· Let the CancellationWatch begin: After finishing fifth on Monday night with about 3 million viewers, On the Lot's ratings creep up to a still-anemic 4 million on Tuesday. We recommend that you enjoy judge Carrie Fisher's desperate attempts to marry off her daughter to the "next Spielberg" while you still can. [Variety, Variety]
· But here's some news sure to cheer you up: Dane Cook continues to work, and is in negotiations to star in comedy Bachelor No. 2, in which he'll play an asshole who tries to drive girls back to the guys they just dumped by taking them on hilariously bad dates. [THR]
· As if sleeping underneath an autographed photo of NBC legend Brandon Tartikoff as a child didn't prove new NBC co-chairman Ben Silverman's love of all things Peacock, he lets the industry know just how badly he ached for the gig: "I am taking a massive financial hit, which is a testament to how passionate I am about this job." Ah, there's nothing more heartwarming than a former agent publicly disclosing the pay cut he's allegedly taking to chase his Hollywood dream. [Variety]
· Meanwhile, Silverman will remain involved at Reveille (with which NBC extended its first-look deal for another two years) as a silent owner and won't have a financial stake in its new shows, a well-thought-out arrangement that is sure to be utterly free of troubling conflicts of interest. Everyone wins! [Variety]
· Ashton Kutcher's Katalyst Films signs an overall deal with CBS Corp., a move that clearly establishes the Punk'd star and up-and-coming producer as the eventual successor to Les Moonves, himself a former terrible actor with boundless ambition. [THR]

Time is quickly running out for Paris Hilton, who has until June 5 to turn herself into authorities, relinquishing all the luxurious little conveniences from her vastly privileged life—the expensive handbags, the fine automobiles, the tree-dwelling marsupials—in exchange for a standard-issue orange jumper and anonymous prisoner number. Despite her best efforts to make the most of her last days of freedom (nothing really quite makes you feel alive like plunking down an AmEx Black card on a Dior boutique counter and announcing to the groveling sales staff, "I need you to sell me things. Now!"), the looming specter of a summer behind bars seems to have gotten the better of the typically upbeat socialite. From People.com:

It's hard to believe, but an entire year has passed since Angelina Jolie, swollen with her first biological offspring at the finest resort in Namibia, rang the delicate bell that summoned down from Heaven the host of seraphim midwives who would gently escort through her blessed birth canal the Chosen infant widely expected to usher in an era of worldwide peace and prosperity. Since those earliest, auspicious moments, however, Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt's messianic career has to be seen as a resounding disappointment, with not a single miracle credited to the tyke over the last twelve months, a letdown that quickly drove mother Angelina to the orphanages of Vietnam to snatch up the first adorable urchin to tug at the hem of her khakis.

Hoping to land a coveted Fake Emmy nomination for long-suffering, easily wounded actor Johnny "Drama" Chase, the Entourage team has taken out a For Your Consideration ad in today's Variety for Five Towns, the breakout B-story hit that occasionally distracts viewers from the tiresome on-again, off-again romance between younger brother Vince and cartoonishly foul-mouthed—but secretly tender—lover Ari at the center of the current, disappointing season of the HBO series. To complete the reality-blurring illusion, Chase has also "written" a First Person essay about the emotional brutality of awards season:

It's difficult to know for certain what goes through the bewigged head of Phil Spector as witness after witness takes the stand to offer their damning testimony—perhaps he's conjuring elaborate revenge fantasies involving a variety of binding materials and a double-barreled shotgun, with "Carmina Burana" blasting over the castle stereo system. Yesterday's appearance by L.A. County Medical Examiner Dr. Louis Pena certainly didn't do the defense any favors, with the doctor (pictured above, miming the rare, "intra-oral gunshot wound" that took Lana Clarkson's life) explaining how several factors led him to conclude the shooting was a homicide:

With Lindsay Lohan safely chained to a solid-gold radiator at Promises Malibu and the orderlies assigned to her care instructed never to spike her delicious wheatgrass-and-ipecac detox smoothies with Bacardi, no matter how extravagant the bribe offered, all Lohan coverage for the next 28 or so days will probably be limited to recaps of the events leading up to this weekend's spectacular flameout or forward-looking attempts to discern What It All Means for Other Substance-Abusing Starlets Who'd Kill For This Kind of Media Attention, Even If They Have To Drunkenly Mow Down A Valet at Hyde To Get It.

· A reader asks us, "This is fake, right?" Considering how Will Ferrell and his merry, viral pranksters at Funny or Die have burned us before, we have to say it is. But it's still fun watching George-Michael getting mouthy, to say nothing of imagining him impregnating Katherine Heigl.
· We barely had time to get to the other drug-and-alchohol-related starlet hospitalization news. This truly was a Memorial Day weekend to remember.
· We don't know about you, but the sight of ripped, 60-year-old orange men in thongs never fails to awaken the beasts within us.
· Thank you, Odyssey! You're our one-stop destination for all our celebrity-sex-tape shopping needs—even the ones we forgot existed.
· Salma Hayek: Now more than ever, a series of massive, congruent orbs.
· And because today has been nothing but sadness, we leave you with a glimmer of hope: Elisabeth Hasselbeck is trying to patch things up with Rosie! We're going to climb into our inversion therapy Happy Bouncer™ and pray for their reconciliation.

There is perhaps no better example of exploitation television than Dateline NBC's ongoing To Catch a Predator series: It's voyeuristic humilitainment in its purest form, in which correspondent Chris Hansen (who wrote a book about his ongoing moral crusade, along with co-author, Deep Denial) ambushes adult men on camera who are lured to homes over the internet on the pretense of having sex with a minor. Producer Marsha Bartel, a 21-year NBC news veteran, claims she was unfairly terminated by the network after bringing up the many ethical and legal lapses involved in setting up the stings—particularly those committed by NBC's partner in the operation, shadowy "watchdog group" Perverted Justice, who are paid for their services. In a lawsuit brought against the network, Bartel outlines all the dirty tricks it takes to bring the public its primetime pedophiliac fun. From The Smoking Gun:

• Charles Nelson Reilly, 76, actor [Variety]

· Music Round-Up: Arcade Fire play the first of two nights at the Greek, Voxtrot are at the El Rey, and Olivia d'Abo plays the Hotel Café.
· New music ensemble Xtet host L.A. Sounds and Sights—an evening of "music celebrating L.A.-based artists" set in LACMA's permanent collection room. They'll play a new work, and works by other locally based composers like Igor Stravinsky, John Cage, and Mel Powell.
· Was the price of a Brazilian wax the only thing holding you back until now? Well, you no longer have that excuse: Go bald, baby.

And with one palate-cleansing Britney Spears post, we return to our regularly scheduled Lindsay Lohan Meltdown (May '07) coverage, which we shall divvy up in handy, bulleted fashion:
· In troubling times like these, there's nothing like a reassuring NY Post headline to put things into perspective. [NY Post]
· Fragments of the accident wreckage recovered from the scene have appeared on eBay, and currently have a top bid of $800. Just to make it clear: You are bidding on pieces of her crashed Mercedes. The two items on the right aren't her ribs. [eBay]
· Leslie Sloane Zelnik's much-anticipated official statement on the matter is something of a letdown: "Lindsay admitted herself to an intensive medical rehabilitation facility on Memorial Day. Because this is a medical matter, it is our hope that the press will appreciate the seriousness of the situation and respect the privacy of Lindsay as well as the other patients receiving treatment at the facility." Sure, the press gets a light scolding, but it's woefully lacking in accusatory venom. [TMZ]

Lest we heap all of our attentions on the troubles of Promises' least promising newbie, let us not overlook the Malibu wellness facility's equally famous alumnus, Britney Spears. The singer has issued forth yet another Message of Hope on her placeholder website, BritneySpears.com, giving us some rare insights into what might have led the consummate performer to be temporarily derailed by extraneous crotch-exposing, club-hopping, and head-shaving pursuits following the dissolution of her marriage:

Because no seismic shift in the Hollywood power matrix feels fully complete without the requisite internal memo patting the ousted exec on his recently axed head for a job well done—but not quite well enough to warrant not getting fired!—while welcoming with great fanfare his more promising replacement, we offer the following message from NBC Universal President and CEO Jeff Zucker. It introduced new co-chairmen, Ben "Zucker II" Silverman and Marc Graboff, to his army of blind followers, who know better than to question the at times brutal wisdom of their sheeny-scalped overlord. The rest of the memo and press release follow after the jump:

· As we mentioned earlier, there's a new Golden Boy at NBC: Jeff Zucker reconfigures the executive structure at the once great, now consistently fourth-place network, essentially drop-kicking Kevin Reilly and luring Ben Silverman away from his successful production company to take over West Coast operations. [Variety]
· The aptly named Still Rolling Prods. says principal photography on grannie heist movie Poor Things is to begin Wednesday as planned, which means either co-star Lindsay Lohan will be recast, or the script will be rewritten to incorporate an actual L.A. courthouse and Malibu detox facility. [Variety]
· CBS greenlit six episodes of Do You Trust Me?, a game show that's betting audiences will show up to see if a player falling backwards will be caught by his co-contestants, or if they'll pull their arms away at the last moment, allowing him to be impaled on the Spikes of Death. [Variety]
· Miss Universe takes a beating in the ratings, trampled by a Two and a Half Men rerun. Miss USA, meanwhile, takes a beating of her own, tripping during the evening gown competition and getting booed loudly by the Mexican audience during the interview portion. Terrible! Kind of funny, but just terrible! [THR]
· In keeping with recent trends of premiering major Hollywood releases abroad (hey—they know on which side of the Atlantic and/or Pacific their popcorn flick is buttered), Michael Bay's blowing-shit-uppingest movie in ages, Transformers, is to get its first public showing at Rome's Taormina Film Fest. [THR]

For those of you perhaps just stirring out of a three-day coma or recently trapped in a coal mine: Lindsay Lohan, gravel-voiced screen icon and role model for legions of America's wayward youth, hit a minor developmental stumbling block just a few months short of her 21st birthday (no longer, it just so happens, to be sponsored by Svedka Vodka): She was arrested, after law enforcement found a "usable amount" of cocaine—flavor indeterminate—in her abandoned, crashed vehicle. Unstoppable party juggernaut that she is, however, Lohan was photographed a day later being transported, nearly unconscious, out of Teddy's in one of their V.I.P. courtesy wheelbarrows, and dumped into an awaiting SUV piloted by D.J./confidante Samantha Ronson. Now In Touch Weekly is reporting that Lohan—who, after a year of AA meetings, has recently expressed leeriness in labeling herself an out-and-out "addict"—has checked herself into Promises' seaside facilities for another shot at rehab:

NBC head Kevin Reilly, who just weeks ago optimistically unveiled his network's fall slate to advertisers with the fighting, Muhammad-Aliesque couplet: "We've got the class and next season we're ready to add some mass," has been relieved of his Deal or No Deal-replicating duties once and for all, in a Memorial Day weekend surprise shakeup ordered from on high by NBC Universal's Peacock King, Jeff Zucker. Reports LA Weekly's Nikki Finke:

As you settle back into your ergonomic seats after a well-deserved long weekend, contemplating how a Tuesday morning could feel more hopeless than any Monday ever did, consider stirring some box office numbers into your coffee instead of that heaping teaspoon of rat poison. You'll thank us if you do.

Weary as we are to rouse ourselves out of our long weekend torpor, the call of a scenemonkey starlet's DUI arrest beckons: At approximately 5:30 a.m. Saturday morning, beloved screen icon and local nightlife stall fixture Lindsay Lohan once again found herself involved in a suspicious accident, having crashed her seemingly death proof convertible into a Sunset Blvd. sidewalk. Then, according to a 911 call from an eyewitness, she peeled away from the scene. After inspecting the tires and grille for tell-tale hair, tooth, and camera fragments, police quickly ruled out vehicular paparazzicide, but a search of the car turned up a "'usable amount' of a drug tentatively identified as cocaine." The Georgia Rule star, who only recently endured a supererogatory stay at a local rehab facility, was then arrested at Century City Hospital (where she was being treated for minor injuries), for "investigation of misdemeanor driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs." Beleaguered flack Leslie Sloane Zelnik has yet to speak out on the matter, but is undoubtedly at this very moment holed up in an office, blinds drawn and surrounded by a foothill of crumpled paper as she attempts to compose the Statement of Her Career: a 44-word missive squarely placing the blame for her client's pre-21st-birthday rock-bottom moment on the media's nefarious shoulders.

· Two hours and nine minutes later, American Idol finally announces the winner of its search for the World's Most Awesome Person. But interest is waning.
· We're almost positive The View staffers are having champagne and cake right about now.
· Magger, please.
· Beware, local wrestling teams: Bruno is on the loose.
· CBS brought to its knees by the Attack of the Killer Squirrels.
· Plan on seeing all your favorites, like Trap-Jaw, Ram-Man, and Fisto, in the Slammer the new He-Man movie!
· Brett Ratner loves a sweet ass, but does America love Brett Ratner?
· Alec Baldwin returns to his mistress, CAA.
· Ari Lite.
· Katie, Katee...It's so hard to keep those similarly named girls who don't have sex straight!
· For those of you who felt Rocky Balboa had too much heart and not enough blood, John Rambo should balance the scales.
· A fully legal Lindsay Lohan will introduce the Artist Formerly Known as An Unpronounceable Glyph to the finer points of communal stall etiquette at the Roosevelt.
· No wonder our friends at Paramount are so quiet today!
· Wow, Sanjaya—you really had us going. Now evaporate into a cloud of vapor.
· Will T.R. Knight or Isaiah Washington return to Grey's Anatomy next season? Based on last night's two-hour finale, we don't care. Ditto for the show itself. But we did learn a valuable life lesson during the commercial break.
· Top Ten lists: Always a great way to show off your comedic chops.
· Who wants to play Things On My Snoozing Jakeypoo?

· Rosie and her Sharpie-wielding heavies pack it in early. You all hurt her feelings! You should be ashamed of yourselves!
· In honor of Pirates' opening, Fandango imagines some other blockbusters based on Disney rides. We don't really have the heart to tell them that Jungle Cruise is already happening, or that Vinnie Chase is likely going to be the one to star in Matterhorn, after he refuses to bang Prince Yair's wife to get Medellin made.
· New York's Saks Fifth Ave. shoe department has just been granted its own zip code (yes, you read that correctly). We can't let those East Coast philistines outdo us: Let's make Barney's accessories department its own sovereign nation state!
· Blogging.la is having a "worst job in Los Angeles" contest. Scott Rudin's first assistant? Brett Ratner's Toejam Removal Coordinator? Are you guys even paying attention?
· Remember that whole chained-to-the-stairs, swinging-firepokers and fired-shots insanity at the O'Neal's place? Ryan's off the hook.