In a shocking snippet of video evidence that literally knocked the wind right out of us, TMZ's worldwide sober-starlet-trailing operation (we imagine it like something out of Bourne Ultimatum, with Harvey Levin in a Joan Allen wig barking orders at a tightly wound team parked at hi-tech monitoring terminals) has captured a stunning New Year's Eve relapse that could have direct implications on your children's safety:

While high-profile Barack Obama supporters like George Clooney have publicly fretted about how too many showbiz endorsements might taint their candidate in the heartland and offered to support him from a safe distance, new Obamamania cheerleader Scarlett Johansson threw such caution to the wind yesterday, delivering a fifteen minute (!) speech in Iowa that removed all doubt about which Democratic candidate has the support of Hollywood's bustiest, most politically active ingenues. [Open All Night Via Jezebel]

A helpful MUNI-station artiste in San Francisco wanted to make sure there would be no confusion when it came to Sylvester Stallone's much-anticipated upcoming release: You'll be catching Rambo, the tale of a jungle mercenary eviscerating the Burmese with a machine gun and machete, not Rimbaud, the tale of a 19th century French gay poet whose life was already committed to film by a young Leonardo DiCaprio in Total Eclipse. Clearer now? [Slash Film]

Kudos to Focus Features' marketing department for injecting some sex into Atonement's For Your Consideration ad campaign by choosing this signature image of Keira Knightley, in which the actress emerges sopping wet from her family estate's fountain in a clingy, see-through slip, as the one that best represents the candidacy of both their critically beloved literary adaptation and director Joe Wright. Sure, the awe-inspiring tracking shot of a war-torn Dunkirk might have been an option that more vividly illustrated Wright's technical skills, but sometimes voters just want to break up the monotony of flipping though the trades by gawking at half-naked ladies.

Predating the rest of the tabloid-come-latelys by many decades has given rack-based supermarket literature giant National Enquirer the clear advantage in the art of front-page editing: Whereas a lesser publication might have focused their special yo-yoing celebrity physique issue on one or two studies, perhaps cheapening the proceedings with a disparaging reference to "Jennifer Love Saddlebags," the Enquirer instead gives us a breathtaking mosaic comprised of famous-fatso body parts, accompanied by captions that make clever use of familiar references—"From 'Batman' to Fatman!" and "20 more pounds - Not a good thing!" standing out in particular.

Though we've already awarded victory in last night's Return of Late Night TV talk-show wars to Conan O'Brien, whose downy Strike Beard simultaneously displayed solidarity with his absent writing staff and offered comfort to millions of fans anxious about how Hollywood's labor unrest affects the Masturbating Bear's ability to release the painful tension in his ursine nether-regions, we think it's important that everyone be provided with an opportunity to make up their own minds about whether the jokes scripted by Guild scribes were actually more successful than ones delivered by hosts forced to generate their own material. To that end, Gawker Media video operative Richard Blakeley whipped up this montage (click the above thumbnail to view) allowing you to compare their parallel efforts at entertaining America. Enjoy.

Stubbornly refusing to do the easy thing and cancel all of its soon-to-debut scripted programming and switch to the all-American-Idol format that would guarantee that it dominate their strike-decimated competition in every available timeslot, Fox is shuffling around its midseason schedule in a series of moves that may or may not have been made by their network's brightest, currently bored assistants. The sad upshot: we're going to have to wait until summer for the premiere of eagerly anticipated gyno-dystopia reality series When Women Rule The World, in which Fox allows a dozen catfight-prone ladies to run a society based on the subjugation of male personal trainers trying to kick-start their acting careers. [Variety]

In a prestigious delegation sure to keep his newly single nose out of trouble as he recovers from his failed marriage, Sean Penn has been dispatched to the topless-French-whore-filled beaches of Cannes to head up the awards jury of that French resort city's annual film festival:

Seemingly suffering from the same cash-flow problems that would afflict any recovering addict who spends the time he or she should be earning a paycheck pinballing between rehab stints, thrice-dried-out struggling actress Lindsay Lohan is apparently doing whatever it takes to make ends meet during some lean times that show no signs of imminent improvement. Having recently been accused of trying to cut herself in on potentially lucrative photo opportunities that usually enrich only paparazzi agencies and the tabloids, according to Gatecrasher, Lohan may now be reaching out to friends—both of the personal and corporate varieties—for her mad money:

Last night, America's late night talk show hosts went to back to work. Letterman and the Scottish Guy had their writing staff, as Letterman's production company worked out a deal with the WGA. Leno and Conan, stuck with the less liberal negatiators of NBC, were unable to work out a deal and went on writer-less. Conan filled the time with close-ups of his strike beard and a thrilling segment in which he spun his wedding ring on his desk for 36 seconds. Leno, though, delivered a monologue that was more or less indistinguishable in its bland hackiness from any other Tonight Show monologue of the last dozen years. Because, as he admitted part-way through, he wrote it himself. In advance. In specific violation of WGA rules! (Leno—like Letterman, like Conan, and unlike Kimmel Carson Daly [whoops]—is a WGA member.) We caught this when we flipped over to Leno for a sec during Letterman's punchier, Made In America By Union Labor monologue, and Nikki Finke confirms its odd interpretation of WGA guidelines. [Deadline Hollywood Daily]

Our obsessive (and, quite frankly, exhausting) documentation of The Return of Late Night is finally complete with this clip of Conan O'Brien's monologue (click the thumbnail above to watch it), one that was easily the most successful of tonight's offerings. Not only did O'Brien express his unequivocal solidarity with his absent writers' cause (not a picketing-related gripe here, ahem) and give them much-deserved credit for the comedy miracle that is the Masturbating Bear, he debuted a Strike Beard even more impressive than Letterman's; whereas Dave's new facial hair broadcasts grizzled, "I choked a drifter to death just to watch him die" menace, Conan's—the first of his life, he claims—is all Rankin-and-Bass-inspired auburn magic.

Thanks to the deal that David Letterman's Worldwide Pants production company struck with WGA, The Late Late Show's Craig "He'll Always Be Drew Carey's Boss To Us" Ferguson also had the benefit of his full writing staff. Displaying a refreshing magnanimity, the host promised that even though his picket-line-free program could now easily get him access to a higher quality of guest than he could have attracted before the strike, he'll still welcome the D-listers who stood by him during his lean times. (Kathy Griffin is, of course, touchingly namechecked as a beneficiary of his offer.) Bonus points have been awarded to Ferguson's scribes for supplying him with the "I fucked Paul Shaffer" jokes we'd secretly hoped that the newly bearish Letterman would use to break the sexual tension of his long-awaited reunion with his trusty bandleader.

Jimmy Kimmel Live started out with a bawdy jibe about fathering a teenage Spears lovechild—a gem likely polished to perfection while lying in a bathtub and staring at two hairy kneecaps protruding from the milky water—but then things took a serious and controversial turn: After offering his audience a primer on what it is strikers are asking for (free internet access), Kimmel said that he didn't want to "depart too much from the party line," then proceeded to board a Party Line Getaways Jet Tours Adventure, railing against "ridiculous" picket lines and SAG's blacklist bullying of potential guests, before demanding that the public "run down these weasel-faced Commies" until their "red insides fill your tire treads." Then he turned to deadpan security guard Veatrice for her take on the labor unrest.

Hoping to win back The Tonight Show audiences (who, let's face it, just want their nightly dose of Kevin Eubanks and could really give a fuck what the Writers League of America wants or needs), Jay Leno bounds over picket lines and back into our hearts with a heartfelt plea for the livelihoods of the 141 members of his staff not responsible for highlighting and dry mounting those funny little newspaper clippings sent in by viewers. Tragically, where his CBS nemesis succeeded in finding a workable solution with the Guild—which has had Leno's sympathy and donuts since the very start!—The Tonight Show could not, leaving the juiciest of cross-denominational bistro-patron set-ups punchlineless, for the time being at least.

Sporting an intimidating beard meant to show the effects of his difficult, two-month-long, tragically scribe-deprived hibernation, David Letterman symbolically crossed a twirling line formed by his Eugene V. Debs Picket Dancers and returned to work, bolstered by the full services of his newly contracted Guild writers. We haven't seen Jay Leno's opening yet, but we're going to assume he won't be doing a self-effacing version of the picket-line bit, wary that the saboteurs who've previously feasted on a vulnerable Carson Daly might have infiltrated his dance troupe, ready to paddle him with "Shame on You, Jay!" signs for going back to work without his striking staff.

For those of you whose DVRs lack the capacity to capture all of the action from tonight's much-ballyhooed Return Of The Late Night Talk Shows, we've got you covered: In just a few short hours, we'll be posting clips from the monologues of each host frog-marched before the cameras—even Craig Ferguson, probably!—to see how each handles the delicate matter of explaining to America why they're back at work while their writers are still outside on the picket line without actually using the words, "The network threatened to execute every below-the-line employee if I didn't come back tonight." (Or in the case of Letterman and Ferguson, we'll look at how they show off the competitive advantage that cutting a deal with the WGA affords them.) See you then for what promises to be a magically awkward evening! [Bearded Letterman photo: AP]

· Whew! For a minute there, we thought that Celebrity Rehab miracle worker Dr. Drew had somehow figured out a way to exorcise Andy Dick of the booze-craving demons that make him Hollywood's most lovable, semi-recovering addict. But once a bottle of beer, a bicycle, and an eager audience of photographers were introduced, even the good doctor's famed sobriety coaching never stood a chance. [via TMZ]
· A bold prediction: Bedazzled mugshots will be all the rage with the troubled starlet set in '08, a trend that will add some much-needed flair to the uniformly dreary prison-intake photography that was the hallmark of the previous year.
· Hunky SF mayor Gavin Newsom decides to marry an actress, but we've fallen so hopelessly out of touch with his ill-advised dips into the Hollywood dating pool that we mistakenly thought he was still shacked up with the one from CSI: Miami. We regret the error, and promise to pay more careful attention to the candidates for his eventual third marriage.
· How many dudes can Lindsay Lohan hook up with in a 24-hour period? This many.

Your post-5 p.m. cavalcade of weep-inducing good news continues with these five little life-changing words: "Liza Minnelli will sing again." After collapsing during a performance in Sweden, the performer's lawyer, Allen Arrow, wouldn't elaborate on her condition, only to offer a reassuring, "Not to worry," when asked if she was to continue with her current tour. There's still tickets for her next area dates, February 23 and 24 at the "Frank Sinatra Countrywide Celebrity Golf Tournament" in Indian Wells! Catch the legend while you still* can!

You just never know what's going to set someone off, and for us—oh boy, here come the waterworks!—a smile on the face of Kanye West after finally kicking Beyoncé's booty in a marathon Connect Four competition was all it took. In a blog post entitled "THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT," his first statement since his mom's sudden death following cosmetic surgery in November, the commander-in-chief caller-outer describes the godsend of vertical checkers therapy:

Courtesy of an executive still giddy from the staggering success of one of the box office's most critically reviled current releases, here's an insider's guide on How To Tell When You've Got A Monster Hit On Your Hands: "THE Nov. 11 test screening of "Alvin and the Chipmunks" was halfway over when the power in Westlake Village cut out. The emergency lights inside the Mann Village 8 came on, but most of preview guests still wouldn't leave their seats. After some 20 minutes in the near dark, 20th Century Fox canceled the screening — the last one possible before "Alvin" was locked and no more editing changes would be possible. As soon as the theater emptied, though, the power was restored, and the Fox executives were nearly trampled when the majority of the audience rushed back in. 'That was when I sort of said, "I think this movie is going to catch,"' said Elizabeth Gabler, whose Fox 2000 division joined with 20th Century Fox Animation to supervise production." [LAT]