In the outside chance there still exists a pocket of backwoods-dwelling clodhoppers who have yet to learn of Jessica Seinfeld's bestselling cookbook Deceptively Delicious, the wife of Bee Movie mogul Jerry Seinfeld appeared on The View today to further outline her methods of veggie-disguising culinary tricksiness.
A year ago, the 13-year-old Megan Meier began an online relationship with another MySpace user named Josh Evans. According to reports, the relationship began with flirtation, but ended in tragedy. Evans's last message to Meier read, "The world would be a better place without you." Shortly after reading it, Megan Meier ended her own life. You could call Josh Evans a cyberbully, except that Josh Evans wasn't real. He was a creation of Meier's neighbors, Curt and Lori Drew.
"Why do we blog? We blog to exist," Dylan Kreiger told us in episode one of Quarterlife, your favorite Web TV show from real TV show Thirtysomething creators Marshall Herskovitz and Edward Zick. And now we know why Herskovitz and Zick produce: They produce to exist. On network TV.
When Viacom sued Google for $1 billion, it put a pretty big price tag on the value of distributing its content over the Internet. Now Viacom and other studios refuse to negotiate with their writers over how much they should be compensated when content hits the Web. Why? Because it's too early to tell how much its worth. Just like they do with politicians every night, The Daily Show's writers sniffed out the inconsistencies and put together this clip. Oh, that man holding the sign with a strategically placed finger? We hear it's former Business 2.0 editor Tim Carvell, one of the originators of the deceased magazine's "101 Dumbest Moments" franchise.
You know, it's real easy for the press to sit back and mock Apple fanboys. But though the cult of Jobs doesn't require the worship of zombies and the ceremonial consumption of divine flesh as do more popular cults, its rites of passage can be just as trying for the devoted. On this point, Fox's MadTV eloquently elaborates in music and lyrics.
We were too psyched about the premiere of Project Runway (wrongly it turns out) to really notice this week's episode of CBS' morally weird show Kid Nation. But we've been flooded by emails asking what in the world Sophia
said to Guylan that CBS not only had to bleep it but also blur her sweet mouth? A little context is needed.
The breakout contestant of episode one would undoubtedly be resident kook Elisa, who "imbued" her expensive fabric with intentional grass stains, "hand-measured" her models (sure to be a commonly used defense from now on in designer rape trials), and who sent something down the runway that looked, to quote one party guest, like "a blue sack that shit the NBC logo out its back." Sadly, when it came down to Elisa's peacock poop or Simone's "boring, poorly made, no 'wow!'" outfit, as Michael Kors put it, the decision was all too easy: On Runway, the crazies always win.
The quality of the footage is, to be charitable, shitty; still, that won't stop fans desperate to devour any morsel they allegedly aren't supposed to be gobbling down until tomorrow from scouring the video frame by frame, hoping that somewhere in those blurry shadows lies the utterly terrifying truth about the nature of the cinematic beast Abrams and company will unleash up on the world in January.
Between her recent canine custody battles and the contempt of her fellow striking WGA members, there's no question about it—Ellen DeGeneres has had a go of it lately. In this confessional monologue from yesterday's broadcast, a dejected DeGeneres recalls the time an officer offered some kind of words of fashion-police support during her darkest hour, inspiring her to the Gucci-tuxedo-wearing, Oscar-hosting heights to come. In doing so, she reminds us—and herself—that even in those moments when it seems like everyone you work with and deal with on a daily basis can't stand you, that too shall pass.
A British journalist attempts to ask Apple executive Phil Schiller a question about the effective iTunes monopoly on downloads for the iPhone. Apple's PR people jump in and try to end the interview, saying how they're "excited" about the iPhone and "want to stay focused." The problem? Their body language betrays them. This is why Apple is really screwed if it ever loses Steve Jobs: He's the only guy at Apple who can actually pull off this act and handle the press convincingly while parroting the party line. Everyone else at Apple who's even allowed to speak to reporters just ends up looking robotically defensive when they try to erect a Jobsian reality-distortion field.
Writers for The Daily Show—for us, at least, the single biggest hole that's been blown in the TV schedule thus far—are refusing to be slowed by their temporary lack of an indoor studio, regular host, and Comedy Central-financed production values, producing a strike-altered version of the program on the streets of NY.
Video boy Alex Goldberg and I headed up to the Upper East Side yesterday just as school was getting out and guess what: a bunch of kilted maidens were thronged on the corner of 86th and Fifth, watching the actress who plays Serena Van Der Woodsen repeatedly exit a building and disrupting the shoot with their camerphones' flashes! We asked them what they like so much about the show, and whether they would consider dating a boy who lives in Williamsburg a "long-distance relationship." (A: yes.)
· Continuing in the proud tradition of investigative journalism that's yielded penetrating reports on in the parking lots of local clubs, TMZ TV goes deep inside the world of Hollywood tour guides who could be better informed about the sights on their bus routes.
· Harvey Weinstein denies being a DJ-battering badass willing to throw down to defend the honor of a female companion.
·The author of Rosemary's Baby has passed.
· GSN is happily promoting itself as "The Other Strike-Proof Basic Cable Network."
· The first pics of Winona Ryder's son have made it online.
Your guess is as good as ours as to what might have possessed a rapidly unraveling Barbara Walters to don a batskin raincoat from The Dominatrix Barn and precious else on The View, then reveal her purely nonlesbian impulse to gawk at any unclothed female bodies she might encounter while lingering in the dimly lit corners of her favorite spas and ladies clubs. We're certain there's some logical explanation for all this that can be directly tied to estrogen-therapy-induced dementia, but we think just this once we'll simply choose not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Are we right, fellas?
If there's one potentially happy side-effect of the strike-hobbled, reality-TV-riddled primetime schedules that will soon be necessitated by the writers strike's shutdown of the script pipeline, it's that Richard Simmons will probably enjoy a much-deserved career resurgence as his personal services become coveted by producers desperate for a hit from the stunt-cameo crackpipe.
