Magic Kingdom could feature a new rollercoaster that hurtles you down the thighs of a tanned bachelorette as she decides how many guys she’ll tell about Chris Harrison’s invitation to forgo their separate rooms and spend the night as a couple in the fantasy suite. After the test results come back, it could be called Fantasy Suite Fright Night.

Let’s not forget that ABC has now spun off Bachelor Pad, where previously-spurned contestants can do body shots and actively spoon with with others in a sort of Chris Harrison-hosted orgy.

Disney has always been known for happy endings — no, not the massage kind — but after 15 seasons of The Bachelor and 7 of The Bachelorette, only two couples, Trista Rehn and Ryan Sutter and Jason Mesnick and Molly Malaney, have actually ended up getting married. You stand a better chance of finding a Blu-Ray edition of Song of the South than you do finding wedded bliss on this series.

Paris and Kathy Hilton joined the women of The View The Talk today and momma Kathy said she didn’t spoil the children and may, in fact, have been overly strict.

Seeing as Paris has already had sex tapes, served jail time for a DUI probation violation and performed community service for cocaine charge plea bargain, Kathy Hilton’s parenting style is obviously one to copy.

After seeing the recent flash mob on Modern Family, I came across this YouTube sensations of a flash mob singing the Hallelujah Chorus to unsuspecting food court patrons in a mall. It’s already made the old media rounds, appearing on CNN, CTV, etc.

Looking over the comments on YouTube, I chuckled at the one that said, “America does controlled spontaneity like no one? else.” Maybe America is great at “controlled spontaneity” but kudos to Canada as this was actually shot in a mall in Welland, Ontario. You can even see the OLG kiosk in the background…which reminds me, I need to buy a 6/49 ticket.

There’s a giant meme flashing around the internet right now. It’s even got its own Twitter hashtag: #buthonestlymonica

In a nutshell, writer Monica Gaudio discovered that an article she had written about apple pie had been published in a print magazine called Cooks Source. She had not been paid, nor had she given her permission for the article to be published by them.

She started an email exchange with the mag’s editor, Judith Griggs, and when asked what she wanted, Monica asked for a printed apology and a $130 donation to be made to the Columbia School of Journalism. Grigg’s reply showed a draw-droppingly ignorant point of view for someone in the publishing world. Griggs said:

…Honestly Monica, the web is considered “public domain” and you should be happy we just didn’t “lift” your whole article and put someone else’s name on it! It happens a lot, clearly more than you are aware of, especially on college campuses, and the workplace. If you took offence and are unhappy, I am sorry, but you as a professional should know that the article we used written by you was in very bad need of editing, and is much better now than was originally. Now it will work well for your portfolio. For that reason, I have a bit of a difficult time with your requests for monetary gain, albeit for such a fine (and very wealthy!) institution. We put some time into rewrites, you should compensate me! I never charge young writers for advice or rewriting poorly written pieces, and have many who write for me… ALWAYS for free!”

Wow. The web went nuts. People began digging around and discovered evidence that articles on the site may have been taken from NPR, The Food Network, Paula Deen, Disney and a whole host of others whose legal pockets are quite deep. The blog How Publishing Really Works has an excellent post detailing the whole Monica Gaudio/Judith Griggs debacle.

And not wanting to let a good meme pass, we present our new T-Shirt: Dear Judith Griggs: My ass may not be public domain but you can still kiss it!

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