After all our trouble wrangling up moving boxes and change-of-address forms, Stephen Baldwin has officially reversed his decision to relocate to Canada. Reports this morning say that the bitter Republican convert was just joking about that pre-election pledge to head north in the instance of a Barack Obama victory, adding that the whole mess amounted to less a broken promise than yet another grave misunderstanding by humorless liberals. Whoops! Now we're told he even likes Obama:"The liberal Democrats who didn't get that I was joking need to lighten up," the born-again Christian told Page Six. "Obama is obviously talented and intelligent, and I have great respect for the man. He's got my full support, and I'm gonna be praying for him and his administration." Oh. Our bad, we guess, but let there be no mistaking his regard for the gays, whom he still loathes enough to submit to a Billy Ray Cyrus ass-tattoo if/when same-sex marriage is legalized nationwide. Not much of a concession considering his recent history, but we'll launch a Facebook club on its behalf just in case. Anything to help the cause!

· You know, the new youth-skewed and sexed-up Star Trek does seem uncomfortably well-suited for the 90210 market. We bet there's even a part for Tori Spelling! [Thanks, Metroville] · Sacha Baron Cohen has a brother: Erran Baron Cohen. And Erran Baron Cohen has a record: Songs in the Key of Hanukkah. Want to know more? Oh. Well here's the link anyway. · We don't know what Peter Bart is complaining about: Variety has plenty of Oscar consideration ads! They just happen to be two years old. · Cause we're basically a sucker for Videogum's Gabriel Delahaye, here's a video about making the perfect fauxhawk or something. · Glad to see our fake Bruno title is alive and well Down Under. It. Won't. Die. · Speaking of Australia—like, no offense, but can't you get some less freakish-looking celebrities for your movie premieres?

It's a mixed bag tonight, and despite what we learned from last night's Silverman-Rose man-grapple, the world of television programming still holds many delightful mysteries, from androgynous best friend candidates to wolf children. WATCH Paris Hilton's My New BFF [10 PM, MTV] - This week Paris invites some BFF rejects back to makeover the remaining contestants before they strut it at a fashion show. Later the girls try to raise money using only a bucket and a cardboard cutout of Paris. Fingers crossed that Onch is one of the returning airheads.

It's true: Soap Opera Digest reports that Deidre Hall, who's played Days of Our Lives's Dr. Marlena Evans for 32, um, colorful years, has been let go along with longtime screen partner Drake Hogestyn, aka John Black. Deidre was your run-of-the-mill soap diva until insane genius writer/producer James E. Reilly (himself a resent casualty of a more permanent, God-mandated downsizing) took over and incorporated Satan-rape into the proceedings. In Marlena's memory, we revisit the classic Days exorcism scene, featuring Hogestyn as the vomit-splattered Man of God sent to drive out the ratings-goosing demons. It might be daytime TV, but this is some effectively scary shit—particularly when she starts stabbing her privates with an Itty Bitty Book Light. Video after the jump.

CSI: Diddy. CBS announced today that Sean Combs has agreed to a two-episode guest-starring stint on CSI: Miami, in which the versatile rapper/mogul/actor "will portray a prosecutor who doesn't get along with police Lt. Horatio Caine, played by David Caruso." Little else was disclosed about his appearance beyond a note that Diddy's episodes will air in mid-winter before his character is vanquished in short order in a dramatic, best-of-five, shades-shedding duel with Caruso. [AP]

The Frigid 50 Runs Cold. We used to look forward to Film Threat's annual Frigid 50—their "line-up of the least-powerful, least-inspiring, least-intriguing people in Hollywood"—but a quick perusal of this year's countdown led us to wonder if the list itself hasn't become the nippily uninspired equivalent of shrunken wizard naughties. It tops out with a desperate cry for publicity by naming Heath Ledger Hollywood's most frigid—he's dead! Do you see how outrageous a claim that is?!—but it's the other occupants of the top ten that leave us even colder. Carmen Electra? Star Wars? Pacino and DeNiro in separate entries? This list's dead on arrival. Shoulda been you, Heigl. Oh wait—you're there too, quite predictably, at #3. [Film Threat]

The lauded, mishandled film Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired saw its high Oscar hopes perish Monday when the Academy announced its shortlist of candidates for this year's Best Documentary Feature prize. It joined other conspicuous snubs including the year's top-grossing doc Religulous and the follow-up doc from last year's winner Alex Gibney. But there's a bit of extra sting afflicting Wanted and Desired, which compellingly challenged Polanski's 1978 rape conviction and eventual exile in Paris and was a Sundance darling before HBO acquired it for broadcast last summer. As you might recall, that could have gone better — both then and now.The network's attempt to qualify the film for Oscar consideration — by burying it for a week in the farthest reaches of L.A. and Manhattan — denied it the "true release" Academy voters are fond of; a later theatrical run grossed less than $60,000 and hastened its fade from Oscar consideration. Religulous pulled the same stunt prior to premiering at Toronto in September; it fared better with Lionsgate behind it, earning $12.5 million since its release Oct. 1. But that's about all the gold it'll get. On the bright side, Werner Herzog is a step closer to his first Oscar nomination; the Bavarian maverick was shortlisted for his quirky Antarctic adventure Encounters at the End of the World. Any fan of his jilted 2005 classic Grizzly Man will agree justice delayed remains justice denied, but every bit helps. He'll face old pal and '04 winner Errol Morris, whose Iraq doc Standard Operating Procedure was shortlisted as well and whose vying against Herzog for an Oscar is itself the surreal, cerebral stuff of a feature-length doc in the making. Or at least we hope so; those guys film everything.

We're not going to spill any digital ink describing Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg as unlikely compadres. After all, if you can't see how these two herb-aficionado ex-cons fit snuggly into the same gangsta pod—both enjoying nothing more than kicking back after a long day of baking and wreath-construction with a blunt the size of a corncob and getting fucked up for real in this bitch—then you probably don't deserve to be here. On today's Martha, Snoop popped by. Martha introduced him by reading aloud her many correspondences from the hip-hop titan:· "Hello Martha. It's Snoop Dogg. What did you do? Hit me back when you get a moment. Stay sweet." · "Hey, M.S. It's Snoop Dogg says hi and seein' how you doing. Hollah back. Boo." · "I would love to hang out with you whenever time permits. I dig your style, M.S. For real, for real. So hit me back when you are free for me. Be sweet and stay [blank blank]. Yours truly, Snoop Dogg." They then moved on to that time-tested gangsta dick-measuring contest known as comparing posses—his is more physically intimidating, but hers are far better at frothing egg whites—before diving into the potato-mashing task at hand. HuffPo has the video.

Reality Bites: We've been agitating for a while to get an image of Winona Ryder donning her Vulcan ears as Spock's mom for J.J. Abrams's new film Star Trek: Underwear, and thanks to /film's helpful selection of big still frames from the trailer, we got what we wanted — almost. Yes, that's the first image of Ryder in character, but the "babuschka chic" look covers her...wait, what's that? Spock's mom is human, not Vulcan? Then we have no earthly explanation for how the 37-year-old Ryder apparently popped out Spock's portrayer, 31-year-old Zachary Quinto, at age six. [/film]

Where the Wild Things Are director Spike Jonze recently gave his most expansive interview yet about his troubled, tortured, presumed-dead and reanimated fantasy epic, which Warner Bros. is now committed to opening Oct. 19, 2009. And while light-treading Jonze makes his biggest statement about the delay by offering virtually no statement at all, a teasing philosophical aside about his young star Max Records summarizes pretty much all you need to know about Jonze v. Warners:

Naturally, we at Defamer think the world of Emma Thompson — after all, who doesn't? (Don't answer that, Branagh.) Still, we didn't expect much from her appearance last night on Letterman; maybe some cute banter, some veddy English trilling, but certainly nothing on the level of Helen Mirren's "I'm a crazy British woman" press tour.However, Thompson immediately bucked our expectations by marching onto the set while brawling with a stuffed fox who would not let go until it got a firm disavowal of Love Actually. Sure, Thompson was most likely satirizing Letterman's previous guest, who had survived an animal attack on her own, but we prefer to think of Thompson's stunt as a singular, non sequitur bid for attention. You've won this round, Thompson. Now go do something at Ellen's dunk tank and we can really crank it up.

Finally coming out to the world as a David Archuleta fan has made a huge difference in our day to day lives—we just feel lighter and happier, as if we can finally start being the real us, instead of keeping up some ridiculous charade of what society expects a grown man living in Silver Lake to have on his iPod. But never, in our wildest Archie-loving dreams, did it ever occur to us that he might actually...know we exist.Well, apparently he does, as an interview conducted by Kathy Griffin backstage at The Bonnie Hunt Show today revealed that Archuleta read our track-by-track review of his debut CD, or at least glanced at the video of girls reacting to his real-time defeat at the top of the page. (A reader tells us Kathy also name dropped us on the air, so we feel we owe her something in return: "Your rack is banging in that Hello Kitty shirt." There.) According to Arch, he was led to the post by his bestubbled vanquisher, David Cook—suggesting Cook reads Defamer as well. Enh, whatever. That's cool, we guess. [Kathy Griffin's MySpace]

It's rare that a stage-managed pop star can break free of her chains, but all of America bore witness to a time in Britney Spears's life when a gum-smacking "Y'all!" became a Klonopin-chomping "Y'allllllll." Now, Spears appears to be back on the wagon and of sound mind, body, and hair, but she confesses in the new documentary Britney: For the Record that she almost prefers the bald ol' days:

· CBS's Monday night sitcom lineup won the night, with How I Met Your Mother earning a season high. NBC saw modest gains, too, except for Heroes, which matched last week's series low of 7.6 million. Bring back the slovenly puppeteer! His powers to enact drama-class exercises were kick ass! [THR] · The King of Kong and Four Christmases director Seth Gordon is attached to Universal's Suicide Squad, about a Kentucky Derby heist. [THR] · Cosby brought him here, now it's time for Obama to do some TV landscape changing of his own: NBC is developing a sitcom based on the book Making Friends With Black People. "It seemed like a good opportunity to strike while the iron is hot," said author Nick Adams. Sounds like a great idea. [Variety] After the jump: Whoa. Whooaa.· Warners is producing Control-Alt-Delete, a high-concept spec described as Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure meets The Matrix. [THR] · Yahoo CEO Jerry Yang is stepping down from his post. Farewell, Jerry Yang. We hardly knew ye. [Variety]

Itchiest Catch. FremantleMedia North America is looking to acquire Thom Beers' Original Prods., the makers of reality hits like Deadliest Catch and Ice Road Truckers. Said Fremantle VP of casting and talent Billy Kemp, "We're thrilled at the prospect of absorbing Thom Beers and his roster of hard-working, blue-collar manly men into the Fremantle fold." [THR]

Miley Cyrus hackers continue to represent one of the fastest-growing segments of the American tech sector, returning to haunt the Disney superstar once again over the weekend. This time around, however, the ambitious intruder bypassed Miley's generically scandalous shirt-chomping escapades in favor of spreading the much more dire gossip that she was dead. Spoiler alert: She's not! But that doesn't mean she won't seek vengeance anyway.E! saw through the stunt, blowing a golden opportunity to welcome Miley's ghost to last night's Daily 10. Instead, host Michael Yo gave the whole game away from the start, prompting a gaping incredulity that Miley's BFF Mandy soon mitigated with her urgent MySpace update: "MILEY IS OK!! Some1 hacked our youtube account." Miley is naturally shocked, and the search is on to track down the culprit, despite investigators' lengthening list of suspects with both opportunity and motive. We'd look closely at Disney ourselves; Bolt can't rocket to number one this weekend on John Travolta's goateed charm alone.

Today on The View, Whoopi Goldberg (dressed as a Navajo jewelry saleswoman from Tuba City, Arizona) continued to press the topic that has quickly proved to be the show's brand-new, post-election argument starter: same-sex marriage.Very little has changed in the hosts' positions (and Elisabeth Hasselbeck and Sherri Shepherd continue to advance the idea that gay marriage means that churches will be sued, dismantled, and rebuilt into Abercrombie & Fitch superstores), but at least Goldberg was kind enough to start things off on a new level of inanity by confessing that this "suffrage" thing that people have wanted throughout history? She's not really sure what that is! Maybe it's about suffering? Kinda sounds like it! "I guess it's when black people had to, you know, they didn't want to die for being black," Shepherd offers. Yeah, it's either that or the right to vote. You know, whichevs!

We honestly wish there was some way we could dress up NBC rock star Ben Silverman's appearance on Charlie Rose last night as something more than two talking heads—albeit enviably bone-structured heads—covering the nuts and bolts of programming strategy in a 21st century, multi-platform TV jungle. Unfortunately, there isn't. So we're instead going to do the next best thing: Write some Ben on Charlie fanfic. It's after the jump!When Ben Met Charlie Chapter One: First Impressions Charlie sat in his dressing room, staring into his mirror with a paper-towel bib tucked into his shirt collar, as Joy the makeup girl dabbed concealer beneath his eyes. "No point, Joy," he said. "Couldn't hide those puffy things with cement and a trowel." "Oh Charlie," she laughed. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're as handsome as ever." Why was he so self-conscious? He was a broadcast icon. He had interviewed heads of state, captains of industry, sports heroes and movie stars. Yet none of them disarmed him the way today's guest did—a young, handsome and charismatic network TV president whose swift rise to power he had admired from afar. A knock at the door shook Charlie back into the moment. "Come in," he said. The first thing he saw were the brows—strong and angular, and peaked towards the ends. Then he wandered slightly downward, to the nose. It was a powerful nose—a hit-sniffing nose if he had ever seen one. For a split second, he migrated up to the eyes—mesmerizing!—but quickly landed on his visitor's full, cranberry lips. They opened to speak. "Charlie—" "Ben!" Charlie said leaping up, pulling his bib out of his shirt as he threw out a hand. Ben took it in his. It felt strong, Charlie thought, and large. New, yet familiar. It was comforting. Suddenly feeling extraneous, Joy used the moment to slink out of the room. "I just wanted to say hello before the interview." "Of course, of course—please, come in. Have a—" he looked around nervously for a chair, and spotted one leaning against a shelf filled with hardcover books, most only barely thumbed through. "Have a seat! Are you a scotch man?" "Tequila, usually, but scotch will do in a pinch," Ben replied, smiling. A knock at the door alerted both men they were needed on set. Next: Chapter 2: A Game of Wits And Footsie

A cultural state of emergency was declared last night in Westwood, where those bulging queues outside the Mann Village became a full-blown tween riot commemorating Twilight's world premiere. Braver souls than we ventured into the shrieking maw of the beast, passing along word of a vampire-romance circus, black market and — God help us — an unofficial sequel announcement from the carpet. The whole bloody recap, after the jump:· The hundreds of Twilight freaks awaiting Monday's premiere became 2,500 by early evening, when studio reps at Summit Entertainment began shuffling ticketholders into the Village and the Bruin Theater down the street. The cops on the scene cited controlled but respectful chaos between hails of rubber bullets and urgent calls for bourbon reinforcements. · Meanwhile, last-minute ticket procural became a full-contact sport around town, reported THR:

We all have Facebook status updates we'd like to take back or 3am emails we shouldn't have sent, but for Courtney Love, the bar for internet humiliation is considerably higher. Luckily, our girl Court is nothing if not ambitious on the self-immolation front, and over the weekend, she topped her "Yay for Proposition 8!" fiasco with around 40 blog posts on her Myspace page that hinted at suicidal feelings and a love of clothes. In other words: nothing new, but oh, the frequency! Now, Love has posted a Perez Hilton-directed epilogue in which she renounces blogging and blames the bad reception to her Myspacepalooza on a whisper campaign started by Madonna: