Sure, director-in-exile Roman Polanski admitted in his libel trial against Vanity Fair, he had his share of fun as a young cocksmith on the loose in Hollywood at the height of his powers, taking women three at a time when the opportunity presented itself, but he was never this shameless a horndog:

On Monday, Rupert Murdoch dispatched his minions to sweep down and acquire MySpace, extending the reach of his worldwide media empire into the computers of 18 million potential Fantastic Four ticket buyers and demographically desirable The O.C. viewers. We could speculate about how the conglomerate is going to utilize the power of a social networking site as a new advertising platform for its various entertainment products, but we've been so excited waiting for Rupe to miraculously appear in our Friend Space that we're spending our time preparing a welcoming Friend Comment instead. Here's what we have so far: "This guy is one crazy mofo! LOL! We were doing tequila shots on the beach in Sydney when he waded into the water and bit a fukkin shark! Then he was all, 'Take that, you toothy poofter, I am king of the goddamn ocean!' RUPE IS THE BADDEST! Newz Korp 4-eva!" We think he's really going to like it.

After lengthy deliberations with his lawyers, agents, managers, publicists, and family priests, Colin Farrell has determined that widespread public consumption of a homemade video depicting his sweaty porking of a former Playmate would not, in fact, further his career as a mainstream leading man, and the actor (must we refer to him as a "hard-drinking, rabble-rousin' Irish scamp"? Yes, we must.) has finally filed a lawsuit against his sex tape co-star, Nicole Narain, in an attempt to suppress its release. Farrell's next legal action will likely be a joint suit against a bottle of whiskey and his penis, which he will allege "willfully and maliciously colluded to impair his abilities to make rational career decisions when in the presence of video recording equipment, a figure model who may one day be desperate for fame, and a Twister board slicked with Johnson & Johnson baby oil." The defendants in the second case will be found guilty of all charges.

· How deeply was Nicole Kidman involved with Scientology during her marriage to professional detoxification technician Tom Cruise? Pretty deep, according to Page Six.
· You miss the old days of nonstop Cruise coverage, don't you? Genius Bloom County/Outland/Opus cartoonist Berke Breathed explores the link between Ellen DeGeneres, Rosie O'Donnell, and Cruise through the medium of our favorite cartoon penguin.
· Everything you ever wanted to know about Roman Polanski's sex life, but were too afraid to ask.
· Unpaid blogging's Jim Treacher transitions to the ranks of blog-whore (welcome to the club, Treach) by running the site for the movie Blowing Smoke. And we're not linking him because of his clumsy attempts at sucking up (which, frankly, could've been a little more heartfelt), we're just curious to see what kind of Freudian nightmare the cigar-heavy blog becomes under Treacher's stewardship.
· Just because you don't have the rights to a major movie franchise shouldn't stop you from pitching a new sequel around town. Someone is likely to admire your moxie, chuck you under the chin, and, dadgummit, put you right to work!

· Cheap bastard Monday night music round-up: The BellRays continue in their free Monday night residency at Spaceland; Rachel Yamagata does a free show at Amoeba before heading over to the pricier (read: not free) Wiltern.
· What's that? You're cheap and/or broke, but don't feel like seeing live music? You're in luck! You can see a free screening of f Jack Kerouac: The King of Beats and Stroker: Accidents and Miracles at Art Share Los Angeles.
· Gary Cooper won Best Actor for High Noon, but the picture struck out for the only award anybody cares about. Feel the pain of loss at the Academy's "Great To Be Nominated" series at the Samuel Goldwyn Theater.

Ever since a kamikaze shutterbug slammed his car into the Lohanmobile during a high-speed quest for some fresh pictures of the starlet's newly prominent skeleton, the paparazzi vocation has been red-hot. (That sound you hear is the sigh of a Fox executive who just realized that his studio already made a cut-rate paparazzi revenge flick last year.) On Sunday, the NY Times endeavored to better understand the "car-centered...uniquely Los Angeles art" of staking out the Ivy with a telephoto lens, which is "under siege" by reckless marauders from the Continent:

It's been a couple of months since we've received any reports about Brett Ratner's reckless abuse of the city's handicapped parking spaces, but a reader's (admittedly unverifiable) sighting has tipped us off to more of the director's automotive shenanigans. Beware, women of Beverly Hills, for you're not even safe from this Bentley-borne menace while encased in your steel cocoon:

The LAT pops over to Paramount to take a look at how new studio chief Brad Grey has put his imprint on The New Paramount™, soliciting quotes from employees and business associates about how much better things seem to be running than in the final, sputtering days of the Sherry Lansing Era, and noting successes both big (winning a stare-down with Tom Cruise over Mission: Impossible 3's costs) and small (the making-the-trains-run-on-time flourish of reducing DVD prices for employees). But most of all, the fun-loving new boss wants everyone to stop acting so stuffy and chill the fuck out, OK?

The just-appointed Defamer Special Correspondent for Comic Book Conventions files this report from this weekend's Comic-Con geek-orgy, in which Oscar-winning stars like Adrien Brody and Jamie Foxx are forced to face Q & A panel humiliation while Jack Black is worshipped as a god:

We've really got to hand it to HBO. They've dovetailed the plot of The Comeback's fictional Room & Bored (which bombed in its premiere in last night's episode) so seamlessly with the fate of the real-life show that we have a hard time discerning fantasy from reality. Our confusion is so thorough that we also have no idea if we despise Lisa Kudrow, Valerie Cherish, or even Phoebe; each time we see a Friends episode, we're disappointed that one of the showrunners never breaks the fourth wall to humiliate her.

· Given that Imagine Entertainment has signed fauxteur Brett Ratner to direct a heist flick/buddy comedy with Eddie Murphy and Chris Rock, thus insuring that his extra-Rush Hour box office losing streak will be snapped, we are forced to conclude that Ratner has very, very incriminating photographs of Imagine's Ron Howard and Brian Grazer sexually humiliating prisoners at Guantanamo (i.e. hosting a screening of A Beautiful Mind), or some high-def video of the duo poisoning the water supply of half the San Fernando Valley. These are the only possible explanations for his hire. We're still trying to figure out what blackmail material Ratner found to land the X3 gig. [Variety]
· Bryan Singer screens Superman Returns footage at Comic-Con, hundreds of pairs of blue-and-red Underoos sufficiently creamed. [THR]
· Var calls Comic-Con a "big fat geek wedding." [Variety]
· Entourage gets a third season pick-up, and HBO head Chris Albrecht plans to hire more writers to squeeze out more than thirteen episodes a season. [THR]
· Former Fox TV head Gail Berman and OC creator Josh Schwartz reunite at The New Paramount, where Schwartz will attempt to channel his bankable facsimile of high school angst writing and directing a feature adaptation of the book Looking for Alaska. [Variety]

A reader stumbled across this photo displaying Jude Law's nanny-diddling stick, taken at the recent Live 8 concert on a Law fansite. The site makes no reference to the nanny-blasting smoking gun in Law's pants, so we have no reason to suspect Photoshop trickery. Click the image above to see a larger image of Law and wronged fiancée Sienna Miller in happier times (click here if your monitor renders the image too dark to see), or go here to see Miller throwing a timely cock-block, preventing a mysterious hand entering the frame from completing its mission to liberate 'Lil Jude from his snug prison.

Have you ever found yourself standing on top of a table in a Las Vegas club, chugging Grey Goose straight from the bottle, then suddenly overcome by an overwhelming sense of L.A.-flavored deja vu? That simultaneous comforting/unsettling effect has been painstakingly crafted by a host of club owners and promoters who are trying to replicate the Hollywood club experience in Vegas, right down to importing the usual batch of celebrity VIP booth monkeys. From Sunday's LAT:

Whoopsies! Jude Law's penis found its naughty way into his nanny's vagina, extracurricular genital-genital contact clearly not authorized by fiancée Sienna Miller. Reports in the the British tabloids forced the nanny-diddling actor to issue the dreaded Press Release of Shame:

Like manna from heaven, your weekend box office numbers:

· StallionMania is not without its dark side. We can't approve of Butterscotch Stallion cybersquatting.
· If you've been looking for someone to blame for why Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie look so much alike (other than "puberty," but we're not talking about their bodies right now), her name is Rachel Zoe.
· Seeing Christopher Walken in Wedding Crashers reminded us of the time that he trounced us in a very memorable staring contest. (Self-linkage alert!)
· Fez is becoming a superhero. It's not entirely clear what his powers are, aside from an inexplicable ability to pork young actresses with obvious self-esteem problems.
· Why do we get the feeling that Sascha Baron Cohen was somehow provoked before going apeshit on a NY Daily News photographer?

Friday
· Look, we could sit here and pretend that it's possible to do something with your evening besides put on a robe, squiggle a lightning bolt down your forehead with a Sharpie, and line up at one of L.A.'s fine booksellers for the opportunity to buy Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince shortly after midnight. But we all know that's exactly what every single one of you will already be doing. We are all J.K. Rowling's bitches now.
Saturday
· Even after we've momentarily lost our minds to Pottermania, we still dare to suggest a non-Rowling-related literary activity: 826LA (hey, where's our pirate/superhero shop, Eggers?) hosts a reading with the teen authors of Rhythm of the Chain: Young Writers Explore Teamwork. Garage bands, school buses, and refreshments figure prominently.
· Outfest screens Tammy Faye: Death Defying at the DGA. TAMMY FAYE WILL BE IN THE HIZZY. (We don't know what that means, we think we heard it on Cribs once.)
· It will cost you $35 to be lectured by an agent about "The Care and Feeding of the Screenplay" at the Writers Store (second item), but the opportunity to see that there are other people out there just as desperate as you is invaluable.
Sunday
· A weekend without music? In a word: No f'ing way. Basement Jaxx at the Hollywood Bowl; Ben Harper at the Henry Fonda; Sufjan Stevens at the El Rey. [Oops, looks like Stevens is playing on Saturday. Adjust your social calendar accordingly.]
· It's not artsy genital torture, but it is called Cinema Enema. Good enough.

And exactly as the ancient prophecy foretold, it begins. One by one, each member of the Village People will meet a cruelly ironic fate.

Defamer is committed to doing what we can to ensure that no one spends a hot Friday night alone, even if their idea of a turn-on involves reliving the death of a beloved royal while getting blown by a relative stranger. From Craigslist:

Now that Wedding Crashers has finally opened, the promotional push that's provided so many gleeful opportunities to bask in StallionMania™ will fall away abruptly, leaving us only with our Butterscotch flavored memories of the past few weeks until he once again gallops into our lives. (Of course, we promise to keep hope alive through sightings and other tidbits as they happen.) It seems fitting to handle the transition in that most time-honored of blog forms, the round-up. Tons of new StallionMania content after the jump: