Maybe It's Time For the Ed McMahon Sex Tape: Really, it seems like the only way out for the 85-year-old legend now that even Merv Griffin's ghost is coming around looking for payback. The late mogul's company filed suit recently to reclaim $100,000 that Griffin supposedly loaned to McMahon in 2005; the Griffin Group Inc. claims he still owes every cent (plus interest and attorney fees). It hardly seems fair under the circumstances, in which McMahon is reduced to rapping for his supper and the Griffin estate earns a few thousand dollars every time the Jeopardy! theme is so much as hummed, but business is business. All options are on the table, and let's face it: If McMahon were a midget, this all all would have been settled a long time ago. [AP]

We probably felt the same way that you did upon reading this headline from USAToday.com: Could Jerry Lewis, America's Clown Prince and host of countless muscular dystrophy telethons, have possibly uttered such callous words about recently departed friend and contemporary Merv Griffin? Well, yes—yes he did, but as in all headline-grabbing celebrity soundbites, context is everything, and what might have come off like the equivalent of fellow prostate cancer sufferer Lewis taking an intermittent pee on Griffin's freshly filled grave was instead part of a larger interview, airing tomorrow on Entertainment Tonight, in which Lewis expressed frustration that Griffin didn't immediately seek the medical care he required to beat the stubborn disease.

· You think the insanity outside Kitson was an accident? Here's 10 reasons why Paris Hilton is a business genius.
· Today's star-studded Merv Griffin funeral featured best fag-hag Nancy Reagan (in—gasp!—white), and a Seacrest-in-mourning, working the same fierce sunglasses as his blonde companion.
· Join the crusade to halt filming downtown, possibly saving Nicole Kidman from untold injury.
· We forget: Are The Buzzcocks playing the Giant Juiced Dong stage or the Glistening Tube stage?
· And finally, enjoy this all-kitten reenactment of poorly received Body Snatchers remake, The Invasion.

It's truly a day for the velvet-bound history books, for not one, but three entertainment giants harboring some of the worst-kept secrets in showbiz have been thrust from their anally-arranged, glass-doored closets. First, in a eulogy appearing in today's THR (it's on pg. 9, but has gone missing from the website—screengrab of the blog version here), Ray Richmond matter-of-factly discusses Merv Griffin's sexuality:

· Offering a tour of the photos lining his office walls, Griffin once indicated he was on a nickname-only basis with the greatest civil rights crusader of our time: "Yes, here I am with John Kennedy...And here I am with Frank Sinatra...And here's Elizabeth Taylor...And Marty King..." [pastdeadline.com]
· The numbers you're probably wondering about: $1.6 billion, one son, two grandchildren. [LAT]
· Merv composed the Jeopardy theme music himself, which he banged out on his piano in less than 30 minutes— a melody he anticipated earned him somewhere between $70-$80 million, or what Merv dismissively referred to as "cabana boy tip money." [National Post]

We can't remember who it was now, but a couple years back some notable figure passed away. We were somewhat distressed about it, and extolled the great man: his struggles, his victories, the accomplishments that made up the story of his life. Our friend leaned over, looked at us casually, and said, "And now he's dead." Which, while dismissive and somewhat disrespectful, speaks to the ultimate truth: No matter how much one manages to attain in one's life, be it financial success, family happiness, the creation and retention of enriching, lifelong friendships, it all ends with a trip to the tomb. No one (save perhaps Sumner Redstone) can escape death's chilly embrace. So while it's certainly proper to remember those that have passed on and take stock of their achievements, one must ultimately recall that, in the end, they die like everyone else, and to elevate one person over another for experiencing something so utterly universal is somehow arbitrary and diminishing to those who are considered less "valuable" or "interesting." It's important to keep a certain detachment when it comes to the passing of a celebrity; are they are more worthy of grief than someone less celebrated? All that being said, even we think this TMZ "obituary" for Merv Griffin, pictured here, is more than a little tacky. (Even the majority of TMZ's commenters agree, and they're not exactly paragons of good taste—or good typing, for that matter.) For Christ's sake, show a little class.