As we know there's nothing quite as fascinating as discussing the internal reorganization of publicity firms, we note that Pat "The Iron Flack" Kingsley, the celebrity enforcer once so feared it was rumored that she could crush the windpipe of a too-pushy journalist from across a junket venue with a mere pinch of her fingers, is "stepping down" from the chairman and chief executive roles at PMK/HBH after three decades of leadership. But how will the legend and the troika of mouthpieces rising to fill her place in the corporate hierarchy spin the move? With a self-deprecating "I'm getting too old for this management crap" torch-passing, according to the LAT:

For the love of all that is good and holy, don't click here. Just don't.

Proving once again that his finger is firmly on the pulse of what is hot in other countries, in the decades before his network slid into fourth place, or at the multiplex three months ago, NBC's perfect TV executive storm Ben Silverman has made yet another bold programming move that should shame his overly cautious, Idol-dependent, Cavemen-greenlighting rivals: according to Variety, his Peacock is bringing back Knight Rider, preparing a two-hour backdoor pilot that will reintroduce audiences to an updated series about the love between a man and his sassy, wisecracking supercar.

Even though there's still no publicly scheduled end to Lindsay Lohan's stint at Cirque Lodge (corporate motto: "When Malibu's Promises are broken, head to the mountains of Utah."), other rehabilitation centers need to stay proactive if they hope to win the troubled actress's business following her next coke-panted, hostage-taking relapse.

After fifteen frustrating minutes of arguing with superannuated gossip columnist Liz Smith, the copy editor finally surrendered, sighing, "Fine, Liz, you're right. The name of the actress who starred in Splash is, in fact, Harryl Dannah. Have it your way." [Variety]

Thanks to today's iTunes release of the Wes Anderson short Hotel Chevalier, in which legendarily modest Natalie Portman finally fulfills some of the semi-nude promise hinted at in her suspiciously clothing-positive turn as a stripper in Closer, long-frustrated Star Wars fans finally have the crucial missing piece in their Amidala-centered masturbatory fantasies.

Sadly, we never made it to Rufus Wainright at the Bowl Sunday night—an historic, song-by-song recreation of a classic Judy Garland performance that climaxed with the singer literally being wheeled into a glittery birthing suite and, in a deft bit of stage magic, proceeding to produce a shivering, naked Liza Minelli from between his legs for an unforgettable duet of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" that left not a dry eye in the house.

· Music round-up: !!! at Avalon; Klaxons at the Henry Fonda; Hello Stranger at the Roxy.
· Carol Muske-Dukes signs Channeling Mark Twain at Dutton's, her novel about a newlywed "who becomes increasingly, and perhaps dangerously, involved with the female inmates who attend her jailhouse poetry workshops." We've already cast Hilary Swank in the eventual feature adaptation.
· At the UCB Theatre, Owen Burke, Chad Carter, and Human Giants Paul Scheer and Rob Huebel once again conduct their ritualistic, improvisational savaging of lucky audience members' MySpace pages.

All the hard work that Tom Cruise and the Valkyrie team spent convincing a stubbornly indecisive German government to allow their film to shoot in the Bendlerblock, one of its most hallowed landmarks, was nearly squandered when a pranstker insensitive to their shooting location's place in the country's history decided to interrupt a respectful moment of silence with a perfectly timed fart-take. According to a report in the Daily Mail that's denser with flatulence synonyms than perhaps any piece of prose we've ever read, Cruise was allegedly less than amused:

CNN.com is reporting that Judge Larry Paul Fidler has just declared a Phil Spector mistrial, the hung jury still split 10-2. (That means there's been three converts since the original 7-5, but we don't yet know if favor of what.) We're not sure what we're supposed to be feeling right now; we're mulling outrage, but then we start picturing that adorable Great Dane and that parade of fun wigs and we just can't seem to muster it—which could very likely be the same thought process going through the minds of those stubborn holdouts.

Just in case the poor, overexcited extra who unwisely spilled George Lucas and Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull secrets to his hometown paper last week was clinging to any crazy hopes that all would be quickly forgiven and forgotten, one look at this image jumping from studio inbox to inbox will probably confirm his darkest fears that his Russian dancing days could be over before they really began.

Perhaps concerned that the public might not be internalizing the post-incarceration "Paris Hilton is now a productive, selfless, and globally aware member of society" message they're pushing as quickly as they'd planned, Hilton's image-rehabilitation team is temporarily tabling those obviously ineffective Children's Hospital drop-ins in favor of a more dramatic plan: a trip to Rwanda, a place so war-torn and impoverished that no one will be able to accuse her of being there to raise awareness of her perfume or clothing lines:

"Yesterday (Tuesday) was my first visit to a Pinkberry. Just to see what all the crap was about. It was Pinkberry on Ventura Blvd. As I walked in, walking out the door and right past me was none other than a very wide-looking, pulverizing-looking MIKE TYSON in matching mustard-yellow silk shirt and pants, holding a cup of Pinkberry. [...] The strangest thing was that he left the Pinkberry, got into [his] car, and then went back to the entrance of the Pinkberry, seemed to turn around and go back to the car... like four times. It was as if he wanted someone to say hi to him. I mean, we all knew it was Mike Tyson, but, I mean, seriously, would YOU say anything to Mike Tyson?"

A reader sent us this recent photo of a radiant Rosie O'Donnell on the set of Nip/Tuck, fully recovered from her recent waffle iron-related injuries, standing alongside four gogo boy background players, which we happily pass along to you. (And if you'd like to get any of the beefcake talent on display involved in your current project, we're told bringing a wallet stuffed with low-denomination bills to Here and/or MJs will at the very minimum get you some face-time with their agent.)

· NBC angers its network rivals by working some technically allowed, but "morally" questionable, Nielsen voodoo by repeating its Heroes premiere on Saturday night and adding that showing's ratings to the series' original Monday night number. We think. This developing feud over ratings-reporting gamesmanship is as confusing as it is scintillating. [Variety]
· In simpler Nielsen-related news, House is still huge, averaging 18.1 million viewers in its best-ever performance not artificially enhanced by an American Idol lead-in [THR]
· Creative triple-threat Kevin James will write, produce, and star in Mall Cop. We'll refrain from relating the logline and let your imaginations run wild with the comedic possibilities evoked by the combination of America's most beloved schlub and that offbeat occupation. [Variety]
· Fox calls up Nip/Tuck creator Ryan Murphy from its FX basic-cable farm team to their network major league club, giving a series commitment to Murphy's female workplace drama Queen B. [THR]
· NBC will bottle up eight midseason episodes of Mark Burnett's latest reality TV brain fart, My Dad Is Better Than Your Dad, which seeks to combine "the family fun and kid empowerment of '[Are You Smarter Than A] 5th Grader' with the universally relatable concept of bragging that your dad is best." It's still unclear whether or not the proud fathers in question will be required to beat each other senseless at the end of each show to truly prove their paternal supremacy. [Variety]

Yet more from the ongoing custody battle between Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards, which began as a shame-free environment, and has quickly degenerated from there: Richards has now employed a former nanny to make several nauseating allegations about Sheen inappropriately touching his daughters. Not that he's all bad: She also acknowledges that Charlie has made an effort at mending fences, particularly with the following retraction:

Today, the creative dream team of American Idol host/tireless megaproducer Ryan Seacrest and America's Got Talent judge/off-key finale-stealer David Hasselhoff have announced their promising collaboration on Tales From the Hoff, a scripted E! series that should provide a much-needed respite from the celebrity-fellating network's nonstop countdown-related programming. If you've ever furrowed a brow at the actor's repeated attempts at sustaining a post-Baywatch show business career and thought to yourself, "This man's sad quest to remain relevant to a generation that's never even heard of Knight Rider would make a darkly funny television show," then this upcoming project will quickly find itself on your Season Pass list, according to Var:

When Kiefer Sutherland wandered out of his East Side comfort zone—where drunken U-turns aren't just legal, they're encouraged!—and into the glare of a West L.A. cop car's spotlight, few of us immediately realized that the ensuing arrest constituted a probation violation for the beloved, tannenbaum-tackling lush-of-the-people. Now, with the actor facing possible jail time and all the ominous God-finding that implies, we offer a Kiefer post-DUI round-up:

With Lindsay Lohan still in threehab exile in the mountains of Utah, Paris Hilton's publicists actively selling the idea that she's turned over her life to , image-rehabilitative, begrudging acts of charity, and Britney Spears likely tied up with court-ordered child-neglect-reduction classes, Page Six officially nominates Pam Anderson as its Great White Trainwreck Hope, betting that her "increasingly wild behavior" will fill the void created by the Big Three's temporarily lower profiles.