Rehab Is the New Black

I was innocently perusing blogs yesterday, whistling and humming, flowery thoughts fluttering around my head like so many blithe bluebirds, when TMZ.com effed it all up. Well, to be fair, it wasn’t TMZ’s fault but rather the onus of one Mr. Steven Slater. In case you are unlike me and his name doesn’t send you into snarling seizures, I’ll remind you: Slater is the former Jet Blue flight attendant who became a folk hero last month after he quit his job by sliding down an airplane’s emergency chute with a beer in each hand. He was arrested for reckless endangerment before hiring an agent and fielding reality TV show offers. Well, on Tuesday, Slater appeared in court to face the charges and a possible seven year prison sentence. TMZ was the first to report that Slater’s attorney asked the D.A. to reduce the charges if Slater voluntarily checks into rehab. REHAB? Is there addiction treatment for shameless famewhores? Some sort of jackass 12-step program? I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Steven Slater is only the latest in a string of public figures to abuse rehab -- which is pretty twisted. Think about it. We now need rehab for rehab.

Steven Slater follows a long list of offenders, criminal and domestic, who have used quick stints in rehab to get out of trouble. Tiger Woods comes to mind, of course. He’s in the “I’m not a cheater; I’m an addict” club with Jesse James, David Duchovny, Eric Benet (Halle Berry’s ex), and Michael Douglas, to name a few. And then there’s Charlie Sheen, who recently went to the very posh Promises rehab resort -- instead of jail -- after assaulting his wife. Kate Moss did 30 days in rehab some years ago after being photographed doing cocaine and was back to snorting and drinking within days of checking out. It’s pretty convenient to spin one’s character flaws and mistakes into addictions. “I’m sorry, your honor, but I’m addicted to speeding.” “Honey, it’s not my fault. Sleeping with your friends is my drug. I need help!” See? Pretty easy, right? Unfortunately, it’s hard to believe that 30 days of group therapy can remedy Slater’s narcissism, James’s lack of self-control, and Sheen’s well-documented habit of abusing women. And what happened to the days when people didn’t want to go to rehab? Seems to me it’s all the rage now. And while it is my policy to blame Miley Cyrus for everything, I have to let her off the hook this time. I’ll tell you whom I do blame, though: Dr. Drew.

I love Dr. Drew. I do. So this hurts. I’ve loved him since the early days of “Loveline,” and I have been known to poke holes in myself and marinate in “Celebrity Rehab,” if only for the silver-haired, bespectacled, soft-talking doc. There is no denying that Drew has destigmatized addiction and rehab. And that’s great in a lot of ways. As someone who has been to rehab (no, not for drugs; if you want to know why, you can read about it here), of course I believe that one should never be ashamed to get help. But it’s gone off the rails. Lesser known celebrities are using “Celebrity Rehab” to be seen (I’m talking about you, Rachel Uchitel), and Drew’s tendency to celebrate the addict has made the title more of a badge than a diagnosis. And, again, that’s great – for REAL addicts who want help. But attending rehab after endangering a plane full of people to get oneself in the news is not an inspiring story of recovery. It’s a greedy, pathetic act born of a culture that thinks that the Kardashians deserve a TV show.

Interestingly, while Dr. Drew has fueled the fame-by-fake-addiction flames, he is also one of the few to explain properly the problem at the root of the fire. In his book The Mirror Effect: How Celebrity Narcissism Is Seducing America, Pinsky calls today’s obsession with fame --  “supernarcissism” -- a public health crisis. Of course, the irony here is pretty rich, considering Drew himself seems to love the limelight, but that’s another column. The New York Times Magazine ran a cover story on Pinsky last year that detailed his new diagnosis. In the article, “Hitting Bottom,” Chris Norris writes, “This emerging strain of supernarcissism...turns especially virulent in the world of social media, where young people, who are chasing an increasingly accessible type of fame, begin to mirror the increasingly pathological behavior of their idols…This, Pinksy says, is the real sickness.”

Sick indeed. It’s almost hard to blame Steven Slater when you look at the big picture. Almost. He’s still a jerk. But the world around him promotes this new notoriety, this attention-at-all-costs behavior that favors fame over dignity. Watch almost any reality show, read almost any tabloid; the examples are too many to count. What’s most worrisome, though, is not that Steven Slater is going to get paid for a People cover story about his rehab stint, but that a very delicate, personal, and critical medical intervention is now the equivalent of an appearance on “The Real World.” How many fake rehab stays can the mental health care industry accommodate before the whole system becomes a farce? Real addiction is hard enough to fight. What are we going to do when we have a nation of people addicted to addiction? Well, I know what I’m going to do. I’m calling Dr. Drew.

Wahler Explains It All

I'm not going to lie. I watch "Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew." I have my reasons; you needn't concern yourself with them. Anyway, last night I had poked holes in myself and was marinating in Drew's empathy when Jason Wahler (formerly of 'The Hills," bar fights, and numerous DUIs) emerged from the famewhore background as the Prophet of The Pasadena Recovery Center. Let me set the scene: It's group therapy. Rachel Uchitel, Tiger's $10 million whore, had ditched rehab, leaving Jason Davis (billionaire oil heir and personal hygiene failure), Jeremy London (formerly of "Party of Five" and the recent fabrication that he was kidnapped and forced to smoke crack), Eric Roberts (just a really great actor, unfortunately), and Leif Garett (former teen heartthrob with a devastating heroin addition) in complete despair. Upon beginning the session, Dr. Drew announced that Rachel would be returning. Janice Dickinson (formerly of ANTM and endless public displays of pathology), as if on cue, consequently had a full-on meltdown, half because of benzodiazepine withdrawal and half because she can't bear the attention the boys give Rachel. She was literally shaking and screaming like, well, like a delusional drug addict in rehab. Soon, everyone was yelling, Janice was screeching, Drew was tilting his head and understanding, and the boys were out of their seats in anxious but giddy testosterone-fueled blue-balled impatience, when, in the midst of all the chaos, Jason Wahler came out with this:

"I've been to 8 rehabs and I've never seen anything like this in my life."

And there you have it. Well done, Janice, Rachel, Jason, Jason, Eric, and Leif. Well done.

Health Care, Exploitation, Same Difference

I've been trying really hard to ignore this whole Honey Boo-Boo thing, but leave it to Dr. Drew to make that impossible. Yesterday, Drew interviewed the 7 year-old on his eponymous talk show, and the poor kid resorted to faking sleep to try to communicate to the negligent adults around her that she is fucking tired of being whored out. And just in case that didn't get the point across, when Drew asked Alana (yeah, she actually has a name) if it's hard to be on TV, she answered, "Fans come up to me and I hate it." I'm not going to get into the crime that is this poor girl's parenting, so let's just focus on Drew for a minute. This is the DOCTOR who brought us Celebrity Rehab, a show ostensibly about helping barely famous addicts but that was really about showcasing Drew's abjectly unethical behavior. For the record, four Celebrity Rehab alums have died since taping the show. I guess making worse the lives of long-suffering adults got old for Dr. Pinksy, so he's started profiting from the demoralization of children. I mean, that's the logical next step for anyone in a helping profession, right? I think if Drew teaches us anything, it's that the whole Hippocratic Oath thing is a total joke. Harm, shmarm: let's make some money! Whoot! 

[Radar]

How Much Fame Could A Famewhore Whore If A Famewhore Could Whore Fame, Volume 8

"She is devastated ... in worse shape now than when she went in." - Tareq Salahi, one half of the infamous White House Party Crashing team, about his wife, Michaele. You might remember them from "The Real Housewives of DC" and related, ridiculous press stunts. Tareq tells People magazine that Michaele's "devastation" results from being cut from the upcoming cast of "Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew". Why was she cut? Because she doesn't have a substance abuse or addiction issue. Rather, according to Tareq, Michaele joined the cast to have Dr. Drew "help treat her [multiple sclerosis], which has been directly affected by our ordeal with the White House. What she needs is help managing her stress and her illness." Okay, MS is a horrible, nightmarish, affliction that no one deserves to endure. That said, it was bad enough when perennial favorite Rachel Uchitel milked the "Celebrity Rehab" scene with her "addiction to love," but, come on. Michaele needs a neurologist, a shrink, and a life: not rehab. Second of all, nobody actually gets better on Celebrity Rehab. Duh. I mean, call me crazy, but if I were suffering a severe, degenerative disease, I think I'd choose a medical facility that doesn't open every treatment session with a montage of dead people set to a bad pop ballad. Just saying.

How Much Fame Could A Famewhore Whore If A Famewhore Could Whore Fame, Volume 7

Say it isn't so, Dr. Drew. Please?

I have held on to "Celebrity Rehab" like Ashton Kutcher to Demi Moore, always wanting to believe that it's more than just a famewhore factory. Alas, now I have to rethink my DVR queue. Multiple reports confirm that Michael Lohan and White House party crashers/"Real Housewives Of DC" cast members Michaele and Tareq Salahi will appear on the upcoming season of Drew's televised fake rehab. Um, Michael Lohan is supposedly sober, and I'm not sure what Michaele Salahi is addicted to besides lying, but whatever. Obviously the only thing getting clean in this show is the pool.

For more on my love/hate relationship with Dr. Pinsky, read "Rehab Is The New Black."

Quick And Dirty

Winona taught her this one: According to "a law enforcement source who has intimate knowledge of the surveillance video" (which makes it sound as if the source has some weird VHS sex fetish), the tape from the jewelry store from which Lindsay Lohan allegedly stole a necklace shows that after Lilo put on the bauble, her male friend distracted the sales associate so that Linds could slip out with the necklace on. Says the dirty cop -- I mean source, "This simply wasn't a case of miscommunication of a necklace being loaned and not returned, as Lindsay has claimed." SHOCKING! Nonetheless, I'm still Team Lindsay. What's a little felony between friends? [RadarOnline]

Of course she did: Amber Portwood, of MTV's "Teen Mom," has leaked nude photos of herself. Well, okay, nude photos have been leaked of Amber Portwood. Fine. You say tomato, I say she's a shameless unfit mother famewhore. Anyway, if you hate yourself, you can see the photos at the link. [Egotastic]

But have you seen Drew's biceps?: Jason Davis, oil heir turned tragedy and star of last season's "Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew" has been charged with felony possession of a controlled substance, being under the influence of a controlled substance (heroin and a narcotic), and possessing drug paraphernalia stemming from his arrest last month. Which is weird, because one would think that a couple months in televised, fake rehab would end a lifelong bout with depression and addiction. [TMZ]

How can I put this? Oh yeah: Shut the f*ck up: Kanye West, on Twitter this morning: "an abortion can cost a ballin' nigga up to 50gs maybe a 100. Gold diggin' bitches be getting pregnant on purpose. #STRAPUP my niggas!" "Strap up" is great advice, Westie, but I'm curious: how much does abortion cost a nigga who's not ballin'? Just wondering. [Jezebel]

Dante's Fourth Circle Of Famewhore Hell

As you might recall, Lindsay Lohan is currently embroiled in a fight to stay out of jail in the face of a grand felony theft charge as well as several probation violations. While she struggles to maintain her sobriety and stay afloat, her parents are busy securing their next meal tickets. Momma Lohan is busy promoting Lindsay's brother's new film, and Poppa Lohan has been working some crazy famewhore overtime. Having ended his bromance with Jon Gosselin and consequent engagement to Gosselin's ex, Kate Major, Michael is now busy filming the upcoming season of "Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew." And when he isn't faking an addiction or blathering bullshit about Lindsay to the press, he's keeping himself busy with the ladies. In the photo above, we see PoppaLo swapping spit with Kim Granatell from "The Real Housewives of New Jersey." That's right. Michael Lohan and a Real Housewife. Look, all I'm going to say is this: If I were Lindsay, I'd be chugging Kombucha, too. Oh, and one last thing: nice coat, Kimmie. Jackass.

Photo (with doodle) via PerezHilton.com

Trainwreck 2011 [UPDATED]

Oy vey, Lohans.

The facts: today is Lindsay's last day to cop a plea bargain in the grand felony theft case against her. She has been informed several times that since a plea bargain is an admission of guilt, she will do jail time. Lindsay has thus far refused to take a deal; if she doesn't, her case will be heard before a new, allegedly tougher judge Stephanie Sautner.

One can imagine, whether on Lilo's side or not, what an intense day this is for the girl. Right?

Add to the scene Lindsay's asshat of a father, Michael Lohan, who is currently filming "Celebrity Rehab" and plans to bring the cameras to Lindsay's day in court -- depsite Lindsay's objections, of course. Just step back for a minute and consider the scene:

A former child star, who was fed to the Hollywood wolves by two of the most narcissistic and famewhoring parents ever, is built up and torn down by the media while resorting to drugs in the absence of any real support system and finds herself facing jail time as she battles to stay sober. While her mom focuses on her next meal ticket -- Lindsay's brother's movie career -- her father signs on to a fake rehab reality show citing anger management issues and then decides to film Lindsay's demise from the lens of his own self-absorbed delusional psychosis.

All to say: TEAM LINDSAY. Work it out, girl. I don't know how you do it, but work it out. I feel you, sister. *fist pump*

UPDATE: Lilo said Hell No to a plea and will be tried for grand felony theft. Her preliminary trial will happen on April 22.

UPDATE #2: Despite getting the okay from Dr. Drew (WTF, dude?), Poppa Lohan did NOT show up at court at all -- no Celebrity Rehab cameras, no Michael. No word on whether MLo made the decision himself or if Lindsay's lawyers were able to block the cameras. Let's hope it's the latter. Even though it's the former.

This Is Not What You Want to Be When You Grow Up

Back in April, blogs were buzzing with the news that Justin Sisely, an Australian filmmaker, was filming a reality show on which contestants sell their virginity to the highest bidder. Each virgin would be paid $20,000 plus 90% of their, um, sale price. The other 10% would go to the brothel where the show is filmed, of course. You know; that’s how all the brothels do it. When the Australian government got wind of the plan, they told Sisely he’d face prostitution charges if he filmed the show there. Fortunately, the good old USA came to Sisely’s rescue -- with Nevada, where prostitution is legal. So, Mr. Sisely and his pack of virgins hopped a plane and set up “shop” at a Nevada brothel. As far as anyone knows, they are still there, auctioning off and filming the cast’s first sexual experiences. When you hear it all laid out like this, it sounds rather vile, right? It’s “absurd and disgusting,” as Australian politician Steve Fielding put it.  Yeah, it’s pretty gross. I’ll tell you what it is NOT, though: surprising. Or illogical. I mean, if one looks at what’s happening in pop culture news, it is evident that prostitute is the new “It” job. Only we’re calling it something else: mistress.

In the last year, three notable mistresses have found fame and fortune through their occupation. Certainly there have been more than three women – and men, for that matter – who have had affairs with wealthy partners in the hopes of financial gain; that story is as old as affairs themselves. Three mistresses, though, have elevated the profession to a new level. There is the most recent inductee to the thinly-veiled sex trade All-Stars, Oksana Grigorieva (Hey, hey, hey – don’t get twisted. I am not blaming Oksana for Mel’s revolting and inexcusable behavior, so take it easy. We’re all friends here.); there is Michelle “Bombshell” McGee of Jesse James’s naked Nazi tattoo party; and then there is the queen, Rachel Uchitel, who was the first of Tiger Woods’s special friends. These three women have two very important things in common. All three had affairs with famous, wealthy, married men, and all three have made a lot of money as a result of their affairs. Oh, wait, I almost forgot; there’s one more important similarity. All three were in love with the men and never after the money, according to the women themselves. I forgot about that part. Probably because it’s not true.

Let’s look at Rachel’s story first, since she is the master. Rachel carried on a long-term affair with Tiger until the National Enquirer caught her on film leaving his hotel room in Australia. She denied it. And then she hired Gloria Allred, which was the equivalent of writing “Rachel loves Tiger” in the sky over his house. As the rest of Tiger’s mistresses came tumbling out of his metaphoric closet, Rachel kept silent. Later, it was reported that Woods had paid her $10 million for her silence. Ten. Million. Dollars. Ten million dollars not to tell us what we already knew! Months later, Rachel announced that she would be posing for Playboy, and yesterday it was reported that she had joined the cast of “Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew” to treat her…wait for it…wait for it…addiction to love. How much money and attention does one woman need? A lot, evidently. And what is she willing to do to get it? Carry on an affair with a married sex addict, strip, and fake an addiction, to be precise. You say tomato, I say she’s a prostitute.

Rachel, Oksana, Bombshell, Hailey…the list goes on and on. Women are being paid a hundred different ways for sleeping with married men and then talking about it -- or in Rachel’s case, for not talking about it – no matter how gory the details. Oksana Grigorieva turned down $15 million to keep the Mel tapes under wraps. If you think it’s because she wanted revenge more than money, well, that’s a slightly less disturbing theory. But I’ll bet any one of you $15 million that she’ll have made more than that from this tragedy once it’s over and forgotten. As for Bombshell, Hailey, and the rest, their profits might not be as staggering as Oksana’s and Rachel’s, but it’s all relative. Rachel and Oksana already had pretty impressive bank accounts before they cashed in on their intimacies, unlike the others. Point is, every one of them had an affair with a married man (each of their men was married when the affairs began), every one of them made a lot of money as a result, and every one of them is now a household name. So, now that I’ve carried on it about it for so long, you might be wondering, “What’s the big deal?” I’ll tell you what the big deal is. Girls in this country are going to grow up thinking that their bodies are currency and that selling one’s dignity is the American Dream.

We used to teach young girls not to “give it away,” but “giving it away” referred to sex without love, not sex without money. We told girls that they would have healthier self-esteem and healthier relationships if they valued themselves and their bodies enough to share them only judiciously. I think we still teach that on paper. The media, unfortunately, follow quite a different lesson plan. The women who get the most attention lately are those who make money from selling themselves and the stories of their very private lives. Of course, plenty of people shake their heads at all of it; it’s not as if the public treats Rachel Uchitel like a role model. But we buy the magazines and we watch the shows; we pay their salaries. So while I don’t think for a second that anyone -- or the media  -- is actually suggesting that young girls consider prostitution and/or extortion as career choices, I know that we reward those choices. And no matter what we say, our actions speak louder -- cliché though it may be, it's true. The choice isn't always as extreme as Rachel's or Oksana's. Sometimes it’s a more subtle sale of self, like Kendra or Kim Kardashian, both of whom have popped up on this page in the past. It’s all on the same spectrum. But now we’re at the end of that spectrum, the scary, scary end, where women make a better living from affairs with married men than from almost anything else and there are reality shows that auction off people’s virginity. Just read that sentence again. What's next? How much worse can the message be? When the producer of a reality show recruits contestants with a headline that reads "Virgins Needed" (yes, he did), I'd say not much worse. Just say no, people. We're the johns now -- just say no.

Well-Played, James Franco's Publicist

On the heels of James Franco's 420-inspired performance as Oscar host Sunday night, The New York Times published an article about the actor in yesterday's N.Y./Region section titled, "James Franco Straddles Two Roles At Yale." First, I laughed at the title. Then, I got my mind out of the gutter and read it. Third, I decided that Franco's management, not the writer Lisa Foderaro, is responsible for the piece. To wit, here is the opening of the article:

On Sunday night he was in Hollywood, as co-host of the Oscar telecast in black tie. At 9 the next morning, he was in a Starbucks in New Haven, hunched over a book and barely recognizable in a gray sweatshirt, but still wearing his tuxedo pants. James Franco, movie star, had rushed back on the red-eye to play his other big role: Yale doctoral student. By 9:25, he was at his seat in a seminar on medieval manuscripts. “I was surprised and delighted that he made it to class,” said Jessica Brantley, an associate professor of English. “He’s a dedicated student.”

The story goes on to give several examples of Franco's ability to blend in among the other students despite his fame, which is ostensibly its whole point. It's pretty clear, though, that what the story is really telling us is how hard Franco works. Reports Foderaro:

“We’re all really fascinated and awed,” said Cokey Cohen, the columnist at The Yale Daily News who drew Mr. Franco’s ire. “To see someone who has what we all consider to have an ideal life — with a fun, successful career — to be voluntarily doing so much schoolwork all the time is both really admirable and something I can’t even comprehend.” Dr. Warner said the actor’s academic ambitions were impressive. “We have had experience before with students pursuing parallel degrees,” he said, “although the scale of his obligations is something that we’ve never seen before — but who has?”


Okay. Let me translate all of this for you: JAMES FRANCO WAS NOT STONED AT THE OSCARS. HE WORKS REALLY HARD BECAUSE HE'S AN ECCENTRIC ACTOR GENIUS BOY. We get it, camp Franco. While it seems obvious that the Times article is nothing more than spin control after Franco's giant Oscar fail and as such can't be taken too seriously, might I take issue with Dr. Warner's statement? You know, "the scale of his obligations is something that we've never seen before -- but who has?" Sure, getting multiple degrees from different schools is an impressive feat, even for a celebrity with all the money and assistance necessary to make the feat possible. But I bet there's a single mom somewhere raising children, working, and attending school who is pretty familiar with the "scale" of JFranc's "obligations." Just saying. Look, I love me some James Franco, but he sucked at the Oscars. Whether he was stoned or burdened with the tired mind of an academic superstar really doesn't matter much. Taking on a lot of jobs and doing only some of them well doesn't seem to warrant a feature in The New York Times, does it? Maybe Franco should be, um, straddling less. In which case, I'd be happy to volunteer.