Hoping to further exploit the seemingly inexhaustible demand for stories about the Denali-jacking, coke-panted, briefly-incarcerated-but- frequently-rehabbed starlets whose misadventures move as much tabloid product as the public can choke down, producer Joe Nasser—you may know him as the mastermind responsible for the upcoming Willa Ford vehicle Anna Nicole—today announces his intention to eventually bring Celebutard: The Motion Picture (inferior working title: Hollywood Brats) to the big screen. Reports the Times:

On Sunday night, HBO debuted new drama Tell Me You Love Me, the flagship show in a post-Sopranos lineup the suddenly hit-deficient network is promoting under its unwieldy new slogan, "It's Not TV, It's TV With Tons of Graphic Fucking. Like, a LOT of Fucking. Hey, Did We Just Show You That Guy's Balls? You Bet We Did."

Apparently, the cable company employee responsible for making sure that the internet access at Defamer HQ functions properly has either suffered a stroke or taken the day off, as we've been experiencing intermittent outages all morning. We promise to do our best to fight through this incredible adversity and deliver time-wasting content to the ten or so Hollywood employees required to be at work today. As always, thank you for bearing with us in these difficult times such as.

· Just for the proverbial shits n' giggles, here's another clip from Dr. Phil's Late Show appearance last night. Panties, or the lack thereof, are discussed.
· The LAT gets to know Hoboken Beach Diet Guy, with whom you're already probably pretty well acquainted by now.
· Leave Britney Alone Guy gets his Gallery of the Absurd moment. Also, his Howard Stern moment. And his ABC News moment.
· Ben Affleck's Gone Baby Gone might not become a huge hit in the UK.

As we all learned yesterday through two minutes and eleven seconds of the most affecting moving images ever transmitted over the YouTubes, even though it sometimes seems as if the entire world has turned on turned on VMA exploitation victim Britney Spears, there are still those willing to reach out to her as she tries to navigate this seemingly endless dark night of the erstwhile-pop-star soul. In the interest of connecting Spears with the generous, but anonymity-valuing, individuals offering to help her through these difficult times, we pass along this note from a Craiglister:

Here's another capsule of unrepresented-artist-on-the-street interviews, lovingly captured and compiled by Defamer staff videologist Molly McAleer. At Artist Force, a wide-open mic for emerging and undiscovered talent held at Safari Sam's, it doesn't matter what you look like or what your act consists of: It's probably better than Britney Spears was at the VMAs, and that's good enough for them. Just ask Smalls, the evening's intimidatingly sized emcee, who himself looks like he may have stumbled into the showcase emceeing business after he deemed bodyguarding the bottomed-out, cooch-flashing starlet a job that offered little long-term security.

· Music round-up: Kinksi at the Echo; Pinback at Amoeba, The Starting Line at the Troubadour; night three of three for Spoon at the Henry Fonda.
· AFI's "100 Years...100 Stars" series screens Mae West's She Done Him Wrong at the ArcLight.
· Competing party-promoting outfits want your name on their VIP lists for tonight's Mr. Woodcock pre-release event at Mood, romising "special guest appearances" by unnamed members from the "cast, crew, and production."

Leaks continue to spill forth from Rosie O'Donnell's upcoming memoir, Celebrity Detox. And unlike the last batch—which offered the fanciful imagery of Donald Trump as both a scarecrow stuffed with U.S. currency, and a tiny, combforwarded garden slug—the pictures conjured by this latest excerpt were disturbing enough to send us running for our Cirque du Soleil brand inversion therapy swings. From The Insider:

• Bob Pitches A Movie [Superdeluxe]

Ignoring for a moment the outrageous claims that she was genetically engineered to keep her greedy gay daddies in handcrafted loafers and Bahamian houseboys well into old age, the fairytale ending we all dreamed of for Dannielynn Hope Smith Birkhead appears to have finally come to pass. Only days ago, she celebrated her first birthday, opening dozens of gifts at a lavish party. (Her favorite: a real, semi-dehydrated pony from "all your loving godparents at ET and The Insider.") Now, following in the unsteady footsteps of her mommy, she's already scored her first E! reality show:

Not afraid to get topical in its efforts to document the alcohol-enhanced wit and wisdom of Hollywood clubgoers as they wobbily emerge from our city's finest, most exclusive drinking establishments, TMZ TV discovered that while a long night of boozing may inhibit a person's ability to recall the exact date of the tragic 9-11 tourist attacks of the Iraq that took place between two and five years ago, it seems to have no ill effect on one's capacity for listing the names of Angelina Jolie's children. We've never been prouder to call Los Angeles our home.

• New Media Marketing Director - Epitaph, Los Angeles, CA

· In case you haven't heard, Jon Stewart is going to host the Oscars again. Obligatory press release self-deprecation follows: "I'm thrilled to be asked to host the Academy Awards for the second time because, as they say, the third time's the charm." [Variety, THR]
· NBC greenlights a pilot for Rat Entertainment's cop drama Blue Blood, a project that will see the collision of irresistible party-boy force Brett Ratner with immovable rock-star object Ben Silverman, unleashing a wave of good-time energy that will likely reduce all of Hollywood to smoldering rubble. [Variety]
· The next time Hell's Kitchen star Gordon Ramsay sears his scrotum on a hot oven, it will be an Endeavor agent who holds the bowl of ice water into which he can dip his still-sizzling testes. [THR]
· Fight Club alter-egos Brad Pitt and Edward Norton reteam for Universal's State of Play, a feature adaptation of the British miniseries about a journalist's investigation into the murder of a congressman's girlfriend. We're unfamiliar with the source material, so we won't promise any scenes in which the duo strip off their shirts and stage a much-clamored-for FC rematch. [Variety]
· The Weinstein Company's $2-2.5 million purchase of George A. Romero's Diary of the Dead, ahem, reanimates the Toronto Fest market. [THR]

The unveiling of the name of the next Indy installment—Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull—may have rendered many a whip-flinging fanboy perplexed and mildly disappointed, but let's look at the bright side: For one, we can definitively eliminate Indiana Jones and the Pink Ladies of Rydell High from the running. Also, the title's over-specificity does offer us irresponsible internet rumormongers some tantalizing clues about its top-secret plot. MTV News asked a Harvard archeology professor schooled in ancient Mesoamerican cultures to speculate on how the movie's crystal skulls might manifest themselves into thrilling Nazi chases and the exploration of crypts containing a great many creepy-crawly things:

The Reeler reacts to yesterday's $1.25 million sale of The Aaron Eckhart Molests A 13-Year-Old Girl Project: "Think of it like Todd Solondz remaking Crash in a cul-de-sac, but with twice the tampons and a quarter of the self-respect. Ball makes Paul Haggis look like Robert Bresson. This prick couldn't direct traffic in a two-car garage. The hi-def cinematography is barely carpet-commercial grade, slumping into a blown-out honey hue recalling dive bar urinal spatter. The actors grimace through scene upon scene of button-pushing for button-pushing's sake, from bloody panties to competing American flags to adolescent strip/rape scenarios. So controversial, I know. Or maybe I'm the one being facile; do audiences still actually fall for this 'dark suburbia' boilerplate? Is Alan Ball that cynical, or are masturbating 13-year-olds browsing porn mags the newest, freshest angle in the Are You Shocked, America? How About Now? playbook?" [The Reeler]

There is perhaps no one better qualified to hold forth on the Britney Spears VMA debacle than American Idol trainwreck evaluator Simon Cowell, who noted that while bigger shorts and a python might have helped her performance, "she stole the show whether you liked it or not." Unlike Dr. Phil, however, he refrained from commenting on his weariness of Spears' genitalia. [Extra]

Today's Page Six previews W's upcoming story on the rapidly growing membership of the all-female Velvet Mob splinter group the magazine has dubbed the Rubyfruit Mafia, a faction whose influence grows each time one of the industry's power-lesbians makes the brave choice to step out of the closet:

On last night's Late Show, David Letterman invited shouty self-help personality Dr. Phil to speak truth to celebutard power in the wake of the latest Britney Spears meltdown, hoping that the unvarnished words of Oprah's Favorite Tough-Love-Providing Thing might help Spears and her panty-eschewing peers get their collective acts together. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Phil will countenance no talk about alcohol or drugs' role as the moral lubricant in desperate starlets' decisions to share their virtue with the public; these coddled fame-whores, argues the good fake-doctor, know exactly how much vagina they're going to flash before a single cocktail is poured or rail is blown.

It seems that the Academy Awards' Ellen DeGeneres Era, one marked by frequent tuxedo changes and playful trips into the Kodak Theater audience for some daytime-talkshow-quality banter with nominees struggling to stay awake during the punishingly long telecast, is over, as it's been announced that 2006 host Jon Stewart has been reinstalled at the Oscar podium, allowing the comedian to forfeit his membership in Hollywood's shameful Chris Rock/David Letterman Memorial One-and-Done Club.

· In addition to providing entertaining footage of drunk chicks puking on Hollywood sidewalks, last night's TMZ TV debut blew the lid off what Maddox Jolie might be eating for lunch at his fancy-pants school.
· Learn more about Leave Britney Alone Guy, whose YouTube clip is rapidly approaching a million views and has inspired a new fragrance.
· Rosie O'Donnell thinks it's time for someone to grab a throw pillow from The View's sofa and hold it over a napping Barbara Walters' face until she slips off into retirement.
· K-Fed: This acting stuff is dope, yo.