I just read this today, but apparently the photographer who harassed Reese and family at Disney’s California Adventure back in September has been found dead in his apartment. Damn, that chick is so hardcore. I don’t know about you all, but I’ve completely created this image in my head of Reese as this cold-as-ice power monger ruthlessly climbing the social and professional ladders in Hollywood and crushing any-and-everyone who stands in her way. And, yes, I do realize that is this entire mental image is two parts Elle Woods, three parts Tracey Flick, and a dash of Becky Sharpe. But it’s fun to imagine: she debases herself by filming that preposterous roller-coaster scene in Fear, but her career blossoms while her director’s career tanks; she acquires the pretty-but-dim husband who looks nice on a red carpet but doesn’t ask too many questions; she stalks June Carter Cash until she dies, at which point Reese consumes her essence for Walk the Line. Okay, maybe not. But come on, bitch is stone cold and you know it.
As for the photographer guy … did Reese really have him taken care of in order to get even? Sure, the likelihood is that this guy -- with his history of child-shoving and petty-thieving -- probably came to his end via his own shady dealings. But perhaps Reese had her Serial Mom moment with this scumbag. I hope she thanks him in her Oscar speech.