It's easy to forget, in all the controversy surrounding her recent dismissal from The View, that the almost impossibly glamorous Star Jones was once Starlet Jones, a highly principled and sober assistant D.A from Brooklyn. Delivering trenchant legal analysis to CourtTV audiences in a wardrobe limited to sensible leprechaunwear, the Starlet in this unearthed 1991 video seems worlds away from the rampaging couch diva and insufferable red carpet celebrity suck-ass we've come to know and loathe over the years. We'd go on about how this is a cautionary tale of what becomes a high moral character when egos and greed are driven to excess, but damn it if she doesn't look a zillion times better after she spent some of her millions on stomach removal surgery, a breast lift, and some chi chi designer duds. Celebrity 1, Integrity 0.

Prepare yourselves for an existential crisis that will likely result in the selling of all of your belongings and an immediate relocation to an ashram in Tibet to contemplate your place in a suddenly meaningless world. In the UK publication The Sun, paradigmatic celebutard Paris Hilton upends everything you thought you knew about Paris Hilton. Here it comes, get ready for it...bam:

Because it's Friday, we'll spare you ironic commentary on what our delighted viewing of these images of an apparently shitfaced Matthew McConaughey on a "three-day bender" in Costa Rica and a bikini-clad, karate-kicking Lindsay Lohan*. Says About Our Misguided Fascination With Celebrity. Sometimes it's OK to laugh at the silly famous people just because they got drunk too close to a guy with a camera.

We've received a couple of reports from operatives who were briefly inconvenienced by a bomb scare at the Scientology Celebrity Centre last night, which managed to snarl traffic on the streets around L. Ron Hubbard's Hollywood mothership while the threat was contained. Luckily for all in the vicinity, Celebrity Centre personnel allowed the proper authorities to handle the situation, avoiding the potentially catastrophic mistake of dispatching on-call OTR-III Explosives Tech Jenna Elfman to shout accusations of baby rape at the possible bomb until it was shamed into defusing itself and enrolling in a pricey self-actualization course, and disaster was averted. The first report:

When a screenplay calls for, say, Reese Witherspoon's character to prop herself naked on all fours, arch her back, and screech like a cat in heat, it usually falls to Hollywood's immodest footsoldiers, the body double, to make the scene come alive. And while they have yet to form their own guild, they are paid for their services with SAG membership. In China, however, body double benefits are sorely lagging, but one outspoken skin twin is courageously standing up for her T&A-subbing rights:

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers. Send yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you saw Tobey Maguire doing the Vincent Chase thing in the lobby of the Century City AMC.

Please join us in celebrating the monetary and spiritual contributions of this week's sponors, whose continuing support may allow us to keep this site afloat long enough to finally gaze on a photograph of Tom Cruise's baby. If you'd like to advertise on Defamer and help us wait out Tom and Suri, see this page.

· Cower before the box office juggernaut that is Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, which "huge tracking numbers" reveal may crush Aquaman's all-time opening weekend record. Still, Disney's head of distribution pretends he's not already designing gloating ads in the trades with room for nine figures trailing a golden dollar sign: "No matter how you answer that question, it can come back to hurt you." Eh, stop being such a pussy and predict a $200 million take! No one will hold you to the figure on Monday morning, we promise. [Variety]
· Now this is one we've gotta see for ourselves: The Princess Bride's Westley will molest Lindsay Lohan in Georgia Rule. [THR]
· Emmy mysteries: How can the voters get it so right by snubbing the now unwatchable Desperate Housewives, yet so wrong by ignoring Lost? [Variety]
· Bafflingly, Crash's multiple Oscar wins did not result in the immediate blackballing of all involved in its production, as those with the most damning ties to the film continue to get work. [THR]
· The remake of All the King's Men will premiere at the Toronto Film Festival, unless Sony freaks out again and pushes it back to do some more "edits." [Variety]
· Yarr, cutesy pirate talk has no place in a trade publication. [THR]

We're arriving to the burgeoning feud between The Movie Blog and Paramount in media res, but here's the short version of what's transpired between the warring factions: Blog publishes unauthorized advance photo of a robot from the Transformers movie; studio asks blog to take down photo; blog complies; without warning, studio has blog's host yank site over a complaint about a different photo; blog writes "angry" open letter to studio over comically ill-advised move; studio tries to head off bad publicity headed its way over botched attempt to crush blog. Got that? The Movie Blog updates what's transpired in their fight:

With Aaron now out of the picture, and her children having either flown the coop and/or waging bitter tabloid battles against her, rumors have arisen that Candy Spelling is looking to dump the famed 56,500-square-foot Holmby Hills mansion the family has called home since the late 1980s. TMZ.com was first to report the estate was on the market, priced at a Sultan-friendly $150 million, but a quick denial was issued, and TMZ updated their story, specifying it was a "pocket listing." (Which, from as best as we can gather, is a listing on the downlow.) Today's LAT addresses what a sale like this would mean to the obnoxiously overpriced real estate market:

No one can say that superproducer Jerry Bruckheimer doesn't know exactly what the people want from their summer entertainments, and in the case of Pirates of Caribbean 2 (opening today in 4,133 theaters near you!), The Bruck has gleaned that the public is clamoring for a severe, "old fashioned" set of blueballs induced by a [SPOILER ALERT, SORT OF] cliffhanger ending that necessitates a return trip to the multiplex next summer for the completion of their blockbuster handjob. Cackles Bruckheimer to the LAT:

We have a crucial piece of advice for Russell Crowe in the wake of his announcement that he's had another son: Go immediately to the People or Us Weekly and have the child's picture taken. This is not to avoid the same kind of suspicion that has befallen Tom Cruise for his refusal to appear in public with or release photos of his possibly imaginary child; no one thinks Crowe could be bothered to stage such a stunt. Rather, we think it's wise to create a public record of his infant's likeness, lest a desperate Cruise snatch the baby while the Crowes slumber (think an elaborate heist in the vein of the first Mission: Impossible, but instead of being suspended upside down over a computer, the hero is carefully lowered over the crib, careful to avoid the motion-sensitive mobile guarding the baby) for use in a photo shoot of his own, dismissing with a terse "Whatever!" anyone bold enough to ask him, "Wait a minute, isn't Suri supposed to be a girl?"

· Honestly, we'd never even heard of Amanda Congdon until today, but here is the obligatory link to her post about why she's leaving/was fired from the Rocketboom thingy. We suppose we're sad, because the interweb can hardly stand to lose many more hot chicks willing to perform for geeks every day without requiring a shady credit card transaction. Maybe Valleywag can explain it better.
· And as long as we're doing a little Gawker Media logrolling, Consumerist is really making itself AOL's Public Enemy Number One. We couldn't be prouder.
· If you're going to throw a Viagra-fueled party on a jet, you better make damn sure you have some Hollywood producers along to supervise.
· Somehow, we get the feeling that Heather Locklear, while apparently crazy enough to date David Spade, is not nearly unbalanced to the point where she'd get the name of his Just Shoot Me character permanently etched into her body. Just a hunch.
· Orlando Bloom Embraces His Inner Pirate, who immediately feels uncomfortable and finds a flimsy excuse to head back to the bar for another drink.

When frequently incarcerated actress Michelle Rodriguez was recently asked how she passed the time during her brief, yet eventful, recent stints in jail, she gamely demonstrated her most memorable night in lock-up using nothing more than her own armpit and a pantomime vagina helpfully provided by a nearby fan. Onlookers were initially stunned by the display, but by the time she finished her impromptu, bravura performance, she was basking in their lusty applause.

Courteney Cox Arquette opened up to Marie Claire magazine recently, candidly sharing what life is like for an aging actress in Hollywood. Apparently, it's a living nightmare, as you come to realize your once-radiant good looks are being ravaged by time, pulling you kicking and screaming into middle age and beyond:

In what we're absolutely certain isn't a publicity stunt meant to exploit the current buzz around Tom Cruise's inability to fetch an acceptable price for the first photographs of his rapidly devaluing, still-unseen, possibly fantastical daughter, online betting site BetUS.com has announced that it's trying to procure photos of the suspicious infant for display on their website. An excerpt from their press release:

· Music round-up: An indie rock nerd's wet dream materializes at the Hollywood Bowl, where Belle & Sebastian will join The Shins and the LA Philharmonic; Indigo Girls and Michelle Malone at the Santa Monica Pier; Silversun Pickups and Run Run Run at the Hammer.
· We won't insult your intelligence by explaining what the book's about, but contributors to Tied In Knots: Funny Stories from the Wedding Day will read at Vroman's tonight.
· We'll leave it up to you to figure out how to RSVP, but this Craiglist post points us to this website, which is offering tickets to a screening of Little Miss Sunshine at the Grove tonight. Follow links at your own risk, tantalized by the possibility of seeing Steve Carell on the big screen for free. We offer no guarantees you won't be kidnapped and/or mutliated should you make it to the screening.

Defamer is committed to assisting its physically unique readers in fulfilling their dreams of appearing in a major motion picture. Prospective fame-seekers interested in sharing screen time with Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean 3, sure to be one of next summer's biggest blockbusters, must be able to "play ethnic," "play small," or "play pigment-free." From the ongoing background casting call for Pirates 3:

Feeling that their popular backlot tour was in dire need of some freshening up—visitors, it seemed, just hadn't been responding as enthusiastically to the "Six Million Dollar Man Bigfoot Attack Spectacular" as they had in recent decades—Universal Studios set about reconfiguring their world famous tourist draw for savvier, 21st century audiences. The LAT spent the $99.95 for "front-of-the-line" passes, a no-waiting tram ticket to canned narration by Whoopi Goldberg, updated movie sets, and a thoroughly underwhelming automated stunt show:

We'd never begrudge our newest, highest-profile cinematic superhero any endorsement opportunities that might arise from his gig as the Man of Steel, but there's something unintentionally hilarious about Brandon Routh's infomercial for Rope Yoga. We trust Routh's claims that this form of exercise was invaluable to his preparation for the physical rigors he would face on the Superman Returns set, but each time we see him demonstrating the machines upon which he trained for his strenuous flying harness work, it's hard not to imagine that archnemesis Lex Luthor has entangled him in Kryptonite ropes, bonds from which he's struggling to break free before Lois Lane takes her final step towards oblivion on a nearby booby-trapped StairMaster.