After submitting a DNA sample to Bahamian authorities (we prefer to maintain our blissful ignorance of how exactly that was achieved), Howard K. Stern made an 11th hour attempt at blocking the results. It was a legal action we're almost certain arose out his desire for privacy at this difficult moment, and not, say, because he bore even the slightest shadow of a doubt that Dannielynn wasn't stamped as 100% his own loinfruit product. Now comes word that the courts have shot down his appeal:

You spent the weekend in an alcohol-induced coma that helped to blot out the mentally scarring memories of the previous five days; unfortunately, you've awakened just in time for another week of humiliation and pain, with nothing but the box office numbers to cling to in this hour of desperation.

· Hollywood DisasterWatch: Burbank Burns! Our citizen photojournalists on the ground offer us multiple perspectives of the Fire That Didn't Affect Hollywood Much, Put Still Looks Pretty Damn Scary.
· Hollywood DisasterWatch 2: The E! Bomb Scare: Ryan Seacrest flE!es! The E!vacuees. A time for HE!aling.
· We are happy to pass along the rumor that George Clooney was behind the I Heart Huckabees videos, and he's happy to tell us we're wrong. (And to offer $1 million for someone's head in a bag. We're not exactly clear on whose.)
· Introducing the Anna Nicole autopsy report, fortified with nine essential life-snuffing nutrients!
· After Dark's fun with suicide campaign runs afoul of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, and the still-hanging Captivity billboards earn the wrath of the MPAA.
· The week in Britney: Fun Fact! Presbyterian is an anagram of Britney Spears. A sexywear shopping spree to combat the post-rehab blues. The D-I-V-O-R-C-E finalizes, y'all.
· Diva-meltdown-mania with Katherine Heigl and Paul Rudd.
· Don't call it a comeback! Actually, Hillary would be fine if you called it that. Also: George Clooney cautious not to too eagerly dip Obama in his showbiz stink.
· Do you know who Jeremy Piven is? Because if you did, he'd be seated by now.
· Courteney Cox and Jennifer Aniston hold hands and jump the lesbian-kiss shark together.
· Help us remember a time when Sanjaya was not a household name. (We're not kidding. Please. Help us.)
· A poem: Roses are red. Violets are blue. Optimus Prime is red and blue. Transformers is gonna suck.
· Ick! Matthew McConaughey! (Oh, and killer jellyfish...But mostly Matthew McConaughey.)
· Relax. All those Studio 60 loose ends no one has been talking about will be resolved.
· Will Paris Hilton be served some rough justice?

· A single Huckabees parody video per day is never enough, so here's another one.
· Out of all the late-series, Cousin Oliver-type characters from the 80's sitcoms, we always thought Chrissy from Growing Pains was going to turn out to be the bad seed. Guess we were wrong.
· Michael Jackson shocker! Erstwhile King of Pop a possible attention-whoring malingerer!
· Jenna Jameson suffering from that not-so-fresh, just-had-my-labia-blasted-off-with-lasers feeling.
· Hey, totally adorable, hand-holding otters!

Sure, we all know what wildfires look like by now, but it's rare for one to appear that affords us such a tantalizingly accurate vision of Hollywood's much-anticipated End of Days, give or take a quartet of Apocalyptic horsemen galloping through the streets to harvest what's left of the souls of those who toil in the industry. And so we've quickly thrown together this photo gallery of the Great Burbank Fire of 2007 for your enjoyment, containing both the images from our earlier posts about today's spectacular, sky-darkening conflagration and some new ones. Enjoy, and happy Friday.

Friday
· Friday night music: "Cookie Mountain"-climbers TV on the Radio play the Henry Fonda, Carina Round and Kate Earl are at the Hotel Café and nu-folkie from London Adem plays Tangier.
· The Westside Eclectic presents Josh Meindertsma in his one-man-show, Letters to Kobe, in which he reads actual fan letters written to philandering superathlete Kobe Bryant. To paraphrase the great Sam Jackson, you either want to see that, or you don't.
Saturday
· Get within touching distance of Henry Rollins (but we don't recommend it) when he introduces photographer Susie J. Horgan presenting her book "Punk Love," images from the Washington D.C. punk scene, at Book Soup.
· Saturday night music round-up: Maria Taylor plays the Echo, there's a Richie Hass benefit at Safari Sams, and The Starlite Desperation play the Troubadour.
· Catch the world premiere of Galatea, a play about a kooky British sculptor.
Sunday
· The Hammer Museum hosts a reading with novelists Joanna Scott (a MacArthur Fellowship recipient!) and Ben Marcus.
· It's your last day to see the Saul Bass exhibit at the Skirball center, the Vertigo poster designer we've unsuccessfully tried to emulate countless times before with a Spirograph and puffy-ink pens.
· Sunday night music: Sevendust are at the House of Blues, You Am I with Har Mar Superstar and the Actionslacks are at Spaceland and The Echo Park Film Center's fifth-anniversary celebration starts at noon and runs into the night, with sets from Magic Gas, Telematique, Listing Ship, and The Blank Tapes, at the Echo.

Through a combination of the internets, local news broadcasts, and e-mails from friends reassuring you that they have not been burned to death while stubbornly trying to finishing up the day's work while their Warner Bros. lot cube was consumed by flame, you are all probably aware that while it's very cool looking and makes for wonderfully easy jokes about God's divine retribution against those responsible for an abomination like Wild Hogs, the Great Burbank Fire seems to be posing no danger to showbiz interests. And no, the Hollywood sign is not actually smoldering—that's just an illusion conjured by a potent combination of perspective and your deep-seated resentment towards the industry that enslaves you.

Reports are pouring in about a brush fire raging in the hills of Burbank, close to the popular movie-fabricating factories maintained by Warner Bros. and Universal, as well as the Oakwood apartments, home to some of the industry's finest itinerant child actors.

Our friends over at CollegeHumor kept the cameras rolling during a particularly difficult shoot for their The Michael Showalter Showalter series, capturing behind-the-scenes video of a dramatic on-set meltdown the likes of which Hollywood hasn't witnessed in hours. But before you vilify the talented—but notoriously difficult—Showalter for his outburst, please realize that infamous diva Paul Rudd was clearly asking for it with his unrelenting bitching following each take.

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week, so send them in often. Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you saw Jason Alexander at Peet's Coffee magically transforming into George Costanza before your eyes after receiving a call from Woody Harrelson:

We pause once again for our weekly declaration of unbridled horniness for this week's sponsors, whose online advertising budgets never fail to drive us wild with desire. If you'd like to advertise on Defamer and tap this hot mess, see this page.

· Hollywood SwankWatch: Freedom Writers and The Reaping actress Hilary Swank is developing (and likely producing and starring in—she really can do it all!) a remake of Patrick Leconte's Intimate Strangers for Paramount, about an actress whose career seems to have no discernible direction since winning two Oscars. [Variety]
· Spiderman 3 will debut in China a day before its North America premiere in hopes that some Chinese moviegoers will rush to theaters to see it rather than wait for the pirated, 25-cent copies that will be widely available just hours after the release. [THR]
· Keep your stunguns at the ready, put your forensic accountants on speed dial, and lock up your overlong directors cuts, because the Weinsteins are back, baby! [Variety]
· Paula Abdul signs with APA, who hope to "work with her on developing multigenerational, international lifestyle branding opportunities" and who will refuse to take her calls the second she's no longer hosting American Idol. [THR]
· In reflecting upon the ICM/Endeavor Richard Abate defection debacle, Var's Peter Bar proposes that agents hire their own agents to orchestrate their career moves. But what about agents for an agent's agent, and a team of agent-managers to steer the whole ship? Soon, getting anything done will require penetrating fifteen nested levels of rep-representation. Where does the madness end, Mr. Bart? [Variety]

Sole survivor of the Baldwin Family Career Curse Alec has always been an actor with a conscience, as demonstrated recently by his reaction to a NY Times article about a young female soldier from Phoenix soon headed off to combat. So touched was he by Pvt. Resha Kane's story, Baldwin himself (no, that's no typo—we said himself) tracked down Kane's family to tell them he'd like to contribute to Kane's college tuition fund:

Slow to fulfill its promise to remove the offensive billboards forcing local motorists to contemplate Elisha Cuthbert's graphic abduction, confinement, torture, and termination as they helplessly idle at traffic-clogged intersections, After Dark Films now feels the wrath of the MPAA, which has responded to public outrage over the unapproved ads by suspending the ratings process and demanding that all subsequent promotion materials be cleared with the organization if Captivity hopes to ever get the R it probably needs to make any money. Chideth the ratings board:

We've been patiently awaiting the inevitable announcement of I Heart Huckabees enforcer David O. Russell's next project following the unprecedented levels of buzz he's enjoying since the leak of the now-infamous outtakes from that shoot, a calling card revealing a filmmaker who countenances no lip from difficult talent, a quality always in high demand in the industry. Today's THR reports that Russell has signed on to do an adaptation of Gore Daughter chick-littish political novel Sammy's Hill; in announcing the project, producer Doug Wick trumpets Russell's talent, but inadvertently reveals the disastrous creative differences soon to come:

As several of you tipped us to yesterday, the final settlement t's have been crossed and marital dissolution i's dotted in the Spears-Federline divorce negotiations, leaving Britney Spears and her onetime wifebeater-wearing wooer free to go their separate ways:

When George Clooney isn't busy hunting for the real leaker of the Huckabees videos or developing socially conscious movie projects to assuage the guilt induced by all the fun he's having placing Saran Wrap over the toilet bowl in Brad Pitt's double wide (Brad always falls for that one!) on the set of Ocean's 13, the committed actorvist spends time fretting about whether or not it's a prudent idea to publicly repress his intense feelings for Democratic Presidential mancrush Barack Obama for the good of his campaign. In discussing his acute case of Obamamania in today's LAT, Clooney notes the delicate balance between using celebrity to raise a politician's profile and tainting him with the perceived Gay Satanism of "Hollywood values" that Middle America so thoroughly fears:

· The entire Sopranos story, in just seven minutes! Who's got that kind of time? With some judicious cutting, we bet someone could get it down to a more YouTube-friendly 90 seconds.
· Diddy is brazenly stealing all his freak-you-wild material from Smoove B: "As soon as we landed, we went straight to the Eiffel Tower, drank champagne at the top and just kissed and kissed. Then we went up to my suite and had tantric sex for at least 30 hours, ordering up whipped cream and strawberries while we were at it. As meticulous as I am with my work, I'm more meticulous with lovemaking. I like to do it for a long time."
· Realizing that he hadn't been involved in a petty war of words in nearly 12 hours and desperate for the rush only pointless public confrontation can provide, feud-junkie Donald Trump picks a fight with a golfing magazine.
· No blood for mohel.
· After reading this story, our first thought was: Michael Jackson can't even afford health insurance anymore. How's he going to pay for the upkeep on the 50-foot robot?

Paris Hilton's fate has hung precariously in the balance since a speeding stop last month found America's Troubled Party Whorelet driving with a suspended license while on probation for a DUI. The D.A.'s office, perhaps having caught wind of past fracases in which Hilton slyly feigned idiocy for her own legal gain, are suggesting she knew very well of the status of her suspended license, and are requesting a revocation of her probation that could pave the way for hard time:

Celebrity divorce lawyer appointment confirmation service TMZ.com reports that—right now—recovering Cokeaholic Britney Spears and estranged househusband Kevin Federline are huddling with their bad-idea-reversing barrister at her Century City offices, putting the final touches on a settlement that would give Spears primary child-endangerment rights going forward and provide Federline enough cash to maintain the levels of ridiculousness in his kick game to which he's become accustomed. Our own operatives on the scene seem to confirm negotiations are proceeding apace: