April Winchell

I don’t know how I found this website.

I don’t know what link I followed, what path I took.

I only know that I got there, and I am forever changed.

If you read or listen to me at all, you know how completely smitten I am with The Search for America’s Next Top Model. It is everything that is good and right about television, and really, about the world.

Welcome to a house full of witless, vacant, smoking skeletons, competing for a Cover Girl contract and modeling just as hard as they can. It’s a joyful celebration of abject stupidity, where immunity challenges involve putting on blush, and “studying” is defined as sitting on the bed in your underwear, flipping through Elle.

But of course, there is drama as well, as one would expect in a house with a combined IQ of 30.

Renee is jealous. Whitney is a staggeringly fat size 8. Jael is out of cigarettes and someone stole the Redbull. Where does it all end?

Between vomiting, there are heartfelt talks with Tyra Banks, who solves everyone’s problems by talking about herself.

I’ve read a lot of coverage on ANTM over the years, because it really is a bonanza for people like me. I’ve always enjoyed laughing at people who are asking for it, and this show sends an engraved invitation every week.

But never have I read nastier, sharper, funnier coverage than what this gentleman provides. Not only does he write well, he illustrates his assault with animations, screen grabs, Photoshops and sound bytes. It’s a full-on, multi-media offensive, carried out by someone who knows his target. I now live for Mondays, when the latest recap comes out.

And to add to my joy, he’s started covering The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll, which brings stupid into an entirely new dimension. The girls on that show make the ANTM house look like the Rand Corporation.

So go take a look, but make sure you have plenty of time. He’s very complete, and completely addictive.