[Reality TV stars Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag (under the hat!) at LAX yesterday; image via Bauer-Griffin]

Pete Doherty, an entertainer of children who just may have some blood in his heroin system, has been thrown in the clink. The Babyshambles frontman and former paramour of hollow-boned Kate Moss ("Ow, my bones...") has been sent to English prison (a land without tea) for 14 weeks. On what charges, my good man? Well, for "breach of time keeping, non-compliance of his order and using different drugs." Ah. Different drugs. Had he stayed with the old ones... well, none of this would have happened. He'll miss two scheduled performances and untold instances of pants-wetting and sadness-inducing, and is thusly looking into filing an appeal. Perhaps the outcome of the appeal will finally determine once and for all if Pete is in fact famous enough to never really get in trouble, or if he's just a miserable shit like the rest of us. [Showbiz Spy]

Perhaps the only thing sadder than seeing a friend with a Facebook broken heart in their mini-feed is spotting a friend who has Barack Obama as their Facebook picture. It's one thing to be a "fan" of Barack Obama, or even Michelle Obama, who is admittedly quite fierce. But when a friend changes their profile picture to Barack Obama and joins the supplemental Facebook group, one has to wonder what they're thinking.

Skanky (but well-educated!) identity thieves Jocelyn Kirsch and Edward Anderton, arrested last week for stealing the identities of their Philadelphia neighbors, do not lack for balls. After being booked, the two went home to the condo—and the neighbors they robbed—to hang out until it was time to get re-arrested on additional charges. Kirsch's parents are both plastic surgeons—and guess what Daddy bought his college kid for Christmas a few years back? Implants, naturally! This year, the two would prefer a deal from the D.A., pretty please.

"Pony rides and face painting don't make for a good parent," Dina Matmos McGreevey emailed to former Jersey love guv and gay seminarian Jim McGreevey last week, demanding that he cancel this coming weekend's 6th birthday party for their daughter because she has custody that week. Do you know what happens to kids whose parents use them as tools of petty revenge? That's right: Tiny Courtney Loves. [NYP]

So Wired editor Chris Anderson can publicly name and excoriate "lazy flacks" who waste his oh-so-precious time with their emails—but Tim Page, the Washington Post classical music critic, is not allowed to send private emails trashing idiot publicists. Last Wednesday, in response to a dumb email blast on behalf of D.C.'s second and fourth mayor Marion Barry, Page wrote back: "Must we hear about it every time this Crack Addict attempts to rehabilitate himself with some new—and typically half witted—political grandstanding?" Page has been "disciplined," says the Post, and also publicly shamed by Executive Editor Len Downie. In addition, Marion Barry employs the worst communications director working in politics today. When a question was posed to him about the Page situation via email, his first response was: "Who are you and why are sending emails to me?" Now that's talent.

For six long days, wildfires have raged across southern California, displacing thousands, destroying millions of dollars worth of property; they still threaten tens of thousands of homes. Seven people are confirmed dead and an area twice the size of New York City is a charred wasteland. But the magazines must go on. According to Folio, the fires "have affected countless numbers of staffers at the region's magazines, publishers there say, but have yet to disrupt magazine production."

"God bless you!" wrote Steve Almond's editor Julia Cheiffetz to me, after we ran a long excerpt from Steve's new essay collection, effectively shoving the book into the consciousness of at least the 6,966 readers who clicked on the post and who may not have previously known of its existence. Today, Steve writes on the Huffington Post that "Until a few weeks ago, I'd never paid much attention to Gawker. I had a vague sense that they were a gossip website that had something to do with New York. Then my editor sent me a link to a post they wrote about me. As it turned out, they'd been talking shit about me for a while."

"In town for a new product launch this week, Starbucks chief executive Howard Schultz implied that New Yorkers were wholeheartedly embracing the changing character of their city. Asked just how many Starbucks locations he thinks the city can support, Schultz discussed the many emails he gets requesting new stores." Uh, yeah. If there are any New Yorkers out there who have sent Howard Schultz an e-mail asking for YET ANOTHER STARBUCKS, we want you to come down to the office this afternoon. We'd like to a) verify that you really exist and b) stab you in the genitals with a rusty hacksaw. [AMNY]

Here's Miss Teen USA contestant Lauren Caitlin Upton answering a politically-charged question about American's inability to locate their own country on a map. Her answer more or less directly proves the validity of the question. South Carolinians must be beaming with pride right now!

"But in the present climate, asking that presidential candidates support same-sex marriage—while serving an important moral purpose—demands a significant political sacrifice. At most, gays should expect a president to act as a bulwark against congressional attempts to limit their rights and to support congressional attempts to defend those rights." [TNR]

"A New Zealand couple is looking to call their newborn son Superman—but only because their chosen name of 4Real has been rejected by the government registry." [Reuters]

What kind of good ideas are coming out of the Yearly Kos convention? Here's one!

Shortly before Parker Posey walked by our office and left her almost full iced coffee on our stoop, this guy pulled up in his Porsche Carrera convertible. Since he was revving the engine for five minutes straight, we went outside to tell him to shut up and that some people don't have summer Fridays and are still trying to work. But then we saw that he had the latest issue of On Montauk in the back seat and then we noticed his girlfriend's ankle tattoo.

Next time you try to walk through Union Square without getting hit by some of the world's most inept skateboarders, we want you to remember this clip from "The Today Show." You'll probably still get knocked over, but it'll ease the sting a little. FUN SIDE NOTE: You will be able to tell when each person in your office views this clip by the sharp intake of breath, followed by a shouted "Dude!" or something similar.

So Alyssa Shelasky's old Glamour blog "Alyssacentric" is now being written by a dude who says things like "You know how they say you live and learn? Well, the same be could be said about loving—you love and you learn." And, like ants whose queen just got squished under the sole of someone's Havaiana, the commenters are scrambling around bumping into things and making little high-pitched squeaks of pain. "She's been cheating on us for MONTHS!" ejaculates workoffiction, while LORIKNOWS responds with a more tempered, "Speechless.. kind of. At least we get to see what she's up too [sic]." But Rubykix7's comment is perhaps the most poignant: "I'm sad. I wrote her an e-mail on myspace and she didn't respond. Guess she's too busy." You know, sometimes, Rubykix7, you love and you learn.

You know who needs help? The sad sacks who divulge their personal details in the Times' Sunday Styles section each weekend. It makes sense to read their musings as desperate pleas for help and advice, right? We don't know why we didn't think of this before! (Pot.)

Self-obsessed parents-to-be have one more thing to worry about: What to name the little testament to themselves once Mommy poops it out. You don't want your little angel to be like every other Madison in her class. The solution? Baby-naming consultants.

Richard Schickel, who's been the Time film critic since before most of us here were born, is also kind of a muttonhead! He went postal in Sunday's LA Times on the op-ed pages and denounced the (largely imagined) rise of amateur critics, and worse, the bloggers. Eek!

A front-page article on Monday about the resurging residential real estate market in parts of New York City misstated the surname of a woman who has not been able to find a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan for less than $750,000. She is Katalin Total Fucking Incompetent Muttonhead Who Isn't Bright Enough To Look For An Apartment Without A Minder And Is Probably Someone Who Should Be Forced To Move To Brooklyn So The Rest Of Us Don't Have To Think About Her Again, not Katalin Shavely. (Go to Article)