Jake Pavelka might be the worst person in the world

Seriously, this man makes me feel sympathy for Vienna Girardi.  On the very special taped confrontation episode of The Bachelorette last night, Vienna and Jake hashed out their competing stories of the death of their "love."  I didn't watch the show (but I do read the tabloids!), but my understanding was that everyone really did not like Vienna, and that she was the villain.  That might still very well be true, but if you watch the way Jake speaks to her on camera on last night's show, and then imagine what it would be like to live with him, I can't help taking her side. (Skip to 7:35 for full-on douche.)



(Skip to 1:08, 2:08, 3:40, and 4:20)

He literally says to her "Stop interrupting me!" with murder in his eyes.  Over the course of the interview, you can see him go from controlled sociopath to outright rage, and you get the feeling he's revealed a little more of his true personality than he meant to.  From EW's Michael Slezak:

Jake, for his part, seemed to be channeling Terry O’Quinn in The Stepfather, or Terry O’Quinn as Lost‘s Mr. Smokey. His mouth set in an unwavering line, his eyes boilingeth over with fury, he spoke like a man who had come to a streetfight armed with a half-dozen vague and pre-rehearsed anecdotes, and was shocked to discover his adversary was shooting arrows coated in the poison of “40% truth.” I half-expected the dude to announce to Vienna that “Any further criticism of Jake** will result in your immediate strangulation.” Indeed, other than that winning bon mot about Vienna being “like a tabloid,” Jake came off as relentlessly creepy: The way he addressed all his answers to Chris Harrison (not Vienna), the way he spoke about Vienna like a disappointed boss rather than a scorned lover (how about griping she’d participated in an “unauthorized interview”!?), and the way he chanted the words “undermines,” “emasculates,” and “disrespects” like he’d spent two sleep-deprived weeks in a new-age spa praying that his failed fake TV relationship wouldn’t cost him any awesome future gigs on Drop Dead Diva. By the time he shouted “Be quiet while I’m talking!,” I wondered if Vienna fled the scene in tears because of the harshness of his words, or the eeriness of what was going on behind his eyes.

I don't care how terrible she is--it really bothers me to see someone disrespect another human being the way he disrespects her.  Eeeeesh.

Oh, and in other progressive Bachelorette news, check out this quote from Ty (to Ali): ''I think it's awesome that you have ambitions and goals.... It tickles me to death that you have a plan, that you know what you want.''
From EW's Jennifer Armstrong: "Gee, thanks, Ty. Glad my adorable little ambitions amuse you so."

Also, Bachelor/Bachelorette whiteness update, it appears all the contestants on Ali's season are indeed white!

Celebrities are full of surprises: Jessica Simpson re-emerges as likeable, well-adjusted woman

I used to think Jessica Simpson was the antithesis of feminism. I despised her "I'm dumb, isn't it cute?" persona, which she admitted was just that, an affected personality for the purpose of getting others to like her. Her father once said her perfect looks and perfect voice were too much for people, she needed to act dumb to seem less intimidating. Writing for my college newspaper, I said I feared Simpson's celebrity foretold "a world where to be popular, a woman should be all things but remarkable."

But as much as Simpson's fake ordinariness rankled me then, it's her real ordinariness that I find charming now. Simpson has fought back against the haters who criticized her weight cruelly and relentlessly not by appearing looking stunning on the cover of US Weekly (well, there was that Vanity Fair shoot), but by being herself, insisting she has a right to do just that, and thinking about the broader implications of the war over her size. I found her appearance on Oprah remarkably thoughtful and well-adjusted, and was delighted when she teased David Letterman for "making it all about the boys" during her visit to his show.

Simpson's new reality show certainly has problems of its own, but it's an interesting effort with its heart in the right place. Similarly, although I think stars appearing without makeup is something of a gimmick, I nonetheless think it's a more thoughtful gimmick than stars airbrushed within an inch of their lives selling workout tips. As such, I appreciate Simpson's appearance in Marie Claire makeup and airbrush free, although I wish more of the quotes in the resulting photo spread were of this variety: "I don't have anything to prove anymore. What other people think of me is not my business." Than this one: "People think updos are so hard, but they're not. Your hair should look tousled and undone."

I don't think Jessica is perfect. I don't think she's now some kind of feminist ideal. I think her, and her new way of presenting herself to the public, are a work in progress. But, it's an increasingly interesting type of progress, and one that I'm glad to have buzzing around pop culture land in place of giggling malapropisms and daisy dukes.

Jaime Oliver's Food Revolution is inspiring and maddening all at once

Jaime Oliver took on the British school food system, and won. He managed to get British schools serving healthier, fresher meals country-wide, and I'm sure the health of school children in the UK is better for it. However, it's telling that all of Oliver's efforts were scrupulously documented for hit TV series. On one hand, Oliver is the ultimate modern idealist: a David of nutrition against the Goliath agro-industrial food industry. On the other, he's the ultimate modern cynic: a natural performer who wants to create big social change, as long as the camera gets all of his best angles (in a scene at the end of yesterday's show, Oliver cries crocodile tears over the people of Huntington not understanding how much he cares. This Washington Post article sums it up: "[Oliver is] afflicted with the kind of warm-hearted caring that requires the constant presence of a TV crew."). If Oliver's new effort to put healthier food in US schools is successful, the latter won't seem so important. But if all that Oliver gets out of this is a season of good TV, I'll wonder whether there wasn't a better way to create change.

Kelly Cutrone: Bringing the Power of the “Ancient Feminine” Back

I just finished reading Kelly Cutrone’s If You Have to Cry, Go Outside and Other Things Your Mother Never Told You and was pleasantly surprised by how inspiring and motivating her coming of age and rise to power story is. Expecting this to be the wanna-be PR girl’s handbook, I was also surprised by how universal her message is. Kelly Cutrone is the founder of fashion public relations, branding and marketing company People’s Revolution. You may have seen her using her tongue as a lethal weapon doling out brutal truths to employees and clients and pulling rank on a number of sobbing interns on shows like The Hills, The City or her new Bravo series Kell on Earth. Cutrone is the leader of the New York PR power-girl pack and serves as “Mama Wolf” over all twenty-something fashion girls who dream of one day rubbing elbows backstage with the likes of Jeremy Scott or Vivienne Westwood. If You Have to Cry…is her no-bullshit how-to guide to making it in New York’s crushing and soul-stealing fashion publicity world. I’m not a fashionista, nor am I looking for a New York Fashion Week internship. I’m just a health policy consultant with a reality-TV addiction who has found Cutrone interesting since first seeing her mentor Whitney Port and Lauren Conrad on The Hills. I wanted a little insight into her and her industry. I also thought “this woman is completely balls-out crazy on TV—she must have an interesting story to tell and I sure need some entertainment on this long-ass bus ride I’m about to take!” Six hours and 197 pages later I had laughed, cried, furiously scribbled notes in the margins, and had recalculated an old resolve.

Forget Vienna, the real controversy on The Bachelor is...

Why is everyone white?  I have seriously just noticed this, mainly because I stopped watching Sassafras's favorite guilty pleasure after the tire guy (Andrew Firestone), but it turns out that after 14 seasons of The Bachelor and 6 seasons of The Bachelorette (Ali Fedotowsky was just announced as the latest one), our friends at ABC have been unable to locate a single non-caucasian man or woman to star.  As a result, The Bachelor and The Bachelorette are two of the whitest shows on television.  Not only is the star always white, but so is the host, and so, by nature of our society's continued discomfort with interracial dating, are almost all of the suitors.  The all-white star phenomenon then becomes a self-perpetuating cycle, because the newest star is usually picked from one of the nearly rejected contestants, who are all themselves white.  We have a black president, people.  This has got to stop.  America is a mulit-ethnic nation, and if I don't see someone whose tan doesn't come from the california sun or a bottle on my TV, stat, ABC is going on the femonomics blacklist. 

Now, simply choosing a black (or hispanic, or middle eastern, or asian, or south asian, or mixed race) star would certainly not remedy the problem.  In fact, it would likely only highlight it, since naturally ABC would never reverse the formula and stock this cast with all people the same race as the star (that would make The Bachelor a "niche" show, they would say).  Nonetheless, at least we would have taken a small, token step toward inclusiveness.  I know The Bachelor is ridiculous, that the formula of trying to find love in a couple months with 25 strangers is nonsense, and that we have bigger representation problems than television.  You can tell me all that, and yet it still enrages me how white this show is.  So ABC, you're on notice.

What do you think?  Does it bother you that The Bachelor and The Bachelorette haven't gotten the inclusiveness memo, or do we have way bigger things to worry about?

The Buried Life: Doing Good Everyday

It’s that time of year when facebook statuses and twitter feeds and conversations are populated with what people are giving up for Lent. Although I am not a religious person, I think the idea to focus on being a better person is invaluable (why it only happens once a year and not year round is another matter). And, lately, I have been inspired to give back and help others not because of whatever religious season it is, but because of a reality TV show (go figure!): The Buried Life.

It’s not a sweeping guilty pleasure phenomenon like fellow MTV show The Jersey Shore; it’s not the highest watched show on television like American Idol; it’s not even Tuesday morning water cooler fodder like The Bachelor. It’s an underappreciated show about not only crossing things off your own bucket list, but also helping others do the same on theirs. In a culture where people push themselves to be the best at everything and focus their efforts, time, and money on themselves, this show is a throwback to the basic teachings everyone is ingrained with in kindergarten: share and help one another.

(Millionaire) Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me A Match

Patty Stanger, founder and CEO of The Millionaire’s Club, is a firecracker. I have some questions and reservations about the value of a dating service that hooks up single male millionaires (and on occasion, a female) from all around the country with PYTs in Los Angeles, but I also have to give Patty props. I mean, it is obviously entertaining—Bravo’s The Millionaire Matchmaker is a smash hit. And it is apparently very lucrative.

Are you too busy hopping about in your private jet from boardroom to private estate to just ask a girl/guy out to dinner Saturday night? Are you afraid that those Armani suits are only attracting gold diggers? Well, Patty will take the guess work out of the dating game and deliver the meat market to you…for a LARGE fee. These ain’t Match.com/eharmony prices. For $20,000, and on up there, she’ll bring you sea of average intelligence hot girls in stilettos and push up bras, which is her makeover recommendation for every “average Annie” and aspiring model that shows up at her agency hoping to get an invite to an exclusive meet and greet for the chance to snag a millionaire. Seriously, WTF?

We All Need a Guilty Pleasure...or Two

One of my many guilty pleasures happens to be reality television. One of my favorites is The Bachelor. Reading NY Mag's post about last night's premiere got me thinking...I initially scoffed at the premise of the show. 25 women all competing for a husband? Really? I secretly poked fun at my college friends who gushed over the rose ceremonies. And then I watched an episode. I was fascinated by the “I’m just looking for love” shtick, the drama, the sexy one-on-one dates, and eventually I was emotionally invested in the characters…I mean…the contestants…I mean…who or what are they, those women of The Bachelor? In this day and age of women’s independence and equality I watch the show and am overwhelmed by the portrayal of women as beautiful, sexual objects who are desperate for a husband. Sure they throw the “intelligent woman” or “career woman” in the mix, but even they are portrayed as slightly desperate for a man. (Like last night's premiere where the woman who is getting her PhD dresses up in a somewhat skimpy stewardess costume so Jake the pilot would give her a chance at love). They’re all catty and willing to push the other women under the bus just to get the coveted rose (remember Lauren from Jason’s season?? Gossiping about all the other women to make herself look better.) I mean, how can you take these supposedly progressive, modern day women seriously when they say things like, “You can land your plane on my landing strip anytime” while emphasizing their mile-long cleavages? Then the twist—The Bachelorette. Now men are all jumping for the chance to be with the woman. We see the men as competitive, insecure, and at times, vulnerable. Perhaps it evened the playing field a bit and perhaps it is still slightly projecting the woman-needing-a-man-to-be-complete idea into the mind of millions of viewers. It’s all in the eye of the beholder.