Bret Michaels is going to attempt to rock for some more love.
TV Stevie didn't make it through the Sweet 16 movie, but was delighted to see that "Rowdy" Roddy Piper had a role in the film. 
Email TV StevieIt's clear that a more reputable TV columnist would take the opportunity of today's column to write about the much-ballyhooed Emmy nominations. But I'm far from reputable, and I really couldn't care less about the Emmy noms. I also have to assume that all 13 people who read this column on a regular basis agree with my ideology (at least to a degree) and also couldn't give a crap about any awards show that doesn't involve Mike Myers reuniting with Dana Carvey taking a trip in the old Delorean back to 1992 for a reprisal of Wayne's World.
So let's just ignore the Emmy nominations. I combed through them and was quite unimpressed by almost every decision, and the fact remains that there were perhaps four shows from the past year (Dexter, 30 Rock, Mad Men, The Tudors, The Office and perhaps Flight of the Conchords) that even approached worthiness for an award. Producers of the other 6,002 shows are probably more deserving of a horse-whipping than a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
I mean, seriously, how can anybody care about an awards show that provides a trophy for something like "Outstanding Hairstyling For a Multi-Camera Series or Special"? It's not possible, and anyone who pretends that they care isn't just lying to themselves, but also making it possible for celebrities to prance around a red carpet while Joan Rivers (or, more recently, a faux-Joan Rivers) ask them who they're wearing.
No, I consider this to be insanity, and I won't be a party to it. I won't watch the Emmys, and, after this paragraph, won't mention them again until next year, when I once again bring up how much I dislike the entire process and once again take the opportunity to throw a few jabs at Hollywood from the comfort of my office in Toronto.
A more pressing matter involves our society's ongoing obsession with reality television, despite the fact that it's becoming more unreal than ever before.
Look, I'm not entirely naïve. I understand that "Reality TV" is only a label, and that it doesn't have anything more to do with reality than the unicorn that galloped through my backyard at 3 AM on Wednesday night. Normally, I'd say "whatever," and just tell people that there's no reason we should even bother with this nonsense, even though I'm as guilty as anyone for watching a ton of reality television (for the purpose of comedic irony and this job only, of course). But it's getting harder and harder to turn the other cheek to a genre that continues to explode before our very eyes.
According to David Lyle, president of the Fox Reality Channel (a channel that is inexplicably unavailable in Canada, by the way), the next 365 days (one full year for those scoring at home) will see the debut of 172 (!!!!) new reality shows on network TV and cable. 172...not 72...72 plus 100. Pardon me as I pause to clean up the blood that started spurting out of my eyes as I thought about that number.
An early version of a famous wig.
It's the hybrid reality-celebrity-entertainment programming that concerns me. I know that most intelligent people can appreciate these shows on an ironic level without sustaining any significant brain damage. But the majority of people aren't intelligent (if you don't believe, just watch five minutes of Cops), and they're actually believing that these shows have something in common with reality. Since I'm not really a qualified sociologist (despite scoring a semi-solid B-minus in a first-year soc course), I can't definitively say how these shows are damaging society as a whole, but I truly believe that the effects aren't good.
The fakeness of reality television probably isn't a probem for most people. For people like me, however, it is a problem, because I view television as a meaningful prism through which I can potentially gain a greater understanding of real life. And, while I certainly don't expect television to be honest, close to honest, or even to display any qualities that resemble honesty (even in passing), I'd appreciate it if TV could at least be honest about its dishonesty. I wouldn't mind if reality TV pretended to be real as long as it could admit it was pretending.
I bring this up only because I recently got wind of the news that Bret Michaels is returning for a third attempt at finding his soul mate on Rock of Love 3, and he broke up with his girlfriend to make it happen.
At this point, it's clear that Michaels is a scumbag. In fact, that was obvious at the 30-second mark of the first season. He's doing this show to gain some sort of relevance, to have sex with strippers before ending their tour of love, and to "earn" a paycheque. Apparently, residuals from "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" aren't what they used to be.
The mystery of Rock of Love, as far as I'm concerned, is that producers have somehow managed to find three season's worth of skanks willing to touch Michaels and adopt his cornucopia of STDs. Do they actually have affection for Michaels, or is the lure of being on television enough to have women vie for the love of a man who could never love anyone as much as he loves eyeliner? This confuses me.
But a third season of Rock of Love!? It's like The Bachelor, only if ABC cast the same creepy dude to be the bachelor season after season. Would we really believe that the man's search for love was sincere? Do people even care about sincerity anymore?
Ambre Lake, who "won" Rock of Love 2, is pretending that her relationship with Michaels was actually real at some point, and is also pretending that she's heartbroken over their split, despite the fact that she's encouraging people to watch the third season.
I don't know about you, but if I just went through a painful breakup, I probably wouldn't be so into having people watch a show about my ex searching for a replacement. Does that sound like something that any real or semi-real person would ever do? Does this give off the impression that any part of any season of Rock of Love was anything more than a grab at cash and fame? I think not.
Ramsay should've stuck to Kitchen Nightmares.
[Note: Within this new framework of TV classification, shows like Survivor and Amazing Race can be called "serial game shows," while shows like Deal or No Deal can be referred to as "in-studio game shows." Let's just leave "reality" out of this entirely.]
With all that freshly swirling about in my cranium, allow me to present a list of the top five fakest stars on reality television (excluding Bret Michaels, only because I can't write about him anymore without wretching, and wretching can cause poor spelling when combined with typing).
5. Gordon Ramsay (Hell's Kitchen version)
I'm a huge fan of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, so much so that I've actually sat through two full seasons of Hell's Kitchen despite not really enjoying one minute of it. On Nightmares, Ramsay is about as real as it gets for semi-scripted programming. He gets upsets and throws temper tantrums, but only when they're warranted. He's actually there to help people with their failing restaurants, and he seems truly sincere in his attempts to do so. The man is positively affable.
But the version of Ramsay seen on Hell's Kitchen is a completely different story, and the more I watch the show, the more tired his act becomes. To put it bluntly, this show is completely rigged, and Ramsay certainly doesn't care who comes out on top, except for the effect that decision will have on ratings. Whichever chef is chosen will get a job as executive chef at some new restaurant Ramsay is launching, but, other than cashing a fat cheque (no doubt written by the network) and facing his or her face in the dining room from time to time, there's a zero percent chance that the winner will be given any legitimate responsibility. At least not right away.
And, in addition to the show being quite fake, Ramsay himself fakes it up to a nauseating degree. He's constantly yelling at everybody in an attempt to make someone cry, and the winners of every challenge are chosen based on which decision would create the most drama. I get the distinct feeling that when the cameras finally turn off, Ramsay feels compelled to apologize to whoever he just yelled at while telling them not to take the whole thing seriously.
Only in America could Britain's most sincere reality star be corrupted so completely.
4. Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, and anyone from The Real World (tie)
The Simple Life, along with Newlyweds, sparked the concept of fake reality programming, as far as I can tell. Paris and Nicole were at the forefront of the movement, one that saw people not caring how stupid or fake a show was, as long as it was on TV (and, in the case of Newlyweds, as long as it involved a blond with big boobs).
Twit and twitter.
3. Jonny Fairplay and Omarosa (tie)
It's actually somewhat impressive that Fairplay and Omarosa both participated in the creation of a concept that's become what's now known as the reality TV villain. It's quite ingenious, to be honest, and you have to hand it to them for extending their 15 minutes into several years. I can respect that. They are innovators.
Yet, despite my admiration, on another level I despise them completely, because their actions on Survivor and The Apprentice paved the way for countless others to appear on reality television while playing a predetermined and premeditated character. They were both on the ground floor of turning the genre into something lesser than what it was meant to be, and although it made them both a vast pile of cash (I imagine), it prompted dozens of others to look like morons on television. And it almost made Janice Dickinson commit a homicide on The Surreal Life. Of course, if it had happened, that would have been truly awesome.
2. Flavor Flav
In real life, Flavor Flav is probably a decent guy. I suppose he loves every one of his 18 kids from 18 mothers, and even does his best to pay child support to at least three or four of them. Nevertheless, when it comes to reality television, Flav is both fake and ridiculous.
At this point, Flav has been featured in no fewer than five seasons of reality television, four of which were entirely devoted to his search for love. After appearing on The Surreal Life and cultivating a relationship with Brigitte Nielsen (although that was most likely rigged as well), the two starred in Strange Love, before Nielsen decided to rededicate herself to passing out drunk on a nightly basis, leaving the former Public Enemy drummer to find his next baby mama on three infuriating seasons of Flavor of Love.
The prized catch of reality television?
1. Tila Tequila
In the history of TV, there has never been a less talented, faker (in body, hair and personality), and more not-gay-despite-claiming-that-she-is-gay nitwit than Tila Tequila. In fact, if she wasn't starring on endless seasons of A Shot at Love, she'd no doubt be available for a "date" via the back pages of NOW magazine as we speak.
It's hard to describe how intensely I dislike Tila Tequila, but when she was turned down by her prospective girlfriend at the end of season two, I found every fibre of my being wishing that reality TV was actually being real, if only just this once. Sadly, Tila Tequila can only cry crocodile tears. Boo hoo.
Dishonourable mention:
Heidi and Spencer - It's hard to get too down on these two dolts because they're so unabashedly fake that it's actually amusing. However, they're clearly the fakest reality characters ever, to the point that they're probably the only two dummies who set up "spontaneous" photo shoots with Us magazine on a weekly basis. They're phoney, they're obvious about it, they're famous, and they're rich, and if you're anything like me, you'd like to see them both take a long walk off a short pier. I just couldn't bump Tila Tequila out of the top spot. She's number one.
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