The Wicked Chops Poker blog has alerted us that a statement, along with a thousand white doves artfully adorned with red and black card suits, has been released from the windows of B/W/R, the publicity firm hired by widely contested former "Hollywood agent" Jamie Gold just moments after winning the World Series of Poker championship. As you may recall, for some reason, Gold's associate Crispin Leyser is suing for half of the $12 million winnings—the miscommunication might have something to do with the message Gold left on Leyser's voicemail, saying, "I promise you - you can keep this recording on my word - there's no possible way you're not going to get half after taxes."

The Us Weekly blog has something important to say about the Redstone-Cruise affair. We're not exactly sure what that is, but it involves several spellbinding animated morphs, tracing Tom Cruise's progression from young man, to bankable adult movie star, to a variety of creatures that could well be found wandering on and around Paris Hilton's kitchen island at any given moment. But instead of reading too deeply into their disturbing theories of Tom's "evolution," we're simply going to click the play button over and over, because it's Friday, and morphing is fun!

If we were informed that any of our beloved sponsors were mingling inside Scott Caan's 30th birthday party, not only would we not cower inside an SUV, we'd joyously bound out of the vehicle and push party guests and trays of hors d'oeuvres out of our way until we managed to find them in the crowd—no doubt entertaining a large group with one of their witty anecdotes—and wrap our arms around them, whispering into their ears just how much they mean to us. Then again, our sponsors never begged us to get help for our "mental problems" on national TV. If you'd like to join the family, everything you need to know is right here.

Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie managed to leave the Compound That Love Built™ last night, secure that Maddox, Zahara and the Chosen One were being well supervised in their nursery, amusing themselves to no end with the various hand-carved, African farming implements they've been provided with in place of more traditional, "Western" toys. The occasion was Scott Caan's 30th birthday at a Hollywood art gallery, a star-studded event also attended by his Oceans 13 co-star Matt Damon, with nuclear-family-elements in tow. But things quickly grew awkward when, upon Jolie's arrival, she was informed that Jon Voight, the father to whom she hasn't spoken in years, was inside:

· AOL struggles to find new reasons to justify its pointless existence in a broadband world by offering downloadable movies from most of the majors, set at the three price points of $19.99, $14.99 and $9.99, or crap, crappier and crappiest. [Variety]
· More online entertainment news—we know, it's too much sexy, you can't bear it. CBS will stream episodes of some of their series, such as The Unit and The Class, in the hope that eyeballs they've lost to computer porn might shift over to some of their shows once they're, uh, done with their computer porn business. [Variety]
· A national janitors' union presents their Golden Broom Awards for the "worst place for janitors to work." (Wouldn't a golden broom suggest excellence in the custodial arts? We would have gone with the Leaky Bucket Awards, but hey, not our gig.) Winners this year include NBC Studios, Universal Citywalk and Warner Music Group. Defamer commentators go wild with "Tom Cruise new career opportunity" jokes. [Variety]
· Gerard Butler and Hilary Swank will put their ambisexual chemistry to the test in P.S. I Love You, a movie we will not see because it is called P.S. I Love You. [THR]
· THR claims this year's Emmys arrive among "a din of disenchantment." Hey, if it makes you feel better, Emmy, we'll check you out. On TiVo. Well, we'll just fast forward to the Conan O'Brien bits and to see if Ellen Burstyn wins The Leaky Bucket the Emmy for her 14-second performance. [THR]

It's a cliche to say that some of history's greatest battles have been fought over, or to end the incessant nagging of, a great woman. And yet according to Page Six, that is exactly what might have been the catalyst for what led to one of the most sensational verbal slap-fights in recent Hollywood history, between semi-fossilized Viacom chieftain Sumner Redstone and his former marquee kook, Tom Cruise:

If CBS' goal was to get people talking again about a show no one has given a shit about for years, then yes, divvying up this season's out-of-work-actor cast of Survivor into four piles of headshots of increasing darkness definitely proves how Mark Burnett is a true visionary of the genre. But not everyone is as energized by the hook:

Highly eligible local bachelor Robert Evans is reportedly not pleased with Hollywood's weekly Narcissine gaze into show business' murky waters, Entourage. Having been approached to play a jokey version of himself, like so many other behind-the-scenes luminaries have done already, the immaculately becoiffed superproducer politely turned them down. As a consolation prize, he offered full access to shoot in his multi-waterbedroom manse. But then he got a look at the final product—particularly the aging, buffoon producer played by Martin Landau:

As he is wont to do from time to time, Mark will awaken me in the dead of night with a phone call, screaming that he has once again "had the dream." He never describes what exactly goes down in this dream, though hints are occasionally dropped between the disconsolate whimpers—last night, for example, I specifically remember him mentioning "the children," and "LASIK." There is no need for alarm, however, as if this turns out anything like last time, your Defamer editor will be located in a number of hours, albeit completely naked and attempting to engage the patrons of the House of Pies on Vermont Ave. in conversation. In the meantime, your less emotionally fragile associate editor is happy to take up the slack, and carry you through this final, Friday hurdle before your weekend.

· We're pretty sure that when Mr. Internet first drew up his plans for the webosphere, he envisioned it solely as a means through which people could place bids on items of food half-eaten by pop stars and their layabout husbands.
· The first wave of inevitable Redstone Vs. Cruise t-shirts arrives, with Team Redstone apparel now on sale on CafePress. Next up: the Team Cruise "I wasn't fired, I quit" shirt.
· The Reeler takes a look at the Jewish Babe Renaissance led by Rachel Weisz, Natalie Portman, and Scarlett Johannson. Please insert your own joke about how this might affect Mel Gibson's feelings about the Chosen People.
· It's no Stuff On My Cat or Cats in Sinks, but RecordStoreCats isn't bad—and has a much higher potential for feline-induced motion sickness.
· William H. Macy on Lindsay Lohan and others of her inconsiderate, entitled, late-to-set ilk: "There is not an apology big enough in the world to have to make 150 people scramble. It's nothing but disrespect. And Lindsay Lohan is not the only one. A lot of actors show up late as if they're God's gift to the film. It's inexcusable, and they should have their asses kicked."

As we pointed out yesterday, there are many things that Emmy winners can do with their gaudy, underutilized statuettes besides placing them upon a mantel, waiting for dust motes to collect upon their once-polished surface. While whimsical honorees might find a cute way for their golden angel to help out around the house, the more practical-minded might realize that Emmy, with the assistance of Craigslist, can also lend a hand with balancing the checkbook:

Perhaps the only person who's been more suspiciously silent than Tom Cruise himself in the wake of the once-cherished Viacom son being left to die of exposure at the base of Mt. Paramount by displeased corporate parent Sumner Redstone is Brad Grey, the studio head who might be expected to have a say on such crucial talent decisions. It seems that Grey quickly tired of instructing his assistant to tell any quote-hungry reporters that he was unavailable for comment due to a weeklong sensory deprivation tank retreat, as the Paramount boss finally offered up a soundbite on the Cruise controversy:

UPDATE: A reader fluent in Japanese fills us in on some of the juicier tidbits that were lost in translation, including what the show's anchors are giggling about at the end of the video. It's after the jump.

A Defamer operative managed to get his hands on the audio from that infamous night at the Viper Room, when Nicole Richie, looking for a low-key evening of rock n' roll, instead found herself the victim of a handpuppet humiliation. The audio evidence, which we've uploaded for your inspection, reveals that the incident involved not one but two Triumph-style puppets who tag-team taunted poor Richie with jokes on the price of food and boasts about the size of their felt manhood. What we don't hear is any laughter, from the stage, audience, or otherwise, which could be why the artist in question has since been informed that his insult-puppet services were "too controversial" and would no longer be needed, essentially clearing his schedule for any birthdays, bar mitzvahs, or "Paris" CD signings which may come his way in the weeks to come.

· Thursday night music round-up: Let's Go Sailing and Oh No! Oh My! at the Echo; Skye at the Troubadour; Chinky Eyed's 5th Anniversary with Mr. Hyde and others at Knitting Factory; Don Caballero at Spaceland.
· Yes, you've probably seen Shrek 2 on more the one occasion. But have you ever seen it for free while crushed in the middle of mob of tourists, surrounded by blinding neon, and in view of a Hard Rock Cafe? Exactly. Citywalk is calling your name, friend. [via Cheapskatin' LA]
· If green CGI ogres aren't your thing, there's the world premiere screening of Albert Fish at the Vine Theater, "the horrific true story of elderly cannibal, sadomasochist, and serial killer, who lured children to their deaths in Depression-era New York City." That certainly beats Mike Myers doing an exaggerated Scottish accent.

If you're anything like us (and really, we hope for your sake that you're much better adjusted), you've spent the last couple of days wondering what Tom Cruise has been doing to keep himself busy while his various mouthpieces suffer the slings and arrows of outraged fortune-hoarder Sumner Redstone on the star's behalf. This afternoon, at least, it seems that Cruise is looking for his next paycheck over in Santa Monica, confining his job search to the office park where both Yahoo! and HBO are located. Report two operatives on Cruise's very recent whereabouts:

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are crafted by you, our readers, and posted throughout the week. Send them often to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let the world know about the time you saw Mandy Patinkin head off to soap his privates at your local athletic club.

The obsessively covered public row following Sumner Redstone's announcement of perhaps the most sensational contract non-renewal in Hollywood history has, regrettably, shifted attention away from the plight of Tom Cruise war bride Katie Holmes, who must temporarily endure her billion-year imprisonment in obscurity, content to know that her much-scrutinized personal services agreement with the star may have played a crucial part (even if just for purposes of Viacom's PR manipulation) in her partner's troubles. Taking inspiration from Michael Lohan's heartwrenching cartoon depicting the evil forces keeping father from troubled, starlet daughter, Gallery of the Absurd helpfully retrains the spotlight on Holmes' troubles, reminding us that behind every ugly war of words between fading megastar and cost-cutting mogul, there's a helpless woman back at home pretending to take of a fake baby while chained to an immovable object.

Variety delves into the clusterfuckage that is the Redstone-Cruise situation, noting that even though CAA is rattling its saber over Cruise's perceived mistreatment, Paramount owns a significant chunk of super-client Steven Spielberg's ass, and wonders what might happen to the Cruise/Wagner projects set up at the 'Mount. [Variety]
· Cruise's break-up with his longtime studio companion "might have been the result of something as mundane as DVD sales." Fed-up partner Redstone has also intimated that Cruise's "insensitive refusal to put down the toilet seat after he's finished with his business" may have also been a factor in the split. [THR]
Apple pays $100 million to Creative for using their patented "words that make a clicky noise as you highlight them on a tiny video screen" interface on their iPod. [Variety]
Americans between the ages of 18-49 prove that their appetite for watching Tommy Lee and Dave Navarro offer slight variations on either positive, "You really brought it, bro!" or negative, "You really need to bring it, bro!" sentiments is still healthy, making Rock Star: Supernova Wednesday's most-watched show by their demographic. [THR]
TBS and some Fox affiliates buy the rights to Tyler Perry's syndicated sitcom House of Payne, which will go on to be wildly successful despite being completely ignored by white audiences. [Variety]

Nicole Richie has become so undernourished lately that round food items such as donuts, hardboiled eggs and apples can often be found rolling off nearby counters and towards the calorie-vacuum that is her body, which she must irritably swat away lest the unwanted sustenance affix itself to her legs. It's become so noticeable lately that people have taken to callously calling her out on her gaunt appearance, such as in this item from British e-newsletter Popbitch: