We knew that it wouldn't take long for somebody with a scanner to release The Sun's pics of a young Tom Cruise dressed up as Dorothy (remember—he WAS Dorothy, not a "friend of," that's an important distinction) and a flapper into the wilds of the internets. The mind boggles at how many tense sessions grabbing the e-meter it took to chase off whatever troublesome body thetans were responsible for this potentially embarrassing chapter in his life.

Russell Crowe's $11 million, seven-years-in the-pokey nightmares might finally be over, as the NY Daily News reports that Tinseltown's blunt-object-hurlingest actor may have settled with the concierge who helpfully used his face to prevent Crowe's vexing telephone from striking the wall behind him. What's the going rate for being on the business end of an Oscar winner's jetlag? Probably the "low six figures." "No comments" have been issued on behalf both parties, but service industry professionals now have a rough guideline of what they might expect in exchange for some well-timed, poor customer service.

Firstly, in case you missed the UPDATE to the previous item, we know that they found Scout Taylor-Runaway, or whatever her name is. Thank you, God, for delivering her back to her parents some ten seconds after we remarked on her disappearance. We knew you were listening!

Don't get us wrong. We're lighting candles for the speedy and healthy return of missing (and possible runaway) actress Scout Taylor-Compton, but didn't her parents have any real pictures of her to send to the press? Trying to identify someone by their head shot is nearly impossible. (In ours, we look like a 19-year-old George Clooney, but with Brad Pitt's abs.) We also don't know why the wire stories about the disappearance have to include an exhaustive listing of her credits ("Hey, are you that missing actress? Loved, loved you on Gilmore!") and frequent mentions of her publicist, but we're sure those two things are completely unrelated.

The Writers Guild is again helping reality TV writers sue, this time getting all up in the legal grill of Fox and Rocket Science Laboratories, the visionaries behind such masterworks as Renovate My Family, Joe Millionaire, and Seriously, Dude, I'm Gay. And this time, they're throwing around phrases like "unbearable" and "appalling conditions" to describe their long hours of work and uncompensated overtime:

· Paramount, the studio that never met a remake idea it didn't like, has acquired the rights to Battle of the Network Stars, which will be reimagined as a "star-studded," big-screen comedy. New Gay Mafia don Jimmy Miller of Mosaic is producing, and has "strong relationships with comedy stars and is expected to use them." Translation: Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller running through a tire maze in short-shorts. [Variety]
· California politicians defend their production incentive bill to stop runaway production, claiming it will secure middle-class jobs and prevent the further siphoning of acting talent from the local service industry to New Orleans. [THR]
· Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences elects Sid Ganis as their new president, while Tom Hanks is chosen as a vice president for the actors branch. Outgoing president Frank Pierson will be stungunned with extreme prejudice should he try to attend this year's Oscar ceremony. [Variety]
· Sandra Bullock is in negotiations to star in Premonition, about a woman whose husband dies in a car crash and then appears alive the next day. Bullock's already proven her unbelievable-car-wreck-movie chops in the recent Crash. [THR}
· Mark Burnett launches Burnett records ito release a CD of performances from his mildly successful reality show Rock Star: INXS. Wouldn't it be easier to just dump the CDs and bags full of money directly into a landfill? [Variety]

Wherein we invite our readers to cast their lovingly-tied flies into the placid blind item river stocked with naughty celebrity fish by humpy E! gossip bait shop proprietor Ted Casablanca. This week, another startling revelations: When club-going starlets disappear into the stall with two of their closest friends, it's not necessarily to enlist their help operating the flush handle. Enjoy the throat-drip of One Stalled Blind Vice:

Yesterday, we learned that if you don't treat the domestics with dignity and respect, they will rob you blind in retaliation. Today, a new life lesson from Hollywood: If you abuse your publicists, they will plant unflattering items in Page Six:

The LAT has obtained the transcript from Scarlett Johansson's 911 call following her recent paparazzi-induced fender-bender at Disneyland. Johansson stayed admirably calm and collected through the conversation with the dispatcher, never once calling hysterically for the Jaws of Life to free her iPod from her damaged vehicle, or, for that matter, to loose the other party from their steel prison. But the call was not without drama, as some unexpected tension arises when Johansson discovers that her accident-partner's ride is tragically unfashionable.

Gridskipper continues to obsessively analyze each new episode of Taradise, E!'s gift to the cultural anthropologists at the future Tara Reid Center for the Study of Drunken Television Travelogues (the University of Santa Barbara is currently breaking ground on a standalone building). This week (yes, we watched, and we're pretty sure that ten minutes in we were drunk from the fumes rising from the TV), Reid proved conclusively that high levels of intoxication and low levels of intelligence don't make for thoughtful discussion of the day's most pressing issues, as the hostess responds to a dining companion's anecdote about the London bombings with this brief meditation on terrorism:

· "Yet again, a tabloid has been caught lying.Thankfully the judicial process worked, but how many cases like this will it take before these tabloids feel obligated to print the truth? Have they no shame?" God, it's so hot when a publicist gets indignant!
· The strangest, saddest story we've heard in a while takes a turn towards the stranger and sadder. Dying from suffocation underneath a heart attack victim is something out of the first two minutes of a Six Feet Under episode.
· On his 50th birthday, breakout Project Greenlight director John Gulager will suddenly and mysteriously find himself drawn to badly written science fiction and nautical attire.
· FilmStew puts on the tinfoil helmet, smelling something fishy in Steve Coogan's denial of the rumor that he knocked up Courtney Love.
· Don't fuck with Jack White, for he will not hesitate to publicly humiliate you.

· At CineSpace, Mediabistro hosts the seminar "TV Writing: The Skill, the Job, and How to Get Both," in which you will meet real! live! TV writers! (from shows such as SATC, House, and The West Wing) and learn what you need to do to land that first staff job. Afterwards, you may drink with any panelists whom you haven't scared off with your desperation.
· In what may be the evening's sole opportunity to blend modern commerce and a performer from the Reality Bites soundtrack, songstress Lisa Loeb performs at the Grove.
· Margaret Cho: Assassin screens at the Egyptian. Hang around for Cho's post-screening discussion, hang around still longer for the reception hosted by a well-known vodka company.

It seems like just yesterday that a source within ICM called the rumor that client Jeremy Piven had, ahem, shitcanned ICM in favor of CAA, the poach-happiest agency in town, "completely untrue and patently false." Cut to almost exactly 24 hours later:

Horatio Alger is cordially invited to blow us all, as today's LAT has the incredible and inspiring story of Flyboys star/producer David Ellison, who heroically overcame a lack of acting experience to be cast in the film with nothing but pluck, a billionaire pedigree, and a multimillion dollar investment:

Like a teacher taking his students outside for a special treat (but instead of delighted schoolkids, picture a bunch of people who have nothing better to do in the middle of the day but trade their dignity for gifts), Dr. Phil's taping his freakshow al fresco today at the Paramount lot. Says a spy:

Fark ran a Photoshop contest to find a fresh celebrity face for next year's gubernatorial race, but after seeing this poster, we think we have a frontrunner. California needs a man of unshakeable faith, a man who'll stand up to the drug companies, a man who will outfit those slackers in Sacramento with some smart, nautical-themed uniforms.

Each day this week, the SF Chronicle is publishing Sean Penn's (very serious) account of his recent (terribly important) trip to Iran, in which he meticulously documents the activities of his unofficial ambassadorship...have you stopped caring yet? Yeah, we thought so. Anyway, we've pushed back our immature mental chants of "Spicoli's in Tehran! Spicoli's in Tehran!" long enough to follow along through the first three days, and, finally, Penn gets around to some movie talk (why is it always politics this, politics that with this guy?) at a dinner party:

Defamer is committed to helping its readers find exciting opportunities in the celebrity pet-pampering field. We realize that this ad is almost certainly the product of an anonymous Craigslist jokester, but if nothing else, it's a fitting reminder that we're all just one wipe of a spoiled shit-tzu's ass from that coveted and elusive three-picture deal:

Robert De Niro's housekeeper has admitted that she stole from the actor and his wife, but in protest—not over De Niro's recent, disastrous career choices (we'd happily lift his Rolex if it helped him pass on Showtime 2), but because of the poor treatment she received, as her more respectful employers went unburgled:

· Hollywood still fascinated with Hollywood: Christopher Guest shifts from mockumentary to a movie about making a bad indie movie that attracts awards buzz in For Your Consideration, and adds Ricky Gervais to his regular cast. [Variety]
· Keanu Reeves and CZJ are "circling" Lana-Turner-dead-boyfriend movie Stompanato. We note this only because a writer of Snakes on a Plane is involved in the project. [THR]
· Sony to pay Blackhawk Down writer Ken Nolan $3 million for a "script-ment" (longer than a treatment, not quite a script) of as-yet-unpublished alien sci-fi novel The Grays. Tomorrow, Sony hopes to announce a $2 million option of a rough crayon sketch of Will Smith shooting a stick figure on a CPK placemat. [Variety]
· Milos Forman will direct Natalie Portman and Javier Bardem in a biopic about Spanish painter Francisco de Goya. Will this project prove arty enough for Portman to finally go topless? Remember, that movie about Frida Kahlo finally got Salma Hayek to loosen up, even though we had to compromise on the eyebrows and mustache. [THR]
· NBC Universal Television Studios (NUTS) showers the Weitz Brothers in the cash of desperation, signing them to a two-year television deal potentially worth $4 million. [Variety]