With Lars and the Real Girl set to open in various markets over the next few weeks—it's the buzzed-about Ryan Gosling film about a lonely misfit deluded into thinking he's fallen in love with a mail-order silicone sex doll—producers are facing a marketing challenge: Sure, the concept alone might sell tickets to a built-in, RealDoll-enthusiast audience, who'll arrive opening night with high hopes of cheerleading costumes and raunchy, multi-doll orgies. But how to get the rest of America to warm to what is in actuality a mild and sweet-natured film about small town, churchgoing folk? One solution, employed by Hollywood in the past to varying degrees of success, is to target one's sex-doll movie directly to the Christians who'd most identify with its message of universal tolerance:

Hey everybody. Nick Malis here. Since Mark is off on another one of his suspiciously frequent vacations, I'm gonna be helping Seth out as guest editor for the next two days. You may recognize me as an occasional correspondent for this very site, or from the blogs that I used to write but have now sort of abandoned: Malis in Wonderland and Cute Things Falling Asleep. But fear not, reader— I won't abandon you. Not when there's new Britney Spears crotch shots to analyze. Alright, enough jibber jabber. Let's do this!

What better way to ring in T.R. Knight-endorsed National Coming Out Day than with this TMZ TV tribute to hinge-jawed songbird, actress, and gay icon, Bette Midler. In it, she's first called a "tree murderer"—we're offered several scintillating details about a scandal involving Hawaiian zoning laws and driveway construction—only to have the accusations of arborcide retracted seconds later, in a touching endorsement of Midler's ahead-of-their-time "tree hugging" efforts, strikingly depicted by Midler humping one like a lemur in heat. Thankfully, however, the crack-filled IV drips to which the TMZ editors are permanently hooked had fully drained before they could accomplish an animation depicting the star of The Rose fertilizing her park-revitalization project using nothing more than what Gaia gave her.

· Are things getting a little testy between Joy and Whoopi? Maybe we're reading too much into some rude interruptions and a couple of possible stink-eyes, but we could be looking at the beginning of a Hasselbeck/Rosie kind of dynamic developing on The View. It's been way too long since blood has been spilled on that set.
· It took much longer than we anticipated for Bobby Brown's heart to break after losing Whitney.
· Esquire names its Sexiest Woman Alive (Until Next Year), prompting Maxim to retaliate in a rather uncharitable fashion.
· Nora Ephon has made us rethink everything we thought we knew about egg-white omelets.
· NBC's perfect storm never mises a chance to work a party.

Michelle Rodriguez will be returning to jail, TMZ reports alongside one of their trademarked mid-hiccup screen grabs, for having repeatedly violated the terms of her DUI parole. (More specifically for lying about having fulfilled her 30 days of community service.) She was sentenced to 120 days in jail, though the judge did not specify if those were Richie days or Hilton days, meaning the Lost casualty could wind up again out in under five hours and partying the same night at the Roosevelt, or forced to live out the full four months among a "primal crew" of like-minded lady convincts who live for their Friday night soap-dice craps games and extreme salt-fighting championships.

· For the three remaining people on Earth who believe that any moment they see in their favorite reality programs hasn't been meticulously constructed by a producer, here are a series of photos showing one of the countless times the The Hills has abused your trust. Also, in case you didn't know: Heidi and Spencer are androids. And not very convincing ones. [Celebslam]

As a single venti Americano tossed at a swarm of paparazzi quickly escalated into the Great Britney Bel-Air Riots of 2007, the young woman at the center of the destruction continues to chug along with what remains of her career: Jive Records announced today that Spears's new album, "Blackout" (funny—we don't remember seeing that option on the shortlist), would be released two weeks ahead of schedule.

· Music round-up Beirut at Avalon; Tiny Vipers at the El Rey; Team Facelift at Spaceland; Band of Horses at Amoeba.
· The Promenade Playhouse in Santa Monica offers a free screening of Danny DeVito/Kevin Spacey vehicle The Big Kahuna, with director John Swanback on hand for the inevitable "So what is Kevin Spacey really like?" post-show questions.
· Skylight Books hosts the editors and publishers of Make/Shift magazine as they celebrate their second issue with readings by Stephanie Abraham, Myriam Gurba, Erin Aubry Kaplan, and Dean Spade.

Perhaps the worst letdown we experienced today was finally figuring out that Optimus Prime was not, in fact, recruiting us to fight the Decepticons, and was only interested in using us as his dirty, DVD-buying whore. We promised that we'd never let ourselves get manipulated like that again after Samuel L. Jackon and Alec Baldwin had their ways with us, but we are so very, very weak in the face of precorded, lightly personalized messges delivered by authoritative male voices. [Transformersmovie.com]

To the outsider, being a part of Deal or No Deal's army of briefcase-opening models might seem like an easy gig, requiring little more than standing on a riser and offering the occasional, sheepishly sympathetic smile to a contestant whose dreams of financial independence they've just destroyed by revealing a dollar amount with too many zeroes.

As a reward for assisting DreamWorks in the daring sting operation that prevented further leaking of secrets related to the production of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of This Thing My Wife Bought At Liberace's Estate Sale, a grateful Steven Spielberg invited some members of the online press to the Universal backlot for an audience with the national treasure himself. Once there, he informed his awed guests about his ongoing debate with CGI-happy Indy partner George Lucas on their differing filmmaking philosophies. Reports /Film:

Another month, another requirement to shoehorn some north-of-the-border content into the Defamer proceedings—part of a comprehensive 200-year restitution deal for those regrettable Canadian containment camps of WWII. Little Mosque on the Prairie—think Aliens in America (shot in Vancouver, ironically enough) as interpreted by the cast of Degrassi Junior High— has been awarded with a peace prize, raising the CBC sitcom with the somewhat backbacon-handed take on Islamic race relations to the esteemed ranks of Bishop Tutu and Jimmy Carter:

PETA kicks Britney Spears while she's down, putting ideas into Kevin Federline's head about trying to get custody of her beloved Yorkie: "If a court feels she is in no shape to care for her own kids, she certainly shouldn't be trusted with pets." [OK!]

· Showing a Baueresque level of self-sacrifice, Kiefer Sutherland takes one for his TV team, pleading out to 48 days of jail time that can be served on a two-stint schedule that won't interrupt the shooting of 24, even though he probably could have served fewer days if he'd opted for a consecutive sentence. If eighteen months of being tortured by the Chinese couldn't break him, seven weeks should be a breeze. [THR]
· After putting up "solid" premiere numbers, ABC's bold Cavemen experiment falters, dropping off 25 percent in its second week. Enjoy your lovable, squash-playing, Swedish-furniture-hawking Neanderthals while you still can. [Variety]

Seeking to protect his good, boy-band-shepherding name, currently incarcerated manager Lou "Big Poppa" Pearlman has reached out to Radar to refute accusations made in the November issue of Vanity Fair that part of his proven hit-making formula included taking his underage charges to strip clubs, giving them the occasional aura-enhancing shoulder-and-ab rub, or sharing funny, Whoops! How did that hardcore pornographic footage get onto this rented Star Wars VHS tape? The guy behind the beaded curtain at Tom's Triple X Video Shack will be getting a piece of my mind! male-bonding moments. The best of Pearlman's itemized explanations follow:

Stop us if you think you've heard this one before: A Grey's Anatomy star, embroiled in a behind-the-scenes controversy that simply refuses—despite the best efforts of millions across the globe, holding aloft bottles of Coke and singing about TV-doctor harmony—to die, has taped an important message about tolerance for GLAAD. Only this time, it's not Isaiah "Bigger Than Jesus and Barack" Washington doing the talking, but his velvety nemesis, T.R. Knight.

There is perhaps nothing more awe-inducing than when internet-enabled mortal and celebrity obsession come together through the power of the blogspots. But unlike If I Blog It They Will Come, a blog that existed for no reason but to post a picture of Kevin Costner holding up their homepage (and succeeded), the PopMuse blog was just venting about pet ailments when who should stop by in the comments section but their epileptic dog's Alderaanian namesake:

Hoping to book a halftime act that's far less likely to attempt to sexually assault America's delicate eyeballs with a 50-foot, hellfire-ejaculating demonschlong, the NFL is reportedly close to booking The Eagles as its Super Bowl headliners. Still, we wouldn't rule out the possibility that Glenn Frey might whip it out during an abbreviated version of Desperado or Don Henley might show some nip. [SportsByBrooks]

Hoping to supplement a recently issued official denial of Friday's Deadline Hollywood Daily story claiming that he's no longer interested in throwing his money down a vagina-shaped well by producing female-star-driven features, Warner Bros. president of production Jeff Robinov takes to the trades today to reaffirm his studio's continuing commitment to lady-based entertainments, helpfully running down for Variety every chick flick he's made, wishes he'd made, or one day plans to make:

Truth be told, the contents of Jennifer Lopez's uterus don't particularly interest us, though we do harbor a suspicion that she's been parading around with a false, early-term baby-bump in which she stores a self-authored script for prospective comeback vehicle Enough II: Never Enough and the ostentatious engagement ring she received at the height of the Bennifer craze, hoping that the conspicuous bulge might revive some interest in her career.