In his weekly column in Variety, trade paper potentate Peter Bart dashes off a memo to Matt Damon, hoping to assist the privacy-cherishing megastar in cultivating a public persona somewhere between the "boring and elusive" one he's established by keeping a deliberately low media profile and the tabloid-torment-attracting model developed by the more outgoing characters occupying the genitalia-flashing, DUI-collecting end of the celebrity spectrum. Bart, striving for answers, engages in some deskchair psychoanalysis: Is Damon afraid of a Affleckian career flameout if fans gain US Weekly-supplied information about his daily Starbucks runs? [Ed.note—Please, Jesus, let Matt be a caramel macchiato man!] Does he fear that no one will believe he can kill ten double-agents with nothing more than a soggy phonebook if they know too much about his fancy-boy Harvard education? Probes Bart: