Usually we're more interested in what stars are putting up their noses, veins, or anuses, but this rear-view picture of Paris Hilton leaving a Hollywood club has us wondering what's on the outside of her ass for a change. Is she trying to keep cigarettes out of her mouth or babies out of her skinny womb? Nicoderm or Ortho-Evra? Or is the pharmaceutical industry testing an anti-skank patch? If so, doesn't seem to be working. Maybe we can slap a few on Britney and increase the study's sample size.

The Defamer correspondent on Rabble-Rousing, Slovenly Directors Dining Out in Hollywood checks in with this brief report starring everyone's favorite man of the people, Michael Moore:

Friday
—The Skirball Cultural Center hosts a screening of Repulsion, Roman Polanski’s 1965 film about a schizophrenic woman who suffers from hallucinations of horrific images of rape and murder, and no, it's not about Catherine Zeta Jones. Wes Crave will be there to intro, since Mr. Polanksi wants to avoid being thrown in a jail cell for stepping on American soil.
Saturday
—All four original members of the legendary So Cal band X will be signing copies of their new double Best of Anthology (X-Make The Music Go Bang) at Tower Records on Sunset @ 3pm. More newsworthy than all original members reuniting is the fact that they managed to put together two discs worth of material for their Best Of. Can you name an X song other than that one about LA? Let punk fan hate mail begin...now.
Sunday
—Vice mag and Plant Records sponsor DJ sets by members of Elefant and Ambulance LTD and a live performance by The Fever at the Standard Downtown. Trucker hats, alcohol, the rooftop bar of a very tall building downtown...please, everybody get home in one non-splatted piece.

Polaroid Scene has pics of comedian/East Side patron saint David Cross giving his cred a little kick in the ass with a game of dodgeball. [Ed. note—We like him and realize everyone needs to eat, but nothing's making us forget about Dr. Dolittle 2.] Comedian Todd Barry is also among the red ball-flinging mob.

We hear that after months of chatter about his usefulness to flop-eriffic Paramount Pictures, co-president Tom Jacobson is getting the boot. (We smell a "Jacobson ankles Par" headline in Variety coming any minute now. We do so love those.) Paramount's remaining co-president Donald DeLine supposedly announced the reshuffling in a staff meeting today, and rumor has it that head of production Karen Rosenfelt may be getting bumped up. Jacobson may play out the string on his contract by producing a couple of dead-end projects. You know, what usually happens when an exec is put out to pasture.

How exactly do the offspring of ex-Disney executives continue to land high-profile actress bed-buddies? It would be cynical to insist that it's only because the moglets have all of Daddy's golden-parachute money to throw around. Previously, we had David Katzenberg (son of miniature DreamWorks head Jeffrey, who was famously let go by Disney) rocking the bony world of a jailbait-y, pre-rehab Mary-Kate. Now People reports that UCLA undergrad Chris Ovitz, spawn of erstwhile uberagent (and Disney-fired) Michael Ovitz, is shacking up with Eliza Dushku. Michael Eisner's three sons are gonna get so laid once he gets canned!

Get off your convention watching asses and spend a politics-free weekend in the theater. That recommendation might be bad news for The Manchurian Candidate, but whatever. It's probably insured against a weak opening by the Kerry campaign.

· Fox No, 2 Peter Chernin sets up shop inside Rupert Murdoch's duodenum for another five years. Really, residence in Murdoch's intestinal tract really isn't as bad as it sounds. It's got a hot tub, a on-call masseuse, and a roll of microfilm detailing Dick Cheney's plans for world domination. [THR]
· Viacom co-president/eventual Moonves victim Tom Freston reorganizes the conglom and reassigns duties previously performed by former bigwig Jonathan Dolgen. Freston's discovering that he really has a facility with the cat o' nine tails, and is keeping that ex-Dolgen job for himself. [THR]
· Paul Bettany is in negotiations to star as Harrison Ford's nemesis in the Warner Bros thriller The Wrong Element. The role of Harrison Ford's nemesis has previously been played by Gary Oldman, David Schwimmer, poor script choices, and tequila. [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· Fox adds 10 more episodes of mommy-swapping trainwreck Trading Spouses, announces that it won't rest until it's crushed every remaining American nuclear family on reality television. [THR]

How do you know when a publicist is lying? She's not flat on her back in an open casket. Page Six reports that Elektra star Jennifer Garner returned from the spoiled world of movie stars to the somewhat less spoiled world of TV stars and demanded a bigger, bling-ier trailer with a satellite dish on the Alias set. Naturally, her rep, Nicole King, issued a string of denials and explanations. Defamer translates and analyzes this latest instance of publicist-speak.

Blogger Anonymous Outsider decodes Adrien Brody's coffee-fueled, "Java Jitters" in a rambling interview in today's London Independent promoting The Village:

The convention's over, our stars are on their way home, and the THR sums it all up by telling us something painfully obvious: The Dems are down with starfucking. There's plenty of room in that big tent of theirs for Hollywood and its piles of cash. We'd say a "big rubber' that slips snugly over the entertainment industry would be a more apt metaphor, but the party's been riding Hollywood bareback for the duration of the DNC.

—"Yeah, you heard me right, Britney. My mothafuckin' wedding is more Kabbalah than your mothafuckin' wedding. I'm taking this shit to Is-ra-el." [Ed. note—We did see that Target is selling the magical red string bracelets. See yesterday's Kabbalirifc post.]
—Four minutes that will win more converts than all of Fahrenheit 9/11.[via Rooftop Report]
—If no one's ever been convicted by a news headline, this guy might be the first.
—Wonkette's DNC coverage is on MTV's Direct Effect. We're pretty sure she doesn't know what show she's on, but watch anyway.
—And, naturally, The Smoking Gun has Anthony Anderson's (see above) mug shot.

Local writer Kate Sullivan blogs about a nightmare interview she recently conducted with pneumatic self-abuse enabler Pamela Anderson and photographer David LaChappelle, Note to potential interviewers: Don't use the word "camp" around LaChappelle; he seems a tad sensitive about the belittling of his utterly non-campy recreations of scenes from Flashdance.

We issued the challenge and you responded with (somewhat frightening) enthusiasm. We further thank you for decoding Ted's prose on your own, as he was pretty tough on the mother tongue today. We're still looking for that secret "randomize" function in Microsoft Word that gives The Awful Truth its particular flair.

Every high-profile celebrity stalker trial needs a little comic relief from all of that dreary "the bitch will be shredded to pieces like Sharon Tate" and "See ya at the funeral" talk. The prosecutor in the Dawnette Knight case (she's the alleged stalker on trial for multiple death-threats to Catherine Zeta-Jones) throws in this laugh line to get some yuks from the jury box, which probably contains a couple of agents and producers looking to cast the lead in a Ally McBealish lawyer show:

The August issue of Details takes a look at the post-Fleiss era in Hollywood's prostitution game. The new hookers are hotter, nastier, much more expensive, internet-savvy (why would your agent risk getting popped by a vice cop on Sunset) and the johns largely drug-free. Less surprising: Many type-A power-players like to get beaten up and pissed on (sometimes at parties, in front of their friends), hire hookers to do things that make your typical credit-climbing mactress blush, and industry types sometimes sneak in a whirl with a call-girl during business hours. Whatever. If William Morris or CAA didn't want people fucking on the job, they'd lock the doors to the janitorial closets and take away everyone's expense accounts. We predict a backlash-fueled return to the sepia-toned days of crispy-haired pros, salad bowls full of blow, and guys who can't stop talking about their Ferraris long enough to get hard.

Wherein we invite our readers to scream "Vin Diesel!" each and every time the word "gay" appears in the blind items of humpy E! gossiper and destroyer of language, Ted Casablanca. This week, One (Selfish) Self-Discovery Blind Vice:

· Rush Hour hack Brett Ratner attached to direct secret, as-yet-unwritten comedy for Sony. We hope it's a romantic comedy about an overmatched video director whose tennis-star girlfriend has thighs bigger than his waist. [Variety, sub. req'd/]
· Amish in the City momentarily lifts sort-of newtork UPN out of ratings obscurity. Ratings should really go nuts when producers introduce the kids to the big city wonders of the stripper pole and crack cocaine, both hard to come by back on the farm. [THR]

According to Fox 411's Roger Friedman, veteran character actor/political pundit Alec Baldwin offered his analysis of the geographic distribution of leadership in our nation: The vast wasteland between New York and Los Angeles is "flyover country, not leadership America."

Legendary archivist of on-screen nudity Mr. Skin and iFilm collaborate on an impressive showcase of celebrities minus wardrobe. There are Oscar winners and B-listers, tasteful, character-necessary nude scenes, and shameful early-career, exploitative full-frontals. There are hoo-has and schlongs, tits and ass, and more than one appearance by Angelina Jolie, who we believe has a nudity rider that mandates she gets to throw off her top at least once per film. And there's some Tara Reid, whom we predict will soon only star in the kind of movies that will appear in showcases like this one. A girl's gotta get a return on her investment.