The most awful one by far is Rich from LFO. You can tell by how "Crush With Eyeliner" is the song for his segment. The first thing you see about Rich is that he's got a boss eye, and that he's really dumb. It shows him wrangling his own bags at the airport, bitching about how he used to have people to do this for him. For three months, Rich. You were famous for three months. He brags to us about how "LFO was [him]," as though that's something to be happy about. In 1999, he was, admittedly, hot but still stupid-looking. Now he looks like a turnip. A turnip with cancer. And there is nothing funny about cancer, but a great deal is funny about Rich from LFO. As Joe R said, "It's not the Chinese food making him sick these days." I don't think chemo makes you talk like Sling Blade, either, so basically it's okay to make fun of guys with cancer as long as they'd suck regardless. Right?
So In March 2005 he got the leuk, and this gave him understanding of death. Sort of. It also might have made him wear Burberry in the present day. He talks about how the leukemia would have killed him if he didn't go to the doctor. That's a hell of a thing, how that works. He had five rounds of chemo, then stem cells. Stem cells might make you wear Burberry, actually. He says it's "awful but at the same time wonderful," because he didn't die. I don't know if he's talking about treatment or about the concept of stem cells, but I don't see him making the jump either way. Basically, the facts are that Rich used to look like Ryan Seacrest's straight little brother with a rape rap, and now he looks like Michael Buble's mentally handicapped uncle who works nights as a janitor.
Jeff from 98 Degrees seems very nice and smiles like that all the time. I cannot say that I, or anyone in this world, has ever heard a song by 98 Degrees. Say what you will, I shall not believe you. I cannot name one song. His neck is very veiny. The sad thing about 98 Degrees is that boybands ended in 1997, so now he lives in his parents' house in the O.C. In his bedroom, it is sad, sad, sad. There is a keyboard and an iMac, and he calls it his "studio." He talks about how he likes to be behind the scenes rather than in front of the camera -- "believe it or not!" -- and then there's a montage of him talking bullshit on his cell phone everywhere, from his car to the bar to a high-class eatery. One hundred locations. Sweet little Jeffy tells us how during his time with his imaginary boyband, he tried to "absorb" the business side of music, and then lists all the things he absorbed: distribution, retail, production, marketing, promotions. In short: nothing. Jeff, you learned nothing.