Is it any wonder Maer left town?

C'mon boys, let's keep this a clean fight. Wash your hands and go to your corners.—MG

Martina Basabe: The mere mention of her name incites hysterical laughter (we have seen this), which is exactly what happened when her name popped up in our inbox today. Apparently, she's now rounding the charity circuit as a junior co-chair for the May 10th Champion Awards Luncheon (along with retardedly-named socialites Celerie Kemble and Zani Gugelman) to benefit Safe Horizon. The invitation says the purpose of the event is honoring heroes, championing the needs of victims. In keeping with that goal, we award Mrs. Fabian Basabe the Gillette Mach 3 Award for putting on a brave, er, face. —NH

Out in Williamsburg (New York s famed Asshole District) Brooklyn operatives are running a Free Store —sort of a communist boutique that, unlike us, is actually working.

Dirty Martini: "Who you callin' hose?"

·Jewelry heir, Evan Yurman, finds that farting isn t the only way to clear a room. After threatening party guests with ass-kickings and gunfire, John Mayer, Erin Wasson, and Jaime Johnson flee to Bungalow. [Page Six]
·Elton John finally comes out: Singer will marry partner David Furnish next Christmas. [NYDN]
·Upon hearing the news that Madame Tussaud's is unveiling a wax dummy of Paris Hilton, Liz Smith issues the following pimp slap: I'm told it is quite realistic. You won't be able to tell the difference. Oooh, snap![Liz Smith]
·Rebecca Romijn to Jerry O'Connell: "You can't touch this unless you first put on MC Hammer pants." [Lowdown]
·Donald Sutherland has latent suicidal tendencies. Funny, we felt the same way after that ass-shot of his in Animal House. [R&M]
—NH

If Hiltons and Ronsons can have clothing lines just like the rappers who really know how to design fashion, then why not a former nightlife columnist? And after years shooting sex stars, how could a canny photographer not realize the value of limited edition porn DVDs? New York Post scribe Jared Paul Stern, having decamped to the Catskills, had some time on his hands and came up with a product as twisted as the truth in the hands of the gossip columnist he sometimes still is. His new preppy-punk line of ties and polos, Skull & Bones (debuting tonight at a party at A.S. Parker, 1001 Madison Avenue) replaces fuckin cutesy critters, as he puts it, like alligators and polo ponies with the sign of the Jolly Roger.

Because Denton says Gawker must be about New York, I spent all day yesterday trying to figure out a local angle on this photo. Then it came to me as I filled my tank on Northern Boulevard in Queens and thought, "Wow, $2.55 a gallon for premium! What a bargain!" Peeling off $40 and handing it over, I paused to thank God that our fundamentalist President and Saudi Arabia s fundamentalist Prince Abdullah are obviously thick as thieves. —MG

We asked for your help with yesterday's blind items (Teamwork! Ropes course! Circle of trust!) and you answered the call. Hells yeah. Your attorney-taunting responses below. —NH

Give a girl an inch and she'll take your iPod. The 17-year-old daughter of actress Dianne Wiest (former D.A. on "Law & Order," at right) was arrested yesterday for taking part in some hot girl-on-boy action. Hey, life is random. —MG

Former Silicon Valley know-it-all Chris Nolan coins a name for the missing link between the old-school press and...this: Stand-Alone Journalism. Freedom of the press no longer belongs only to those rich enough to own one. So there. —MG
The Stand Alone Journalist is Here [PressThink]
[Politics From Left to Right]

While we were posting silly photos of Ryan Seacrest accepting his star on the Walk of Fame last week and wistfully dreaming up time-travel schemes to prevent the American Idol host's conception, the crap-culture vigilantes at H.O.P.E. (Horrified Observers of Pedestrian Entertainment) are taking the pragmatic approach to protesting this latest aesthetic thumb in the eye. They're urging people to photograph themselves defiling/disrepecting/defecating upon Seacrest's star and submitting the results to their website. While we don't recommend that anyone actually drop trou and deliver a little brown care package on the star (someone's probably already accidentally done it), the non-fecal possibilities for protest are intriguing. How quickly can someone shoot a all-male, guerilla porno over that slab of sidewalk before the Hollywood cops show up? We have a feeling we all just might find out. Happy doggystyling, Seacrest haters.

We asked you to send us your best captions for the totally hetero picture below. We had so many great responses — it was almost impossible to choose! — if it were up to us, you would all get free tickets. But it ain't. So the winner of two tickets to Louis XIV at Bowery Ballroom tomorrow night is...(snare drum!)....

In what we hope will come to be a recurring feature, Defamer is proud to present the first installment of Inside the Throne Room, a penetrating look inside the water closets of Hollywood's hottest power players. Our opening offering spotlights what appears to be a guest bathroom from Brian Grazer's Pacific Palisades manse, snapped during the recent book release party for the wife of Imagine partner Ron Howard. Judging from this cameraphone shot (click it for a larger version), yes, it's a little small, but cozy enough in its muted tones that we can picture quixotic superproducer Grazer occasionally seeking refuge there from the opulence of his master bathroom; perhaps it's even the place where he gets the kind of thinking done that results in Russell Crowe having "real" imaginary friends in A Beautiful Mind, an inspired filmic shorthand that frustrated schizophrenia sufferers but carried the pic to multiple Oscar wins.

A reader helpfully scanned this Help Wanted ad from today's THR and sent it in to us for analysis (click it to see the full version). Look, everyone knows that to land a good gig in this town, you're have to be willing to "011101" some "1000111." Even we had to bite our bottom lip and endure some "011010001" just to get a PA job a few years ago, and while it was not something we're proud of, we did it. And smiled. But where do these people get off demanding that desperate applicants degrade themselves with "1110000110011100"?! We're pretty sure that's not merely illegal, but that many faiths won't allow you a proper religious burial if you've done that sort of thing. Our recommendation: Pass on this one. Life's too short.

Yvonne Force Villareal and Sandra Hamburg are the socialites du jour, say the trend-hounds at Sunday Styles. The duo's "heavy, sexy, disco-inspired, French existential gigolo" style is showcased on their new CD, Mothers Inc:

Today's visually-impaired gossip items come courtesy of Page Six and NYDN Ken Doll, Ben Widdicombe. You guess, we post, we get sued. Good times!

Seriously, we read books.

The Church of Scientology maintained its omnipresence at the LAT Festival of Books this weekend, where we encountered at least three COS-sponsored booths. Two of the booths offered e-meter stress tests as a respite from the thetan-attracting activity of perusing books not authored by L. Ron Hubbard (copies of Dianetics were handy for those flunking the test). While Tom Cruise was obviously busy with more pressing missions, the booths were not without their own brand of star-power, as The Sandlot's Patrick Renna (pictured above; IMDb, homepage, favorite Hubbard quote) pitched in and helped administer some of the tests.

We re getting in touch with our inner morning radio DJ and giving away two free tickets to see the band, Louis XIV, (no relation to scary-looking new pope, Benedict XVI) at Bowery Ballroom tomorrow night. Since we like to make you work for it, and you can undoubtedly top the craptions we usually come up with, we re turning this one over to the people. Try to beat the caption below (photo from John Cameron Mitchell's birthday party last night) and we'll post the best entries. Winner gets fame, glory, and the chance to chunk shit at over-mascara d portly glam rockers. —NH