When the marketing team for Knocked Up conceived its cute Make-Your-Own-Bastard web game, they couldn't have foreseen the horrifying parental combinations that the Hurty Elbow blog would soon feed into it. We hope that when they come across the dead-eyed spawn resulting from the commingling of superproducers Brian Grazer and Jerry Bruckheimer or hacky directors Brett Ratner and Michael Bay, they realize that their once-fun project has been hopelessly corrupted and destroy the infernal apparatus that produced such abominations.

During the entirety of the ugly affair that saw Alec Baldwin so desperate to repair his voicemail-damaged image that he publicly mused about quitting 30 Rock and willingly ran through The View's confessional gauntlet, we were never more worried about his well-being than when he unexpectedly fired CAA, a move that indicated he'd hit rock bottom with such force that he no longer feared the chilling consequences that inevitably follow any attempt by an earner to jilt the evil agenting monolith. This afternoon, however, it seems that Baldwin is pulling out of his tailspin, as Variety reports that he's back with CAA after a month-long cooling-off period. "I could not imagine being represented by anyone other than Matt DelPiano," said Baldwin through a rep, showing that the actor is finally emotionally healthy enough to realize that CAA wasn't kidding around when it left all those notes underneath his windshield wiper reading, "If you so much as take a lunch with William Morris, you'll wake up with Billy's severed head on your pillow tomorrow."

The curious matter of the missing fingernail evidence hovering over the Phil Spector trial has been partially settled today in something of a bombshell ruling from presiding Judge Paul Fidler. Prosecutors had accused the defense of having withheld a fragment of what was believed to be Lana Clarkson's fingernail, recalled by several eyewitnesses as having been collected at the crime scene by forensic scientist Henry Lee. From the LAT Spector Trial Blog:

· Anya Marina at the Hotel Café; The Bravery at Virgin Megastore; Kiss or Kill at Safari Sam's.
· Largo hosts the "Book*Smart Nightclub, a monthly music/comedy/literary event to benefit 826LA, which tonight features The Watson Twins, Patton Oswalt, and Found magazine's Davy Rothbart. [via flavorpill]
· Owen Burke, Chad Carter, Rob Huebel, Rob Riggle, and Paul Scheer invite you to the UCB Theatre, where they will spin your boring MySpace profile into long-form improvisational comedy gold.

Anne Heche's divorce from couchhusband Coley Laffoon is only growing uglier, as the actress has now lashed back at his claims that her tenuous grip on her own sanity renders her an unfit mother. The Men in Trees star now accuses Laffoon of neglecting their son Homer, opting instead to fill his days with leisure activities and illicit keystrokes:

Because time is clearly of the essence with the show's blockbuster finale just a couple of hours away, we'll pass along this Craigslist plea by an American Idol worker in desperate need of a tension-breaker with a minimum of the usual preamble:

TVWeek.com has rounded up clips of recently announced, new Fall shows from all the broadcast networks and posted them to their site, allowing us a sneak preview of the exciting programs that we—like any modern, quick-triggered TV viewer with no attention span to speak of—will likely delete from our TiVo lists after a one-episode tryout. Our first stop was to the ABC tab for a glimpse of Cavemen, the much-anticipated discount-auto-insurance-infomercial/ race-parable hybrid that is sure to redefine the moribund sitcom form this September.

With an impending phone call from his agent regarding his future on hit ABC medical drama Grey's Anatomy the only thing keeping actor T.R. Knight from reaching his Summer '07 goal of shedding a headful of Manic-Panic-tinted hair, the fate of recently gayhabbed co-star and verbal tormentor Isaiah Washington is equally up in the air. According to the Us Weekly blog, things aren't looking good for Dr. Burke:

· Mike Myers is the latest star to try and take a whack at the long-gestating remake of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, which has now moved from Paramount to 20th Century Fox, and to which Owen "The Butterscotch Stalliion" Wilson and Jim "My Career's Way Too Cold To Have A Decent Nickname" Carrey were once attached. [Variety]
· MTV Games has announced a Jackass video game, which will ship with a special controller that will deliver blunt-force trauma to a player's genitals or emit flatulence in his face as he steers Johnny Knoxville and his gang through a variety of wacky stunts. [THR]
· Fox's American Idol predictably dominates in its timeslot, but there's some potentially bad news for the network: the preview/premiere of On the Lot opens to a weak number, calling into serious question Brett Ratner's TV drawing power. [Variety]
· Cuba Gooding Jr. will produce and play a pivotal janitor role in "edgy," Napoloean Dynamite-esque teen comedy Harold. [THR]
·Writers' collectives are so hot right now: Screenwriters like Christopher "Usual Suspects" McQuarrie, John "Undercover Brother" Ridley, and Naomi "Jake and Maggie's Mom" Foner Gyllenhaal have formed the 1.3.9 co-op, joining forces to help each other maintain more control over the creative process.

For a young actor making his way in Hollywood, nothing quite says "I've arrived" like plunking down your sitcom earnings for a first home in the Hills—a bachelor crib of one's own that can accomodate both raucous, hot-tub-mixer casting sessions, and quiet, introspective moments in a sauna-equipped oasis from the showbiz rat race. That's what this Beachwood Canyon home has offered former That 70s Show star Danny Masterson, a residence which can now belong to you, as the actor has decided to address his cramped-living-space thetans by putting it on the market. Our square-footage-obsessed pals at Curbed LA have some of the details:

Our pal at Towleroad has landed this ultra-rare, exclusive image of dreamy-eyed Hollywood hunkboat [audible sigh] Jake Gyllenhaal, fresh off the Cannes premiere of Zodiac, catching a well-deserved nap on the Eurostar train between Paris and London. We really have nothing more to say, other than: Awww...famous people occasionally sleep, just like Us! (But look decidedly more adorable when they do it. Look at him! He's probably dreaming of cute sheep vaulting a perfect little fence.)

In any event, McMillan can't be a worse hire than WGA mole George "Scab Writer" Ellis, whom the Guild hopes will be snapped up during a studio's MySpace hunt for cheap, strike-insurance labor, and whose shoddy, non-union workmanship will doom any stockpiled project to instant failure. His video resume follows:

Having ultimately decided that inviting Generalissimo Hugo's Bolivian Marching Powder™ to sponsor alleged wardrobe-pirate Lindsay Lohan's 21st birthday bash [Ed.note—They grow up so fast after multiple, suspicious dehydration episodes, don't they?] in Vegas might draw unwanted attention from federal drug enforcement agencies, her event planners have decided to go with the second-most logical patron for a recent rehab graduate and noted AA groupie's coming-of-legal-drinking-age party: a mid-range vodka company. Reports today's Gatecrasher column:

· Celebrity oversharer Angelina Jolie wants us all to know that just as soon as she's done with shooting a couple more movies, she's taking a year off to be with her family. Mercifully, she gets all the way through the interview without suffering a nervous breakdown about how her gut-wrenching decision to have a biological baby still torments her.
· Has Rosie O'Donnell's quest to replace Bob Barker finally come to end? Some eavesdroppers say it's all over but the crying.
· This is a video of some people dancing to one of your favorite sitcom theme songs. We're pretty sure you're clicking on that link even without further description.
· Scott Stapp's wife's 911 call: "He's on the pot and the drugs, and has many, many guns in the house." That dude still knows how to party.

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week, so don't hesitate to share those brushes with celebrity greatness with the rest of the world. Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and tell everyone about the time you spotted Dunder Mifflin's two most annoying employees grabbing separate, late-night bites at the 101 Café.

· Music round-up: Mando Diao at the Troubadour; The Mulhollands at the Key Club; Grey Matter at the Knitting Factory.
· Al Gore—creator of the internets, sworn, Oscar-winning foe of global warming, and gentle lover to Tipper—will appear at the Wilshire Theatre to promote his new book, The Assault on Reason.
· Writer Antoine Wilson signs his debut novel, The Interloper, at Dutton's Brentwood.

Transformers director Michael Bay is more than just the force-of-blowing-shit-up-nature behind some of the wildly successful, underscripted summer blockbusters that help you drown out the drudgery of your life with two hours of awe-inspiring mushroom clouds and balletically twirling Ferraris; he is also, as you may know, an unquestioned master of a more intimate (if equally mercenary) form of filmmaking—the commercial. Bay's must-read news blog shares this behind-the-scenes clip of a recent Pepsi One ad he helmed, giving us a rare glimpse of how the fauxteur is sometimes willing to put aside his ego to better serve the narrative, resisting every impulse to spectacularly detonate star Kim Cattrall's bathtub just for the selfish purpose of putting his creative stamp on the project.

As Grey's Anatomy star and Advocate coverboy T.R. Knight gradually morphs into the New Face of Hollywood Gay Pride—less rainbow Spandex and Mardi Gras beads, more begrudging acknowledgments of one's predisposition towards men and appearances on Ellen to tattle on one's homorageoholic co-star—the actor's fate on the series that made him famous is still up in the air. Asked by Access Hollywood if his contract has been renewed, Knight said:

From virtually the moment Universal threw $42 million at Sacha Baron Cohen for Bruno, his Borat follow-up, questions about whether a far more recognizable troublemaker would be able to hide behind a bleached fauxhawk and mesh shirt and goad homophobic Americans into hilariously intolerant reactions to his subtle, Austrian-accented invitations to sodomy. So how is the Bruno team tackling the problem of Baron Cohen's fame? According to an operative, by waving his bedazzled microphone right under our noses here in L.A.. His report on the star's new faux-documentary shenanigans follows:

Fans hoping to revive a cancelled TV series have been relying on increasingly flashy techniques in the hopes of registering on the radars of busy network heads, whose various galactic overlord duties may have rendered them tragically out of touch with the tastes of the common man. Arrested Development addicts pelted Fox execs with foam banana balls. Invasion lovers (yes, they existed) drowned ABC in bottled water. But devotees of the mushroom-clouds- on-Main-St. drama Jericho have decided to go the bulk snack route, inviting fellow grassroots supporters to send roasted peanuts to CBS's offices: