Michael Julianelle of online mag Intrepid Media recounts a recent Brush With Ben Affleck While Employed In A Service Capacity at Boston restaurant Union Street. After word of Affleck's Pope-like gracing of the eating establishment leaked out, the media showed up to scour the premises for any blessed relics of The Visit. "US Weekly, People Magazine, the Boston Herald, something called the Star...all of them sent emissaries or made phone calls in an attempt to learn exactly what Ben ate, who he was with, what he was wearing (leather pants, I swear!), even where he sat." The writer gets a little fed up with all the coverage, and offers this imagined exchange as Affleck exited the restaurant:

It's becoming obvious that today's Defamer will be hijacked by the likes of Britney Spears, the Olsens, and Colin Farrell's Supposedly Enormous Johnson. There's little we can do but give Brit a shoulder to lean on, hold Mary-Kate's hair, and try not to get our eye poked out by Farrell's renegade member. Alas, now the spectre of controversy is dangling around Farrell, as a well-informed reader thinks there's something amiss with the Irishman's on-screen junk:

A helpful reader sends us a link to a German site with a video clip of Ms. Spears' Wild Paparazzi Ride. A working knowledge of German is not required to enjoy the video, as the moving pictures assuredly speak the international language of "pop star apeshit." That being said, Babelfish helpfully translates the title beside the clip as "Britneys nut/mother f?t a Paparazzi over!")

Sister site Gawker has an incredible, unhinged, highly amusing e-mail from Ian Spiegelman to magazine writer Doug Dechert. Spiegelman was reportedly fired from the NY Post's Page Six after NYDN gossip columnist Lloyd Grove...whatever, our head is already starting to hurt and we're losing motor control on our right side. Read about it on Gawker. Who knew that Ian Spiegelman was a Norman Mailer fan? Here's an excerpt:

Proving that anyone with a few million in the bank and no ideas can become a producer, the publisher of favored 'tween spank mags Maxim and Stuff has set up shop in Hollywood. Dennis Publishing's Moving Pictures will focus on "projects that reflect the young male ethos of the Dennis pubs, as well as mining those magazines for potential TV, feature, and DVD treatment." OK, go ahead and make your Maxim movies and TV shows. But if teenagers and frat boys want to jerk off to the comely young stars of the WB, can't they just turn on Smallville and cut out the middle man?

Let's set the record straight: In all of the photographic evidence we've seen, Britney Spears is indeed using her crutch in a proper manner (the original item we ran on her crutch technique was corrected minutes after it was originally posted, but we're still getting e-mail insisting we're wrong).

The NYDN's Rush & Molloy report that Demi Moore's reps spent yesterday denying the rumors that Ashton Kutcher's sperm successfully fertilized her egg, and that after a standard gestation period, she would bring forth a baby bearing his some of his DNA. Naturally, a flack's denial immediately had us shopping for the baby shower. But maybe we really shouldn't have been so credulous—isn't Demi 58 years old and Kutcher about 6 and 1/2? Their romance might be defying the odds, but whether her uterus can is another story entirely.

The British Sun's "Bizarre" column reports that Colin Farrell's penis is SO HUGE that it distracted test audiences for his film A Home At The End Of The World. So off-putting was the massive schlong that it was cut from a nude scene. Says their source, "All you could hear were gasps when Colin appeared in his full-frontal pose. The women were over-excited and the men looked really uncomfortable. It was such a sight it made it difficult to concentrate on the plot, so the decision was made to get rid of it."

Low Culture sums up the economics of Hollywood in two sentences. It's a little long for a tattoo, but just short enough to carve into your Entertainment Weekly editor's desk with a letter opener:

Looks like Fahrenheit 9/11 will open wide on Friday with an R rating. Michael Moore and his distributors lost their appeal to MPAA ratings board to release the film with a PG-13 so that more teens could see the film. After the hearing, MPAA head Jack Valenti was heard muttering under his breath, "Teenagers? They're just going to go home and throw one of those unprotected anal sex parties with the hip-hop, then steal the movie off the inter-thing."

The Fox marketing department, which has to receive a large share of the credit for DodgeBall's box office victory over The Terminal, is once again on the loose. They've even started advertising I, Robot on their employee's paycheck envelopes. An Employee of the Month blogger notes Fox's savvy grab for the coveted, previously underserved letter carrier demographic:

From Variety, on the manifold pleasures of White Chicks:

Never ones to disappoint, our pals at the Smoking Gun have already posted the court papers from the Jeri and Jack Ryan Sex Flap. Jeri claims that Jack would take her on "supposed 'romantic' getaways" that turned out to be sex clubs in New York and Paris, featuring such "romantic" accouterments as "mattresses in cubicles," and "cages, whips, and other apparatus hanging from the ceiling," Unfortunately for the "romantic" Jack, he didn't find it a "turn on" when Jeri would break down in tears when he brought her to have sex in front of other couples. Maybe things would have gone smoother if he'd set the mood by scattering some rose petals on the mattress in the cubicle.

People.com is reporting that one of the Olsen twins is in rehab for an eating disorder:

Sad news for fans of four-dollar bottled water and anonymous festival sex in porta-potties: Lollapalooza has canceled all dates for its 2004 tour due to poor ticket sales. (The festival had a local date at the Ventura County Fairgrounds July 22nd). We suggest that all ticket holders gather in the parking lot of the Fairgrounds and get high anyway; SoCal Morrissey fans can hang out on the perimeter in their BMWs and bitch about how these fucking KROQ kids can't, like, possibly understand his music.

Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent in by our readers. Send yours to tips@defamer.com and let the famous know that every time they drive out of their gated homes, we are watching.

Actress Jeri Ryan, best known as Seven of Nine, the most favored masturbation target in the history of the Star Trek franchise, alleges in court papers (filed in 2000) that her ex-husband pressured her to go to sex clubs and perform sexual activities in front of other couples. Oh, and her ex-husband is Jack Ryan, the Republican senatorial candidate from Illinois. (We'll leave it up to sister blog Wonkette to detail the undoubtedly hilarious political implications). We just hope that they managed to keep the sex hijinks in da club and away from the hotel rooms at the Trekkie conventions. It's way too early in the morning for us to handle the image of a Republican, Jeri Ryan, a guy in a Klingon mask, and a midget dressed as a Tribble banging away in a Borgy at the Burbank Ramada Inn.

Blogger A Fly On The Wall, who broke the news of the Julia Roberts pregnancy, again has his ear to Hollywood's star-making uterus. Fly claims that Demi Moore has told her CAA agents that she's knocked up. Sadly, this almost certainly means that she's been spunk'd by Ashton Kutcher, and his genes will survive to annoy yet another generation. If only our plan to sterilize everyone in a trucker hat had caught on...

Here's another pic from the World of Britney site. A reader points out that the knee brace is on her left knee, but her crutch is on the right side. (Lest you think she was just resting with the crutch, there are three more shots on the site that show the same thing—if the permalink doesn't work, just scroll to the bottom of the page). Either Britney hasn't yet figured out how to work a crutch, or she really, really didn't want to go on tour so that she could hang out with her skeezy dancer boyfriend. If she's goldbricking to avoid a tour, why didn't she just go with the time-worn method of a rehab stint? (We admit that this whole thing is a creepy mix of Zapruder film obsessiveness and Tiger Beat pajama party, but such is our lot in life. We now return to our scheduled morning hour of examining Lindsay Lohan photos for cleavage scars.)

—"Dear Madonna, Remember when you were Catholic? Every few months or so, we'd issue a statement saying that you were a big whore. It was really good publicity, and kind of fun. Please come back. We don't want all the world's aspiring whores signing up for the Kabbalah Center. Love, The Pope"