There was a tense moment at the National Spelling Bee earlier today when a precocious contestant repeatedly challenged her misspelling of "paparazzo" by referring to ample evidence of an alternate, colloquial spelling of P-A-V-A-R-O-T-T-I in the canon of Kevin Federline. Eventually, the judge relented and allowed the girl to continue in the competition, muttering something about "the total defilement of everything we hold dear."

· Good news! Lisa Turtle isn't all coked up! And she's willing to sue to make sure everyone knows it.
· You've read about the Chosen One, now buy the t-shirt commemorating the place of her birth.
· Our gearheaded brother site Jalopnik is all geeked up over some leaked set pics from the Transformers movie. Michael Bay has hurt us before, so we're holding back our enthusiasm for now.
· If the photos of a clean-cut K-Fed weren't enough to chill your soul, try the images at Catlebrity on for size. We're convinced the one of Paris Hilton is what we'll see before we die.
· A starting bid of just under $1,000 gets you a shot at winning a real Britney Spears wedding invitation. But why not wait a while and see how much longer the marriage lasts before dropping a grand?

We'd always thought that if one loosened Kevin Federline's cornrows, he'd collapse into a pile of loose skin, overlong cargo shorts, and a wife beater, but something called Item magazine proved that providing K-Fed with a shave and a haircut doesn't actually result in sudden, catastrophic background-dancer loss. The stunning transformation might be too much for an already vulnerable Britney Spears to bear; we picture her momentarily ignoring her baby's cries, spilling tears of her own on the photo spread while she feverishly composes a few lines of incomprehensible, depressive tenth-grader-quality poetry lamenting that she wasn't knocked up by an investment banker.

While her wax doppelganger clings to a deluxe stripper pole currently installed at Madame Tussaud's, the real Britney Spears is left desperately clinging to the metaphorical stripper pole of her own sanity, as she watches what's left of her marriage tumble to the ground like ashes from so many half-smoked Philly Blunts. Not a week after her wrathful poem, "Remembrance of Who I Am" (soon to be required reading in all college Feminist Lit courses) appeared on her website, The Scoop notes that, according to Us Weekly, husband/askew-hat-enthusiast Kevin Federline has been leaking stories to his pals, which they in turn have been selling to the tabloids:

• America's first couple, Britney Spears and Kevin Federline, may no longer be rolling in the filth of their wedded bliss. Brit's publicist refuses to deny that they've split, and in the court of celebrity trash, silence is an admission of divorce. If the sweet sounds of "Popozao" can't save a marriage, can anything? [Mirror UK]
• After signing a $6 million deal with Miramax Books for her memoirs, Barbara Walters has weaseled her way out of the contract in pursuit of a better deal elsewhere. If Hillary Clinton can get $8 million for her autobiography, then certainly Babs can fetch just as much. The face-lifts aren't going to pay for themselves, you know. [Page Six]
• Having worked for everyone in Hollywood, jailbird P.I. Anthony Pellicano may have worked with Israeli mobsters — a natural climb up the Power Jew ladder. [R&M]
• Brandon Davis issues an official apology to Lindsay Lohan after calling her a firecrotch. He's also "horrified" by that bit about her seven-foot-long clitoris, and considers the freckles coming out of her vagina to be "reprehensible." [Page Six]
• Fox News' Kimberly Guilfoyle is set to marry male socialite Eric Villency in Barbados tomorrow — and just in time, too, as she's 5 months pregnant. We can't have a bastard baby around Murdoch's house. [Lowdown]

Open All Night has photos of Britney Spears' wax likeness at Madame Tussaud's, unveiled today and featuring the troubled pop strumpet hanging upside down from a deluxe stripper pole. She's even outfitted with state-of-the-art "heaving chest" technology (no joke), adding to the illusion that she's actually there, lip-synching just inches away from you. While the press release touts the installation as being a dynamic recreation of one of her legendary stage performances, there seems to be some confusion amongst fans—one of whom took to wielding signage in protest— who took the unusual placement to be a cheap shot at Spears' reported clumsiness at baby-handling techniques. Of course, the tiny wax figure of Sean Preston several feet away, suspended by fishing line as if to appear to be sailing through the air, did nothing to dispel the interpretation.

Britney Spears' "Love B: stream of consciousness" section of her official website—the public diary to which she confides her innermost incomprehensible thoughts and musings—has, after nearly a year with nary an entry, stirred to life as of late. First, she posted a 10-word announcement that she was leaving Kabbalah for the "religion" of her "baby." Now, even more mysteriously, an opus of a poem entitled "Remembrance of Who I Am" has been appearing and disappearing from the site, accompanied by a photo of Spears and some garishly outfitted friends flipping the bird. (As of posting time, the poem and photo are back up.) There has been much debate as to what or whom Spears is alluding to in "Remembrance," a verse so primal and tortured it may as well have been titled, "Howl, Y'all." Many are postulating that the target of her ire is none other than background dancing husband/parasite, Kevin Federline, while another interpretation has her addressing the media who paint her as a baby-smashing mommy-monster. You can reach your own conclusions—the entire poem is after the jump.

• Everything we've ever said about Anna Wintour? Well, we don't take it back — she's still a scary snowlady. But she also took Meryl Streep up on her invite and showed up to a VIP screening of The Devil Wears Prada and managed not to strangle Lauren Weisberger while there. May every woman have such grace and inner strength. [R&M]
• If you want the cover of Vanity Fair, you can't just be hot or an A-lister. You have to rat on something or someone — Nicole Richie lost the cover because she wouldn't discuss much regarding Paris; Vince Vaughn got bumped because he refused to talk about Jennifer Aniston; Britney Spears lost her shot because she wouldn't talk about her marriage. But Anderson Cooper scores the glossy crown because he lets them reprint shit he wrote in his book? [Page Six]
• Unless she pops sometime soon, Angelina Jolie will have labor induced sometime in the first week of June. Start planning your Mr. & Mrs. Smith celebratory viewing party now! [IMDb]
• Incarcerated publicity whore Jason Itzler calls Lloyd Grove, asks to be in the Daily News. Lloyd obliges, revealing that he's nothing more than a gossip with a heart of gold and weakness for pimps. [Lowdown]
• Britney Spears copes with K-Fed by writing poetry. Painful, gut-wrenching, confusing poetry. [Page Six]

If we had to pinpoint it, we'd put our money on her public breakdown: Minutes after paparazzi captured Britney Spears stumbling and almost dropping her baby, the same shutter-hounds caught her quietly weeping in the window of a Manhattan restaurant. (We can only hope the eatery hasn't since put a framed photo of the depressing moment on their wall, accompanied by the caption, "Britney Spears at the precise moment she realizes she's a terrible mother living in a fishbowl...enjoying one of our world famous calzones!") In any case, the day marked a turning point in Spears' public perception: Mothers everywhere have since admitted that these sorts of mishaps happen often, and that the singer shouldn't be unfairly judged for doing the same.

The Scoop delves deeper into the mystery of Britney Spears' abrupt distentanglement from Kabbalah's red, stringy web of trendwhore spirituality, suggesting the fake religion may have nudged the donation basket her way one time too many:

· The votes are in, and America has spoken. And Mischa...it's your time. See you at the reunion show.
· According to Nikki Finke, the early word on Da Vinci Code's box office is: Blasphemelicious!
· The director of The Omen offers a master class in how not to use 9/11 in your movie.
· Not only has TMZ gone and made Britney cry after her near-fumble, they made sure to get some video of it. Warning: You will feel very, very dirty after watching it.

Brit's been having a bad week — dangerous misuse of car seats, nearly dropping her kid outside the Ritz-Carlton, walking around with her hair knotted on the top of her chubby head, etc. But are any of these public embarrassments any worse than her other missteps? We turn to the wisdom of the masses.

It's hard to present you with such heart-wrenching news twice in one week, but you're all strong enough to take the pain. We're not going to sugar-coat it: Britney Spears still may be an unfit mother.

The web-enabled stalkerazzi at TMZ.com have just posted a photo gallery of Britney Spears' latest infant-vs-gravity "mishap," a brief near-fumble of Sean Preston, the toddler who seems doomed to be the most perpetually endangered offspring in celebritydom until Lindsay Lohan gives birth to a baby made entirely of cocaine. TMZ describes the scene thusly:

• Because it's clearly a matter of national import, Freakonomics tackles the issue of Britney Spears. The conclusion: car seats are kind of bad, but Britney's is downright dangerous. [Freakonomics]
• Master publicist Richard Edelman loves the bloggers. If you're not careful, he might snatch you away. [WSJ]
• For you forlorn fans of Arrested Development, there's a chance for happiness at the Bluth family estate sale. [The Real Estate]
• Former Rolling Stone publisher Steve Deluca has a tattoo on his penis. Do you actually want further details? Didn't think so. [Jossip]
• Desperate to save The Bachelor, ABC casts an inbred as the lead. [Popwatch]
• A brief study of trade mags and lazy art departments. [Fishbowl]
• Work for Jon Voight, if only for the chance to be near the man who helped make Brangelina. [Craigslist]

Never mind the state-by-state vagaries of infant car-seat laws. Another new-mom old pal, this one a Manhattanite, points us to a certain picture on the Us Weekly blog and incontrovertible evidence (right) of Mrs. Federline's malicious neglect. "More evidence of child abuse," charges our emailer. "Britney's got her kid's hat cocked to the side so that he looks like his idiot dad."

Yesterday afternoon we brought you, courtesy of our greasemonkey brother, Jalopnik, word that Britney hadn't really screwed up (this time). Sony BMG put out a press release, as Jalopnik reported, noting that "rear-facing seats are only required if the infant is not more than 20 lbs. Britney's son Sean weighs over 20 lbs." A case of tabloid overreach, it seemed. But then — hold on, Skippy.

• Though we spent all morning weeping for the beacon of bad parenting that is Britney Spears, we might now be able to dry our eyes. Turns out, she was doing nothing wrong — other than going out in curlers. [Jalopnik]
• Original Survivor Richard Hatch gets 51 months in jail for failing to pay taxes on his earnings. Lucky for him, the naked shtick will earn him all sorts of friends in prison. [TaxProf]
• David Patrick Columbia has an interesting blind item about a jet-setting socialite; even more than her identity, we'd love to know the name of the magazine editor who bends to her will. [NYSD]
• Happy birthday, Tucker Carlson! That makes 38 long years of douchebaggery, and many more to come. [Jossip]
• Meet the Popper Monster, the worst gay man to ever hit the dance floor. Also, he's probably your stockbroker. [Manhattan Offender]
• Only in New York would 39 gays assume we already have a gay newscaster on air. [NYM]
• Tragically, hipsters face discrimination from non-hipsters who happen to just look like hipsters. [YouTube]
• We didn't know it was even possible, but Pete Doherty continues to test the laws of the universe, growing more fucked up by the day. [Witz]

Both the NY Daily News and the NY Post feature photos on their front pages of successfully deprogrammed ex-Kabbalah devotee Britney Spears driving her pristine, soft-top Mini Cooper with her slightly damaged, soft-top mini-human, Sean Preston, improperly harnessed into his child safety seat facing forward, instead of the recommended backward. (Call us bleeding hearts, we were just thrilled he wasn't bungee'd to a snowboard rack.) Both tabloids lazily grabbed at the most obvious headline, running with a redundant "Oops, I Did It Again"-motif. We can only hope "Dropped My Baby (One More Time)" won't too echo across the nation's newsstands the morning after Spears' next infant-fracturing high-chair malfunction.

How are you this morning? A little cold and gray out there, isn't it? Kind of rainy and depressing. Well, look, we hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we need you to sit down. We've got something a little... shocking to tell you, something that might change the way you look at life in ways you can't yet even conceive of. No, no, your folks are okay. It's just that, well - God, this is so hard! Okay, we're just going to tell you. You're an adult, we think you can handle it. Okay, here we go. The thing is... Britney Spears? Maybe not the world's best mother.