Secrets of the Tabloid World II. From Khloe Kardashian to J.Lo.

Today we turn to STAR and OK for three more insights into the secret Tabloid World.

Insight # 1: IT’S A WAR ZONE.

Exploding BOMBSHELLS are an everyday thing, as O.J. Simpson, Monica Lewinski, and Angie can attest, but Matt Lauer went nuclear and had a MASSIVE MELTDOWN. Khloe K. and Lamar were lucky: they reached only the BOILING POINT although they had a BLOWOUT fight. And poor Britney can’t even have a mani-pedi without experiencing MAYHEM and screaming at people in a BRITISH ACCENT, OK tells us. I’m just glad Arnie Schwarzenegger wasn’t there. He would have screamed in a German accent, which is much much scarier.

Will there ever be peace in the Tabloid World? No, it’s a bloody battlefield out there, and everyone is just so DISTRAUGHT. Ashton and Mila Kunis, for example, had a HUGE BATTLE because she’s no longer pin-thin and he has GANGED UP on her with Dior. Meanwhile Lindsay and her mom got their pics into both STAR and OK because of their NEVER-ENDING WOES and permanent arguments that ESCALATED into a fight. Other celebs manage to keep it down to a FEUD, like Vanessa Hudgens and Selena Gomez. Mind you, feuds are no fun either. They always come with a NEMESIS, and can be a regular SMACKDOWN.

Insight # 2: BABIES ARE EVERYWHERE!

Thank God for babies which bring joy to tabloid photogs, whether they come in HOT STROLLERS like Jenny Alba’s or HAND-ME DOWN T-shirts like tightwad Angie’s or are being DROPPED by scary mom Britney. Some like their babies cute, but Clare Danes and husband Hugh Dancy are just glad theirs is a HUMAN BEING and they felt profound relief. In fact, we are all breathing a profound sigh of relief because new mom Snooki has gotten used to NOT SLEEPING. By contrast, poor J.Lo feels no relief because she has BABY FEVER, according to OK. Watch out J.Lo or you’ll infect your baby! That’s what happened to Nick Lachey’s son who caught CINCINNATI BENGAL FEVER. To avoid all risk, we advise sticking with a PROSTHETIC BUMP like the one Sofia Vergara carried in Modern Family. Or even better, forget baby and opt for a dog, like Marissa Jaret Winokur, whose Lola is a regular show girl.

Insight # 3: OLD AGE.

Yes, amazingly and in spite of everything, some people in the Tabloid World are aging, and horrible things happen to them. Liam Neeson’s KNEES CREAK, Julianne Moore CAN’T STOP SWEATING. Matt Lauer (who had a massive meltdown, see above Insight # 1) makes CATASTROPHIC MISTAKES and BARKS at his staff. Arnie Schwarzenegger only looks like he’s barking, but that’s because his dentist made catastrophic mistakes. Andy Cohen has turned into a CAMERA HOG and sneaks into celebrity photo ops. Only Brad has escaped the ravages of old age. His former golden locks “might be more salt and pepper now,” the Star says, but it adds to his SOPHISTICATION.

Great coverage, you say? No, I’m deeply disappointed with STAR and OK. They forgot to include THEN and NOW photos, which as the ENQUIRER knows are essential to age-related features. So how can I be sure that Liam wasn’t born with creaky knees and Brad was less sophisticated in former days?

Secrets of the Tabloid World. From Sarah Palin to Brad and Angie.

Inching forward in the queue at the checkout counter I’ve often stared at tabloid covers and asked myself: who are those alien-looking people in the blurry insets? I finally caved and bought a copy of the National Enquirer, and, yup, it’s as I suspected. The tabloid scene unspools in a world of its own. Let me guide you through the main features:

TIME passes for all of us, but in the tabs it comes with THEN and NOW photos. We, the ordinary people, generally age, while the tab people become younger. This isn’t because they live in a time warp, as I thought at first, but because they have cosmetic surgery. Now this stuff goes on in the real world as well, but in the tabs, cosmetic surgery, although always DRASTIC, remains a SECRET until REVEALED in a tabloid. By then it has turned into a a woman's WORST NIGHTMARE, like Chris Jenner’s surgery, which will DESTROY HER LOOKS.

WEIGHT is a problem for many of us, but in the tabs weight gain or loss is much like cosmetic surgery: DRASTIC and never without THEN and NOW photos. And it’s always indicative of SECRET developments. Monica Lewinsky, for example, is going through a cancer drama, at least in the eyes of the check-out counter readers. Insiders who shell out money for the tabloid, discover that she doesn’t have cancer after all (whew!) although medical experts tell us that obesity puts her at risk and makes her a WALKING TIME BOMB. Now you’d think that people who lose weight will avoid those health risks, but that’s because you don’t understand the secret world of tabloids. In that environment, weight loss doesn’t make you slim and fit. It makes you SCARY-SKINNY and a SHADOW OF YOUR FORMER SELF, like Sarah Palin who is WASTING AWAY. Her cheeks are sunken and her hips have disappeared. I’m not surprised she’s sparked a HEALTH ALARM. Matt Lauer and Matthew McConaughey haven't sparked alarms yet, although one looks FRAIL and GAUNT and the other has WASHED AWAY to skin and bones.

BODY LANGUAGE. Watch out, celebs! In the tabloid world, reporters have x-ray vision and can read your every move. So here are some things you mustn't do under any circumstances:

Touch your tummy. That means you are PREGNANT. Celebs who carelessly put their hands on their tummies run the risk of up to ten pregnancies a year in the tab world.

Lean forward. No one ever “leans forward” in tabs. They SLUMP and COLLAPSE, are STRICKEN with sadness and depression, or else are BOOZE-PLAGUED and end up in rehab.

Pull a carry-on. That means you are moving out on your lover. Your relationship is DOOMED and IN TATTERS, like Brad’s, who is doing all sorts of things behind Angie’s back (BOOZE AND DRUG BOMBSHELL!) and will cause her to lean forward and collapse in tears. It also means the tab is obliged to offer photos of the pair in happier times (THEN and NOW!), before they had a BLOWUP and went BERSERK.

More insights into the SECRETS of the tabloid world in my next post!

Looking for VIP treatment? Here is what you need to know.  

Let me begin with a warning. Standards have sadly declined since the term was first used in the 1930s. I came to that conclusion when I received VIP tickets to a museum exhibit.  Me, an important person? Are you serious? I was, like, totally confused. So I researched the concept, and here is what I found out:

VIP treatment at your local movie theatre means reserved seats plus delivery of beverage to your seat without spilling sticky froth over your shoes. This is a LUXURIOUS EXPERIENCE. I’m quoting Cineplex.com.

But perhaps you prefer the MEMORABLE EXPERIENCE offered by Epcot.  As a special VIP service to Chase Card holders only, they offer electronic charging stations. Charging stations? Would that be what non-VIP schlubs call electric outlets?

And then there is the UNFORGETTABLE DONOR EXPERIENCE. Nonprofitimes.com has six suggestions to make donors feel like VIPS. Four of them are: Thank them. Thank them in writing. Thank them personally. And: Give them a pat on the back. Is that what non-VIP persons call sending junk mail? That would definitely make me feel great.

I don’t need a pack of tarot cards to see the future of VIP treatment. Here is my utopian vision:

MCDONALD’S: reserved supersized garbage bins.

PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION:  reserved standing room near reachable overhead straps.

PUBLIC HOUSING: reserved warm air grills on quiet street corners.

USED CAR DEALERS: reserved phone line to tow truck companies.

COLLECTION AGENCIES: reserved line to distress help centre.

Still dreaming of limos, red carpets, photo ops, and goodie bags? Yes, it’s out there, a click or a phone call away, but it’s called kid’s birthday party now. Check out Extreme Birthdays on cnn.com or ripleysnewyork.com and introduce your pre-schooler to the AMAZING EXPERIENCE of kiddie VIP treatment.

So maybe we need a new definition for adult VIP treatment? I googled the initials and came up with VIP = Virtual Implant Placement. That sounds about right: unreal, painful to contemplate, and screwing up your head.

Neighbourhood Alert: Do you know where your bar is?

In case you haven’t noticed, neighbourhood bars are changing. You used to go there to get sloshed and, depending on your orientation, hitting on someone of the same/opposite sex. Maybe those places are still around. If so, they should be marked with flashing neon signs YE OLDE BAR so you don’t accidentally fall into the hands of unscrupulous personal grooming bar operators.

I first sensed the danger twelve years ago when I lived in L.A. and a colleague looked at my sandaled feet and said, with pity in her voice: Oh. You do your own toenails?

Until that point I naively associated bars with pleasure. Then I noticed them: the juice bars, the mani/pedi bars, the brow bars, the wax bars, the botox bars.

The old-style bars had the decency of keeping their walls solid and their lighting low, but these new establishments have no shame. They sport floor to ceiling plate glass windows. They brazenly show off their sordid practices. They play to the voyeur, invite you to catch clients in the act, with their fingers splayed and their feet soaking in pomegranate and lime while Asian slaves, tortured by piped-in cheesy rock, cower before them and labour away at their primp jobs.

It’s a billion dollar industry, ranging right below mortgage payments on some people’s budget. And what do you get for your money? After schlepping from one bar to the next and emerging, finally, hairless, buffed, and shiny, you no longer have the energy to show your body off at YE OLDE BAR. And even if you do, there’s no payback. In the dim lighting your expensive new body looks just like the old one. Plus, your hangover will be unbearable. Your botoxed face won’t allow you to contract your brows or twist your lips sufficiently to let out a good groan, and what’s a morning after without a good moaning and groaning?

It’s time to organize and put pressure on local politicians. Demand clear and prominent warning labels on the new-style bars, something like the screed on cigarette packs: The Surgeon General has determined that too much grooming is detrimental to your fun and may lead to the eradication of sinful pleasures. Need help to quit? Write to www.gospafree or leave a comment on this blog.

Suffering from anxiety? The Mayo Clinic has an app for you.

Where do you turn for relief from anxiety -- God, man, or machine?

I myself like machines. Had enough instruction? Simply press the off button. God is more difficult to turn off. He tends to lord it over you and bring out thunder bolts or forty days of rain if you balk. People can be hard to shut up as well, like the Baptist preacher, whose talk Joe Fiorito attended at the Parkdale Library (The Toronto Star, 12 Oct). If renouncing Satan from the basement stage of your local library relieves your anxiety, the preacher guy is your man. If not, the Mayo Clinic has an app for you. It’s called Anxiety Coach (www.mayoclinic.org).  Apparently the machine has a to-do list for you. If you are afraid of dogs, for example, you “begin with standing outside a room and looking at a dog and progress to lying on the floor and letting the dog eat treats off your forehead.”

It’s as simple as that, people. With the Mayo model in mind, let’s look at other anxieties and draw up a to-do list for you.

EXAM ANXIETY: Begin by standing outside the exam room and watch the exam papers being distributed. Progress to placing your hands on the exam booklet.  Once you feel comfortable with the sight and touch, stand behind a student (preferably someone known to get straight As) and look over his/her shoulder.  When you are ready, copy the contents of his/her paper onto your exam booklet.  Complete the process by putting your name and student number in the appropriate slot.  If the person supervising the exam protests, explain your handicap and insist on special consideration. This usually works for educational institutions.  In the commercial world, a different approach is recommended.

JOB INTERVIEW ANXIETY:  Begin by standing outside the office building where you expect to land a job. Progress to the lobby and study the names on the directory until your find your father’s/ uncle’s/best friend’s company. Proceed to the relevant floor and present yourself to the receptionist. After adjusting to the environment, enter the office of your father/ uncle/best friend. Make pleasant conversation until he mentions job opportunities. Chanting OM at this point is relaxing, but chanting salary figures above 100,000 is more immediately effective.  Now that your breathing has normalized, leave the rest to your father/uncle/best friend.

ANXIETY IN SOCIAL SITUATIONS: Begin by choosing an on-line profile you are comfortable with. Thinking of yourself as attractive, intelligent, and wealthy usually helps.  Proceed to post that profile on a dating site. Keeping in mind the regrettable tendency of people to exaggerate their personal attributes, choose potential partners only from the A-list.  After cruising message boards, choose conversational bits that are in tune with your on-line profile and weave them into your own posts. If you find a suitable partner and are at ease with your virtual relationship, leave it at that. Why meet face-to-face, be disappointed, and start the vicious cycle of anxiety all over again? 

In fact, never mind the Mayo Clinic Coach. Here’s my golden rule, guaranteed to take care of all types of anxiety: Stay home, sit in front of a screen, eat potato chips. Voila: No more anxiety.