As we previewed yesterday, Tori Spelling, the little girl we all watched grow up, earn a starring role on her father's hit TV show, stage several failed comeback attempts, wreck a marriage, fail to show up to her father's deathbed, air her petty grievances with her mother on a series of celebrity rag covers, get pregnant, then turn the entire experience into an Oxygen network reality show, can now add another impressive line to her already inspirational biography: Loving mother of a healthy baby boy.

According to Vietnamese adoption officials who wished to remain anonymous for fear their violation of the International Celebrity Baby-Brokering Association's code of silence would earn them a punitive transfer to a much less fashionable Eastern European outpost stocked entirely with unpopular Caucasian children, Angelina Jolie's latest family-building mission is nearly complete, with the orphan-hoarding actress set to participate in an adoption ceremony—which may or may not include the sacred, ritualistic handover of a briefcase containing two million dollars in unmarked American currency—on Thursday morning. As a busy Brad Pitt was unable to make the journey to pick up the child the couple scouted back on a Thanksgiving window-shopping trip to the Tam Binh orphanage, he's fully authorized son Maddox (pictured above) to choose a different new brother if the one they'd previously hand-selected "got all weird or ugly or whatever" since his late November examination.

· Scarlett Johansson will star (with Penelope Cruz) in her third Woody Allen movie, finally cracking the top tier of the pervy director's obsessive lust-objects. [Variety]
· In announcing his attachment to new comedy project Part-Time Pirates for Fox, Click director Frank Coraci officially puts an end to an increasingly annoying era of buccaneer-positive culture: "Pirates are the original punk rockers. Politically and socially with everything going on in the world there's never been a better time than now to revive that spirit. Arrrrrrgh!" [THR]
· Tom Cruise's United Artists greenlights its second film (what, you thought Cruise wasn't serious about this pretending to run a studio thing?), getting into The Usual Suspects business by nabbing an ensemble thriller reuniting Team Soze's Bryan Singer and Chris McQuarrie. [Variety]
· Nielsen terrorist organization American Idol detonates a nuclear weapon that wipes out all television-watching life other than its nearly 30 million Tuesday night viewers. They'll truly stop at nothing to dominate their timeslot. [THR]
· CBS gets the most daytime Emmy nominations, with The Ellen DeGeneres Show squeezing out 12 nods to The View's mere 10. We blame Hasselbeck for the shortfall. [Variety]

If your memory extends all the way back to last October, you may recall a little multistudio bidding war that resulted in Universal shelling out $42.5 million for the rights to Sacha Baron Cohen's Bruno, a shocking price considering that at the time, there was at a fair amount of pants-soiling going on about some potentially scary tracking data for Borat, which was yet to prove that naked wrestling and the throwing of wadded up bills at bed-and-breakfast operating roach-Jews would be embraced on a worldwide basis. So how did Baron's people pull off such a great deal in the pre-Kazakhmania era? Slate's Kim Masters reports on speculation that Endeavor is running a puppet regime whose sole mission is to screw the studios while enriching its clients (yeah, that sounds exactly like an "agency," but stick with it):

On The View this morning, Outed-Stars-Of-American Idol's Rights crusader Rosie O'Donnell continued the campaign she began when she lambasted Kelly Ripa for her "homophobic" remarks about rumored fisting-enthusiast Clay Aiken's hands with her thoughts on the all-boy catfight heard round the world last night. (In case you missed it, Simon Cowell urged Ryan Seacrest to emerge from the closet, hinting that their recent mercy-mission might have been the lustiest safari tryst since Robert Redford wooed Meryl Streep in Out Of Africa.) The evidence that Seacrest might be batting for the West Hollywood Powerbottoms is rather compelling, particularly after viewing this Gawker montage of some of the finest pec-carressing moments of his career. Then again, there is evidence pointing to the contrary—particularly this clip of Seacrest modeling Scooby Doo Boxers, something no self-respecting Gay would ever be caught dead in.

Fresh off his recent screen triumph in which he played a cartoonist in hot pursuit of an elusive serial killer who may or may not have also provided the voice of Roger Rabbit, Jake Gyllenhaal may next may thrill his legions of Brokeback-dialogue-spouting admirers by slipping into some red tights and gold lamé to play second-tier-Superman Captain Marvel:

We knew that it was only a matter of time before a news organization with Us Weekly's vast investigative resources would finally marshal the courage to finally expose Hollywood's Drug Problem, a social scourge that threatens to devour our finest, excess-prone famous people, greedily gnaw at what's left of the meat on their malnourished frames, then vomit back up their coke-bleached bones into the nearest luxury rehabilitation receptacle, preferably one with easy beach access. How bad has the crisis gotten? Says a highly placed Us "scenester" who's obviously been to at least one bar in WeHo in the last two years, "Coke is so not a big deal for young stars in Hollywood. It's like having a drink." Indeed, the public consumption of illegal narcotics is now so accepted that many of the city's finer nightlife establishments will deliver punchbowls brimming with blow (in a variety of flavors) directly to one's VIP booth, where parties can unashamedly blow rails at their leisure, eliminating the onetime annoyance of having one's drug use rushed by a bitch with a shy bladder constantly banging on one's bathroom stall door.

In a refreshing change from the kind of mundane, paparazzi-related vehicular incident that ostensibly sober tabloid bait Lindsay Lohan frequently finds herself in on the photographer-clogged streets of our fair city, the new Wonderland Center alumni (Class of Feb. 07) mixed things up by heading off to New York for her latest run-in with the guerilla shutterbug class, where either 1) an opportunistic, Nikon-wielding maniac leapt onto the hood of her BMW and then threw himself onto the pavement, hoping for an easy payday, or 2) an enraged starlet finally took it upon herself to lash out against her longtime tormentors by mowing down a guy who was innocently trying to get a money shot of a famous person engaged in the scandalous act of driving. We now direct you to Access Hollywood's video coverage of yesterday's near-tragedy, which should provide all the information you need to make an informed decision about who can rightly claim victory in this latest skirmish in the Celebrity-Paparazzi War.

· The above clip might not be "new," exactly, but it's new to us. And Tracy Morgan takes off his shirt and talks about spreading his seed around El Paso. We think we need no further justification for posting it than that.
· Fro-yo throwdown! Pinkberry vs. Red Mango.
· We would like to officially throw our support behind Sonya T's quest to use her artificial mustache to upend the oppressive facial-hair-contest-ruling patriarchy.
· Local actress makes good with philandering politician to the north! A truly heartwarming story.
· Universal is testing out a radical plan to give out free tickets to one of its films. If that doesn't work out, they're going to try the even more unorthodox strategy of handing out ventriloquist dummies to potential ticketbuyers.

We'd like to take this opportunity to reaquaint you with the adorable, wet-nosed worst nightmares of any pirated entertainment smuggler: Lucky and Flo, two black Labradors whom we first met back in May of last year, who have been trained to sniff out polycarbonates used in the manufacturing of DVDs. They are on loan temporarily to Malaysia, just one of the Asia Pacific nations responsible for the estimated $1.2 billion the pirated DVD trade costs Hollywood annually, taking food off the plates of hard-working stuntmen and studio execs lunching at The Grill alike. Pictured, Lucky and Flo stand triumphantly next to their contraband quarry: A boxed-set featuring an entire season of Friends, just a small step towards ensuring its cast members—whose latest gigs are hardly insuring that food will continue to be put on their tables—are fairly remunerated for their hard work on the series.

· Music round-up: Diplo at Safari Sam's; El Perro Del Mar at the Explx; Youth Group at Spaceland.
· Kevin Federline sampling victim Thomas Dolby rises like a phoenix from the ashes of that unwelcome creative association with The Photon Ballet at the Henry Fonda, a multimedia extravaganza that our primitive brains can't even begin to understand.
· The cast of MadTV—yes, it's still on the air...we think—does longform improv at IO West. Also, Shawn "White Chicks" Wayans, Bruce Fine, Dana Min Goodman, and a cast of comedy thousands do free stand-up (with no drink minimum, we're told) at Three Clubs in Hollywood at 9 pm.

The delivery of unbidden swag to Defamer HQ is such a rare occurrence that we momentarily get excited by the unexpected appearance of a package on our doorstep, forgetting that it will invariably contain promotional detritus that some studio was too lazy to throw out on its own and has shipped to us for outsourced disposal. But imagine our delight as we grabbed our trusty crowbar and pried open the coffin-like wooden box from Universal you see above and discovered not, as we expected, the festering, severed limbs of the executive who greenlighted Because I Said So, but this delightful, only semi-creepy dummy heralding Friday's release of Dead Silence, the sure-to-be highest grossing ventriloquism-related horror movie of the weekend! Thank you, Universal! As the film obviously won't need us to break all sorts of box office records, we're going to stay home and Netflix up the 1978 Anthony Hopkins/Burgess Meredith classic Magic, which our new, slack-jawed friend just told us is a more compelling look at the dark art of voice-throwing.

The cancelled O.J. Simpson confessional multimedia extravaganza, If I Did It, Here's How It Happened, may have cost Judith Regan her job and reputation, and News Corp. a great deal of embarrassment and unwanted press, but the exonerated subject ended up coming out mostly ahead: The show never aired, copies of the book were mostly destroyed save for a few on eBay, and Simpson claims his fee for the hypothetical mea culpa was quickly cashed and spent. Now, an L.A. superior court judge has ruled that the rights to the book—one of O.J.'s only remaining assets—must be put up for auction, with all proceeds paid to Fred Goldman, who's still owed the majority of a $33.5 million 1997 civil suit judgment:

The LAT's Patrick Goldstein profiles cantankerous New Line co-chairman/co-CEO Bob Shaye, an executive utterly unafraid to call an unimpressed reviewer "schmucky," alienate a filmmaker who's made his studio a billion dollars, or to make a controversial choice to have Rainn Wilson's tantalizingly revealed hindquarters digitally obscured so as not to pander to an audience's basest, crack-craving tastes, a principled decision that could cost his upcoming film, The Last Mimzy, untold millions in ticket sales. In talking to the Times, Shaye also demonstrates a willingness to publicly call out a certain hacky director of a hit franchise who might be taking advantage of the fact that his movie is New Line's best chance at making some money this summer:

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week. We're not picky (note semi-regular guest star by Bai Ling), 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 most recent time you spotted the Bruckaneer rolling into the Grove.

Leonardo DiCaprio may have emerged mostly empty-handed from awards season, but it's difficult to feel sorry for the notorious supermodel collector, who's rarely spotted without some kind of trophy in his hand. Things have gotten off to a not-so-great start on a trip to Israel, the homeland of the actor's girlfriend, model Bar Refaeli. The trouble started when they realized their secret flight into town was packed with Israeli entertainment journalists; shockingly, word of their arrival soon got out, and the couple has since been besieged by what can only be referred to as LeoBarMania!:

· A frustrated, posturing Viacom finally breaks down after months of "unproductive negotiation" about licensing fees for the interweb rebroadcast of its cherished content, suing Google and its infernal YouTubes for "massive intentional copyright infringement" for over a billion dollars in damages, a suit that could be quickly dropped should GooTube come back to the conglomerate with a number representing a fair value for allowing its users to share their favorite clips of crudely animated, foul-mouthed schoolchildren talking to an anthropomorphized piece of human excrement. [Variety]
· Meanwhile, Bravo buys Television Without Pity, proving that media companies and the internet can sometimes figure out a way to coexist. [Variety]
· Questions about the fates of various established shows on the pick-up bubble: Will NBC try to get Law & Order back on the cheap? Will ABC ever get rid of According to George and The Jim Belushi Show? Will ABC swoop in and steal away Scrubs from NBC? We are all atwitter over the intrigue. [THR]
· Studio 60 TimeslotWatch: Paul Haggis' The Black Donnellys continues to flounder in Aaron Sorkin's rightful 10 pm home, getting trounced by a repeat of CSI: Miami. [THR]
· While no one actually wants to buy it, a three-year old script about Michael Eisner and Mike Ovitz's fun-filled time together at Disney is delighting bored studio executives all over town. [Variety]

OMG, guys! It's finally happening! Tori and that guy whose name we can never remember are having the baby! If you head on over to Cedars Sinai right now, you can be among the first people to welcome the heir to the couple's burgeoning bed and breakfast empire into the world. Hurry, before you miss this opportunity to witness the introduction of basic cable royalty to Hollywood society!

The trades bring some unfathomably sad news this morning: producers Mike Tollin and Brian Robbins, whose Tollins/Robbins Productions have recently given the world populist masterworks such as Norbit and Wild Hogs, have announced that they are taking steps to separate themselves from a beautiful partnership that's lasted longer than a decade. The duo insist that they've recently realized that they've grown apart, and that their friendly split will involve joint custody of projects they've developed together, as well as the occasional awkward social interaction stemming from their inextricably enmeshed lives. Reports Var:

In this magical, DVR-enabled era in which we live, viewers need only press a button to confirm that the tussled blonde extra they spotted on a repeat airing of Entourage was, in fact, a central player in the Anna Nicole Smith saga: Larry Birkhead. Radar Online posts a screencap of Birkhead's turn as an Ari Gold underling, assigned to the challenging task of reigniting former Viking Quest star Johnny Chase's flagging career. How Birkhead, whose occupation is usually referred to as photographer, wound up cast as an expendable AMA redshirt is anyone's guess: As Radar points out, his name doesn't appear anywhere on IMDB (which could change just as soon as the MOW conveyor belt starts pooping out Anna Nicole miniseries), and his page on Studio System lists precisely zero credits. Regardless, the mere involvement of a leading paternity candidate instantly throws a new light on the industry-satirizing series, making us wonder if other Entourage bit players—from Paul Haggis to Peter Dinklage to Seth Green—might also be worthy of consideration in the Dannielynn Smith Genetic Sweepstakes.