It's much easier to headline the obituary with a reference to the just-deceased actor's Empire role (he played Admiral Ozzel, if you didn't know that already) than his apparent struggle with typecasting, as Sheard played Adolf Hitler in Indiana Jones and Last Crusade...and three other times. Somewhat ironically, he didn't land the role in the 1973 TV movie The Death of Adolf Hitler; he had to settle for lesser National Socialist Heinrich Himmler (whom he would also play again).

After none of his personal favorites from the casting process for the third installment of The Apprentice made it through to the show, Donald Trump spent the entire season unhappy with the cast, a prisoner of his own fake boardroom. This season, however, Trump seized control, and the new lineup of Armani-clad firing fodder will reflect The Donald's predictable exquisite taste. From the NY Times:

· Martha Stewart is callously ignoring our generously offered Apprentice dismissal catchphrase, "Bite the doily," in favor of the unfathomably less catchy "You just don't fit in."
· Anchorwomen, please don't forget that this is a very stressful time for your co-workers in the weather department. They don't need your sass right now.
· The cops are nickel-and-diming Jennifer Aniston's cheapskate stalker: "'The petty theft charge is a result of him taking a cab and stiffing the cab driver,' Los Angeles County District Attorney's spokeswoman Jane Robison said. 'He took a cab from Santa Barbara to Malibu and then didn't pay.'"
· Teaching kids to respect copyrights has never been so much fun! "(kid with blue, deformed, football-shaped head) a pirate is what we call someone who steals stuff online, including songs... pirates nowadays don't have to look like pirates, it's just what we call people who steal stuff online. Let's go ask Cookie what to do, come on!"
· The Arnold Schwarzenegger Museum in Graz, Austria, is closing its doors. We hope that his original set of steroid-shriveled testes can find a temporary home until they can one day occupy a permanent place of honor in his presidential library.

· The ArcLight is screening Miramax's long-delayed Proof (filmed, we think, in 1879) with a Q&A with director John Madden and Anthony "Sir Anthony" Hopkins. No appearance by Gwyneth Paltrow is listed, making your heartbreak all the more acute once you fall in love with her all over again during the film.
· A nice little Tuesday night music round-up: Smog at the Knitting Factory; the amazing John Vanderslice at Amoeba; Big Japan, featuring Adam "Seth Cohen" Brody on the skins, at the Viper Room.
· Sometimes (and we know we probably should never admit this) we list things just to make the nonstop barrage of press releases stop (stop, please?). With that in mind, Janice Dickinson's one-woman show is at the El Rey. We're sure she has incredibly insightful things to say about sharing a bathroom with Jose Canseco and Omarosa.

We feel no shame in admitting our ignorance of the issues at play in the upcoming SAG election, but that won't stop us from playing amateur strategist. If the Guy Who's Married to CSI's Marg Helgenberger is going to park a rolling campaign billboard with his headshot on it next to SAG HQ, then Chandler's Mom* is really going to need to step up her promotional efforts. She can't rest on the goodwill generated by those Old Navy commercials forever.

It's only been a day since George Clooney and his partners announced their plans to open a "classy" casino and resort in Las Vegas, and already so-called "experts" from the gaming industry are crapping all over their fancy dreams:

We've long heralded Craigslist as a an invaluable tool for all kinds of Hollywood professionals, from those looking for some help in the casting process to those seeking an assist from the kind of discreet go-getters that can only be contacted through an anonymous personal ad. CL once again amazes with its seemingly neverending utility, this time greasing the wheels of the arduous indie film location scouting process:

After dropping a handful of c-notes on their room at the Roosevelt and dining at the hotel's Dakota restaurant, city-hopping brother blog Gridskipper's L.A. correspondent and a friend still found themselves unable to penetrate celebrity-worshipping proprietress Amanda Scheer Demme's perimeter defenses at the Tropicana Bar, prompting this scribbled "comment card" (at left) and yet another chapter in the rapidly expanding canon of anti-Roosevelt/Trop literature:

We know what you're thinking in those dark moments between the CNN anchor's question and the rain-battered New Orleans correspondent's shouted answer: Sure, this hurricane business has been truly tragic, but how does it affect the entertainment industry's bottom line? After all, the Big Easy is the New Hollywood, and these destructive, inconvenient tropical storms and the ensuing declarations of martial law are a bitch on tight shooting schedules. The LAT looks at the storm's potential impact on the movie biz and runaway production:

· Gone are the days when Oscar winners were too afraid to drive their Bentleys through the dangerous ghettos of episodic television, as Charlize Theron will cruise through the rapidly gentrified neighborhood of Arrested Development for a five episode arc as a potential love interest for Jason Bateman's character. The days of lazy extended metaphors, however, are still with us. [Variety]
· Million Dollar Baby and Crash scribe Paul Haggis's heavy-handed gifts are sought out by Sony/MGM, who've signed him on for a rewrite of the James Bond pic Casino Royale. Can't wait for his version of that iconic line, "Bond. James Bond. James, like the king, and B-O-N-D—oh, shall I just write it down for you?" [THR]
· Producer Saul Zaentz, original Lord of the Rings rights-holder, reportedly squeezes another $20 million out of New Line in settling a lawsuit over the LOTR trilogy's royalties. [Variety]
· Cheri Oteri joins the cast of thousands of Richard "Donnie Darko" Kelly's Southland Tales as a "villainous lesbian bodybuilder." Strangely, we've always pictured her this way. [THR]
· Universal signs up The 40 Year-Old Virgin's Judd Apatow to write and direct another "offbeat romantic comedy," which will star longtime (Freaks and Geeks/Undeclared) muse Seth Rogen and semi-muses Paul Rudd and Leslie Mann. We have to admit, a Seth Rogen vehicle sounds kind of awesome. [Variety]

Everyone knows that J. Lo's junk-packed trunk is the real money maker, so we'll know her brand is truly dead once Big Lots starts offering a 2-for-$9.99 panty special.

GLAAD's census takers have put away their clipboards, determining that only about 2 percent of characters for the upcoming Fall network TV season are gay, and almost all are of the white male variety:

Page Six points us over to a post on Budapest blog Pestiside.hu, which details how Steven Spielberg's shoot for Munich (the city is standing in for Italy and Paris) is doing its best to teach the locals how lucky they are that Hollywood has chosen to bring movie magic to their budget-friendly home:

After months of painstaking preparations, the plan had finally come together. The marital strife played out in the unwittingly complicit tabloids, the arty, portentous magazine spreads, the signing of the divorce papers, and, lastly, the public face-mashing session with a co-star with whom no sexual attraction was shared, all culminated in this moment. While Angelina Jolie was occupied by a demanding scene on the set of The Good Shepherd, Brad Pitt slipped into her trailer, scooped up the newly-adopted Ethiopian orphan in the crook of his arm, and coolly strode to a waiting limo, never succumbing to the adrenaline pumping through his heart. Within an hour, actor and and child would board a private jet headed for the West Coast, where he would reunite with Jennifer, his wife, his one and true love, and finally start that family they'd long talked about. No swollen belly, no stalled career. A perfectly plotted Mametian double-cross. Ang and Maddox, he thought to himself, They'll get over this, they're strong. There are other orphans. But this one's mine. No. Ours.

· Is there any way to write a joke about the disappearance of Judy Garland's ruby slippers without getting an angry letter from Bert Fields?
· Voters in a survey by a British supermarket have determined that Eva Longoria is the "sexiest TV star of all time," forgetting, perhaps, that the telly wasn't invented last week.
· The Crime Spree blog offers its own version of the "Downey, Spader and Chateau" joke. We approve.
· The Hilarious Bitches™ of Fug undress the fashion abominations of the VMAs. Lohan's leopard dress seems to have passed muster, but Kirsten Dunst may never wear clothes again.
· If we all pray hard enough, do you think that Chris Farley's star on the Walk of Fame will get up in the middle of the night and take a dump on Ryan Seacrest's?

· The Suicide Girls are throwing a DVD launch party at Tommy Lee and Dave Navarro’s bar with rock-n-roll, Rokbar. You can meet some of the girls from the tour, then get drunk enough to lie about having enough hidden piercings and ink to have a chance with them.
· See filthy comics from sitcoms past at Monday Funday at the Comedy Store, featuring Roseanne (no surname this time) and Bob Saget, who treated an unknowing public to a tour of the dirty corners of his mind in The Aristocrats. Even money that he does at least one joke about having sex with either Uncle Joey or the Olsens.
· It's either this or a night listening to the theme music from a Yes Dear repeat: Frausdots and Gemma Hayes at the Viper Room, Radio Vago at the Troubadour.

NBC entertainment president Kevin Reilly knows that you can't circle the ratings toilet in fourth place, a single flush away from the Nielsen annihilation of UPN or WB numbers, and not hear chatter that your job might be something less than secure. Reilly keeps his chin up for Broadcasting & Cable:

With stories in both the LAT and on the AP wire about his reportedly heavy financial involvement in the new Las Ramblas casino development in Vegas, George Clooney and his flacks are doing their best to prove that he's not some Hollywood dilettante jerking off at the craps tables. He loves classy, Brat-Packy Old Vegas! He eschews the Mardi-Gras-parade-on-the-ceiling tackiness that attracts Jack and Marion Midwest! And did they mention he's put in a lot of money? But how does a George Clooney decide to get into the gambling business? The same way you might, by pausing in the middle of a bender to ask a buddy how cool it would be to have your own place:

Undeterred by the swift and resounding failure of its ex-con-with-a-heart-of-gold drama Jonny Zero and corresponding vaguely prison-themed menu at their News Cafe, the promotional visionaries at Fox have once again tapped the penal system for culinary inspiration. Right now, hungry employees can partake from a selection of Big House-flavored offerings, like braised pork fresh off the "Death Row"tisserie," "penitentiary personal pizzas," and the "solitary sandwich special" to show their support of tonight's Prison Break premiere. Sadly, there is no "shower rape corn-on-the-cob"; perhaps they're saving that for the wrap party.

It's as inevitable as a Suge Knight shooting: Lock a bunch of desperate reality TV "stars" (if your idea of stardom is having someone you vaguely recognize from MTV serve you a badly mixed drink on the Strip) in a Malibu mansion, roll some cameras, and just wait for the commencement of the golden showers, the orgies, and the ritualistic blowing of rails off skanktastic genitalia. Radar does its best to turn us off group sex for good by chronicling the extracurriclars of the Kill Reality cast: