Because we've lately been devoting an unprecedented number of column inches to the unexpected appeal of Hollywood's mature lady sexpots, we thought we should also spend some time toasting the enduring potency of the less-fair gender. What better candidate, then, than nonagenarian former matinee idol Kirk Douglas, who, Page Six reports today, has penned an autobiography in which he shares some of his most memorable encounters from over 75 years of freaky sexploits:

A huge debt of gratitude is owed to the Reporter critic who subjected himself to the harrowing theatrical ordeal that was Oscar-winning triple threat (acting/singing/cootenanny-channeling) Jamie Foxx's "Unpredictable" show at Madison Square Garden, an act of self-sacrifice that allows us all to feel a sense of aesthetic violation without having to go through the trouble and expense of flying to New York. An excerpt from the writer's dark night of the concert-reviewing soul:

Perhaps prompted to comment after being more psychologically scarred by Catholic League Righteous Outrage Coordinator William Donahue's conjuring of the image of the oral servicing of a statue of a tumescent Martin Luther King than by anything in the Sundance movie in which her character is controversially raped, 12-year-old thespian Dakota Fanning finally spoke out on the fading uproar over Hounddog:

When the ominous words "nominees to be determined" accompanied the announcement of The Departed's nomination for Best Picture, industry tongues reflexively clicked, heads were gravely shaken in disapproval, and the eyes of vulnerable children were shielded as if in the presence of a well-endowed drifter who unexpectedly exposed himself near a grade-school crosswalk, for it seemed clear that Paramount emperor Brad Grey had appealed the Academy for a producer credit on the film of rival studio Warner Bros (a credit recently denied by the Producers Guild), a prideful sin compounded by the fact that his own studio's Babel is also in the race for the shiniest Oscar of them all. Today's LAT reports that Academy officials are keeping quiet on the matter of Grey's presumed petition, unconvincingly asserting that they have no idea why their fax machine has recently been clogged with missives from esteemed members of the Hollywood community noting that, "For like an entire year, Brad just wouldn't shut up about how much time he spent producing this Departed thing":

· Pictured: At this morning's Oscar nominations announcement, Salma Hayek is thrilled to learn that Academy president Sid Ganis was just kidding when he told her that part of her duty as co-presenter was to give him a topless hot-oil massage at the conclusion of the press conference.
· While everyone's in an uproar over the Dakota Fanning rape movie at Sundance, no one's said anything about the one where Fanning rapes Rainn Wilson, a truly disturbing double-standard.
· Anna Nicole Smith is exactly as literate as you'd suspected.
· Jamie Foxx is exactly as classy as you'd suspected.
· It might be time for DreamWorks to cut down on that Dreamgirls For Your Consideration budget.
· Quickly, before he takes the podium: Here's your State of the Union drinking game.

Defamer is committed to bringing together its shoe-fetishizing readers with those who can provide them with the discarded footwear of the well-shod celebrities they so desperately covet, and so we pass along this anonymous Craigslist post seeking a recent Golden Globes also-ran's previously worn Cavallis:

· The Writers Bloc brings together novelist Robert Stone with Doors drummer John Densmore to discuss Stone's new memoir, Prime Green: Remembering the Sixties, at the Fine Arts Theatre.
· Music round-up: Dar Williams at Largo; Emily Haines & and the Soft Skeleton at the El Rey; The Nightwatchman (i.e., Tom Morello of RATM) at the Hotel Café.
· The Borders in Westwood offers you another chance to get close to David Lynch, who'll be signing Catching the Big Fish, and perhaps discussing his ill-fated, bovinecentric awards season campaign for Inland Empire.

· The Gold Derby blog's Tom O'Neil didn't take the Dreamgirls shut-out too well, but after some deep soul-searching and spiritual communion with his higher, musical-loving power, decided the only logical explanation was that Academy members simply couldn't identify with the African American, showtune-belting experience. Or, as he puts it, "Because they can't break out of their white skins, that's why." [GoldDerby]
· For counterpoint's sake, here's New York critic David Edelstein's thoughts on the matter: "I thought Dreamgirls was thoroughly mediocre (with one song, "We Are Family," among the most eardrum-lacerating things I've ever heard), but the dis is stunning." [New York]
· Imagine hearing this on your United flight into LAX: "The women in row 23 just got nominated for an Academy Award!" Then imagine the wild applause dying down once the captain comes back on the P.A. to announce, "Sorry, folks. False alarm...unless you're a big fan of documentaries about Jesus going to summer camp or something." [Yahoo/AP]
· With this year's Best Picture nominees grossing even less than last year's crop, Ellen DeGeneres is going to have to dance until her tuxedo is soaked through if she expects audiences to show up and stay. [PopWatch]

A Defamer operative, perhaps a little miffed that the two-day open house that CAA is holding later this week to show off the Wonkaesque inner workings of their intimidating new Century City Evil Factory might not feature valet service, slipped us these meticulously rendered self-parking instructions for its guests. (They're better off without the valets, anyway—they'd just force some junior agents into red coats for the event, who'd just ransack visitors' SUVs in a fruitless search for any concealed, delicious babies, then swipe all the loose change from their ashtrays.) But by making available such a detailed schematic, the agency has inadvertently exposed crucial vulnerabilities in their otherwise impenetrable stronghold; as you can clearly see in the above diagram, conspicuous yellow stars denote weak points in the structure's perimeter defenses, which determined teams of rebel forces from rival agencies may be able to exploit while CAA is distracted with the intake of legitimate invitees, destroying the Creative Artists Death Star from within before its roof-mounted doomsday laser is fully operational.

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week, so do whatever it takes to get them in. Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the night Wayne Brady didn't have to choke a bitch in order to enjoy a fun-filled evening in WeHo with Jai "the first Queer Eye to be eaten if the Fab Five were to get stranded in the Himalayas" Rodriguez.

Granted, Meryl Streep isn't a capital-D Dame and the second headline is actually in reference to the favorable gambling odds for a Helen Mirren win, but our point about this year's hottest awards season trend, which we spotted back at the Golden Globes, still holds: Everyone's horny for the mature ladies of Oscar. On this year's red carpet, nubile upstarts like Penelope Cruz will be virtually ignored while E!'s omnipresent cameras capture handsy pre-show inquisitor Isaac Mizrahi lavishing attention upon Mirren's ample, immodestly presented bosom, and as Ryan Seacrest unconvincingly delivers clumsy, scripted come-ons inquiring into Judi Dench's sexual availability.

A tipster reports:

• Joan Collins vs Charlotte Rae (Legends) [YouTube]

We imagine that you're a little sick of the wall-to-wall Oscar nominations coverage right about now (if we had our way, they'd have an entire primetime ceremony, complete with red carpet and marathon coverage by multiple crews from celebrity-fellating basic cable channels for the noms announcements, but then again, we're a little sick), so in the interest of giving you a brief respite from awards chatter, we direct you to this video of Tara Reid being dance-humped by a couple of eager partners at a Sundance club. While it doesn't quite live up to the expectations established by TMZ's breathless exhortation YOU GOTTA SEE THIS, it's nonetheless nice to spend some time with an actress with absolutely no chance at peer-recognition on this Oscar-oversaturated day.

· If you're trying to pinpoint the exact moment when the controversy over Sundance's Hounddog (aka, The Dakota Fanning Rape Project) officially became a circus, we recommend you consider this quote from Officially Outraged Catholic League Media Whore William Donahue, who refuses to see exactly what he's protesting: "If someone tells me that there's a statue of Martin Luther King with an erection receiving oral sex, I don't need to see it." [Variety]
· Pariah producing partners Gavin Polone and Jamie Tarses break up after 14 months of working together. Polone rebounds into an overall deal at HBO, while Tarses sticks around with a new deal at Sony Pictures TV. If you're wondering about the children already in development, the parents are maintaining joint custody. [THR]
· Among Var's Oscar fun facts: sound mixer Kevin O'Connell (Apocalypto) gets a chance to break his all-time record for nominations without a win by scoring his 19th bid. Also, Alan Arkin has gone 28 years in between nominations. [Variety]
· At last, a measure of vindication for persecuted showrunner Aaron Sorkin: Studio 60's ratings are up slightly following a long hiatus of first-run episodes. [THR]
· Coming-of-age film Son of Rambow finally inspires a Sundance bidding war that allows the trades to invoke last year's Little Miss Sunshine insanity. [Variety]

Only slightly less joyful than discovering who's been tapped on the shoulder by Oscar's golden finger on nomination morning is reading the nominees' reactions. (We sometimes wish the snubbees were approached for comment, too, though processing endless sentiments along the lines of, "How do you think it feels? It sucks!" might drain some of the giddiness from the proceedings.) A round-up of some of the more memorable responses:
· Mark Wahlberg: "I was able to put my real-life experiences with the Boston Police to good use after all. After all the torture I have put [my parents] through, to know they cried happy tears today. I'll think about that for a while." [Variety]
· Al Gore returned to his robotic ways, saying he was "so grateful to the entire team and pleased that the Academy has recognized their work. This film proves that movies really can make a difference." [ABC/AP]
· Stephen Frears on the Achievement in Directing field: "If you get put in a list with those guys you've done pretty well.'' [Guardian/AP]
· Peter O'Toole closed his eyes, and, after a long pause in which he carefully formulated what he wanted to say, replied, "If you fail the first time, try, try, try, try, try, try, try again. Yoicks!" [USA Today]

A couple of weeks ago at the TCA cable press tour, FX president John Landegraf played it a little coy when he hinted that things on new offering Dirt would get better about five episodes into the season, but didn't indicate exactly what form the coming improvement would take. According to TV Guide.com, viewers who stick with the show a little longer will be treated to the kind of stunt-lesbianism usually reserved for more established series in need of a ratings boost:

As ABC lawyers continue to pore through the "Legitimate Grounds for Shitcanning" paragraph in Isaiah Washington's contract, the disgraced Grey's Anatomy actor with the well-documented prejudice against Hollywood's hard-working sodomites has been taking every possible measure to save his job reach across sexual preference lines to make amends. Washington fired his longtime publicist Cynthia Snyder, presumably for her failure to stuff a cocktail napkin into his mouth before the fatal slur could re-emerge; in her place he hired Kelly "I managed to get the world to stop talking about R. Kelly peeing on a 14-year-old and start talking about 'Trapped in a Closet!'" Mullens and her partner in damage control crime, Allen Mayer. First order of business: Getting Washington into a roomful of Gays. Reports the AP:

Every year, New York Magazine film critic David Edelstein and producer Lynda Obst correspond via email on the day the Oscar nominations are announced, and their ramblings are posted on the mag's website (this year, they're hosted by the Daily Intel). Yes, you heard right: email. We hear David had been really edging towards IM this year, but there was a last-minute glitch involving animated emoticons. Anyway, in the spirit of immediacy, we thought we'd liveblog our thoughts as we read David and Lynda's e-pistles.

By liberally expanding its definition of "snubbed" from "someone we might have reasonably expected to be nominated, but wasn't" to "anyone with a SAG card who wasn't awoken by a congratulatory phone call this morning," The Envelope has quickly compiled a fairly encyclopedic list of inconsolable also-rans. Since we're all acutely aware of Dreamgirls' pain this morning, we select the male acting categories for snub spotlighting: