We'd previously teased today's El Coyote throwdown between "Yes on 8"-donating manager Marjorie Chrisoffersen and a crowd of gays hungry not for quesadillas but for vengeance; now, word has come out about the confrontation, and it sounds like things went not so well. The blog Shut Up! I Know! has a first-person account:

· The Entrance Band, The Growlers, and Golden Animals at SPACELAND, The (International) Noise Conspiracy are at El Cid, Lupe Fiasco at Club Nokia. · The 40th anniversary of the legendary Monkees' movie Head calls for a brand-new 35mm print screening at The Egyptian. Amply manboobed Monkee Davy Jones and bandmate Peter Tork will be in attendance for a Q&A! · OK, not all Canadians are maniacs: It's Super 8 Film Nite: The Project8 Collective at Echo Park Film Center. "A group of small-format filmmakers with an interest in developing our local Vancouver film community by presenting an alternative to the mainstream narrative production industry."

While we think this town is probably big enough for both of us, we admit that the right-wing outlet Newsmax spooks us a little with its encroaching "celebrity heathen" beat. The coverage is perhaps best exemplified today by the feature "Hollywood's Top 10 Atheists," a bracing survey of Angelina Jolie, Keanu Reeves, Woody Allen and few other wretched infidels whose names might even surprise you.Take Bruce Willis for example (whose "conservative credentials often are exaggerated," according to the author), Ian McKellen ("Tom Hanks' co-star in The Da Vinci Code," we're reminded) and Jodie Foster, who is, of course, a lesbian and thus thoroughly godless by default. Warren Buffett and Bill Gates are outed as agnostics, meanwhile, and the feature ends with the obligatory bone-throw in the direction of God-fearing GOP actor emeritus Jon Voight. Like you, we wondered what the real Newsmax angle might be here — if maybe they really are turning a new celeb leaf, or if this was Plan B after "Hollywood's 10 Jewishest Jews" simply proved too unwieldy a subject to whittle down on deadline. But after a second, closer, read, we think we get it: Straight-up bitterness. And not of the post-election variety either, but something far more ingrained: "You'd think hollywood stars would drop to their knees every day to give thanks for their fame, fortune, and beauty," the author notes. Maybe so, but his kind are technically responsible for The Love Guru, so let's just call it even for now, OK?

As though it wasn't bad enough that Raffaello Follieri's ex, Anne Hathaway, is now being wooed by some common actor, the Vatican-swindling Follieri has been forced to deal with another unpleasant surprise: prison is totally gross! Currently serving out a four-and-a-half-year sentence devoid of flashbulbs and fast cars paid for with Becoming Jane money, Follieri's lawyer is now attempting to get the con man moved to someplace a little more minimum security. Marvel at Follieri's sad, sad description of prison life:

You'll have to forgive us for being a little too preoccupied with events going on in our own backyards to notice what's been going on lately up in America's tuque, Canada. Let's see: last we checked in, a Chinese immigrant on a Greyhound bus that boarded in Edmonton had decapitated and cannibalized another passenger on a desolate stretch of highway—definitely one of those instances where all the universal health care in the world isn't really going to do much good. Now comes news of a Dexter-obsessed, suspected killer living in the same bloodcicle wasteland, named Mark Andrew Twitchell.Some background: An Edmonton local named Johnny Brian Altinger went mysteriously missing early in October after setting up an internet date with a woman he had never met. Cops seized a screenplay by filmmaker Twitchell in which a male killer who works in a forensics unit (just like Dex) lures "a cheating husband to his death through an Internet dating scam in which he pretends to be a woman." In the story, the husband is decapitated with a power saw. Twitchell was arrested on Halloween night, on suspicion of having enacted out his murderous fantasies on Altinger in his garage (pictured). Told of the development, Dexter EP Melissa Rosenberg admitted the gruesome crime confirmed her worst, "our lovable leading serial killer has finally reaped what he's sown!" fears:

David Fincher Practices His Oscar Speech: "It was like getting my first rim job," the director reportedly explained Monday night when asked about his experience making Benjamin Button. Somewhere on the Paramount lot, meanwhile, Fincher champion and big spender Brad Grey raced to brush a funny taste out of his mouth. [The Hot Blog]

Supporters of Proposition 8 have something of a homophobic patron saint in Anita Bryant, the former beauty queen/orange juice-spokeswoman whose spunky brand of hatred is revived for a new generation in the upcoming Milk. Archival footage features some of her more winning moments ("If gays are granted rights, next we'll have to give rights to prostitutes and to people who sleep with St. Bernards and to nailbiters" is in there somewhere) from the campaign for Proposition 6, which in 1978 would have allowed for the firing of openly gay public school teachers. But that was then, we're hearing — Anita Bryant is saved! (Sort of.)Marc Malkin called up Bryant's ministry in Oklahoma to see what the 68-year-old firebrand thought of Gus Van Sant's new film. A man identifying himself as her second husband, Charlie Dry, commenced stonewalling against the gossip's inquiries, though we think we spot a glimmer of hope between the grumpy Bible-Belt lines:

Happy Travails: When the deeply unlikely sequel to Happiness was announced, the only thing more outlandish than its existence was a cast including Paul Reubens, Emma Thompson, and Demi Moore. Now, Indiewire is reporting that only Reubens remains in the Todd Solondz film, though Paris Hilton has come aboard. Same diff! There's also this first, official summary:

Duck! It's Channing Tatum's Balls! True, it's not likely to be any deeper than the first two, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be excited about Step Up 3D— which from the poster involves an intercontinental love story between two star-crossed dancers from either side of the tracks who keep flinging their HANDS! and FEET! into your face. We're so there. Even though 3D never works on us and gives us a headache. We're there. [Kid Cobra]

The life of an Arrested Development fan is not an easy one. It's ongoing, angina-flaring dice game of will they or won't they—have first-cousin sex? Get a hand-transplant? Get a fourth-season renewal? Or, most recently, make an AD movie. One day it's yes, the next day it's no. That last one was an ouch, as Michael Cera relayed the news via a 25-second rumor-dousing call. (Sweet and sensitive our ass.) But wait—wipe those tears away, for Jeffrey Tambor—quite possibly the most wonderful Bluth of all!—says the movie. Is. Back. ON!. Collider.com reports:

Hollywood PrivacyWatch: 11/10 — My girlfriend and I were sitting diagonally from MATTHEW MODINE on the 9pm JetBlue flight from Burbank to JFK. He was sitting in the shitty seats in front of the exit row, which do not recline. The upgrade to the "Even more leg room" seats run $40, guess times are tough for Matthew or he decided to make the trip to NYC last minute. My girlfriend and I were sitting there for a good portion of the flight trying to remember what movie he was in, all I came up with was Vision Quest and that movie with Randy Quaid and Paul Reiser, which now I know is called Bye Bye Love thanks to IMDB. [Hollywood PrivacyWatch is written by and for Defamer readers; send your sightings to tips@defamer.com.]

Jean-Claude Van Damme has always expressed himself by using the, how you say, the kicking? The kicking and the doing the splits? But now that he has the weirdly thoughtful meta-meditation JCVD in the offing, the Muscles from Brussels has been making the American press rounds, attempting to beat the English language into submission like it was Dolph Lundgren's high-cheekboned, Aryan face. We've already enjoyed the actor's "fruit-opening" secret to acting, but let's all marinate in his latest, greatest interview (with BlackBook) and attempt to figure out just what the hell he's saying. Join us, won't you?

The identity of the Paula Abdul obsessive found dead in a car outside Abdul's home last night has been revealed to be Paula Goodspeed, who Idol-watchers might recall as being the contestant who showed off a portfolio of "life-sized Paula drawings" and miscellaneous Paulapernalia. (Video after the jump.) She was then led before a judging tribunal that included her hero—certainly not an easy feat—before launching into a brain-scrambling rendition of "Proud Mary" that elicited predictable humiliation from Simon Cowell over "all the metal in her mouth." Following that was a disturbing interview (editors underscored it with a horror movie soundtrack) in which Goodspeed pledges that, "It's not over. I'm not just going to step singing just because you don't like my voice."

· Ridley Scott has attached himself to Hasbro-Universal's movie adaptation of Monopoly—he hopes to give it a "a futuristic sheen along the lines of his iconic 'Blade Runner.'" Hmmm...Keanu for Mr. Monopoly? And who'll play this Community Chest lady? [THR] · A Jerry Garcia biopic focusing on his early life is in development. We'll assume it begins with the formative wood-chopping accident that took his middle finger at age 4. (What? We experimented with Deadheaddom in college.) [THR] · HBO is developing a comedy pilot called The Review, set "at a New York literary magazine in the immediate aftermath of Black Monday in 1987." The Iran-Contra affair is suddenly cool again, in that detached, period, Mad Men kind of way. [THR] After the jump: Assess Jay Leno and John McCain unmistakable sexual chemistry!· Jesus Christ will attempt to stop Samuel L. Jackson from detonating London in the espionage thriller Blown. Thanks for making the TomKat Theater version so easy to title, guys. [THR] · John McCain's Tonight Show appearance gave the show its best Tuesday night ratings since February 2007, though the Senator's political career is now in question after he engaged in questionable rolling-pin-flouring activities with the host. [THR]

Now that Daniel Craig's second turn as James Bond has been threatened by critics, the Communist party, and a diaper-craving Paul Haggis, it almost seems unfair to keep piling on. However, nobody's told 81-year-old Roger Moore to hold his tongue, and the former 007 (perhaps peeved that his general standing as "second-best Bond" is in danger of being usurped by Craig) has weighed in with his thoughts on the franchise's direction to Britain's Daily Mail:

After a brief, thrilling lapse into the parallel universe of stars attacked by their own security detail, we're kind of relieved today to see the restoration of celeb-on-paparazzo violence. And few do it like Brad Garrett, a pap-attacker from way back who last night staged a stunning return to form outside Dan Tana's. TMZ's record of the altercation suggests Garrett was provoked, and unless the taunts "He's just a tall faggot, anyway," and "Pussy" were defanged at some recent historical moment we overlooked, we think we'd tend to agree.Either way, criminal charges may be forthcoming for Garrett, whose fierce right jab concludes with the most satisfying crunch you'll hear this side of your lunch hour. We can't say the same for Garrett's shrill, "Come on" supposedly meant to entice his aggressor into actual fisticuffs, but that's what the break between rounds is for, we guess. Expect his famous, full-throated baritone to mutter much more insistently when the fight resumes next spring on a red carpet to be determined.

As we've learned from his last big screen effort, Sacha Baron Cohen employs a wide variety of low-tech tricks to sell his comedy illusions. For example, to create those Borat Polaroids in which his face grazed his teenage son's exposed manhood, a gay porn star was hired who looked young enough to be the Kazakh's spawn. But with follow-up Bruno, the stakes and degree of technical difficulty have upped considerably.No longer will audiences be satisfied with the suggestive flopping around of a fist-shaped dildo and post-gay-pride-parade communal showers. A movie about a gay Austrian fashionista simply demands unobstructed man-on-man-on-man penetration—and Cohen is determined to deliver on every front. And back. And daisychaining where necessary. NY Daily News reports, using our fake title yet again:

He may require enlightening in matters of gay-community relations, but no one can accuse Mickey Rourke of anything less than slavish devotion to canine-rights causes. We hear the Oscar hopeful took his beloved free-range chihuahua Loki to the Four Seasons last week, where an eagle-eyed, bat-eared Defamer operative caught what may be the tenderest interspecies mating ritual ever witnessed in the Hollywood wild:

A bizarre discovery turned up outside America Idol tastemaker Paula Abdul's home last night: a dead body propped over in a car. Even more confusing was that the body belonged not to the klonopin chip brownie-loving singer/choreographer/karoake-feedback-deliverer herself, but rather a rabid Abdul fan, whose car bore a vanity license plate reading "ABL LV," ("4VR URGL" had already been taken) and Paula-scented air-fresheners dangling from the rear-view mirror. More details follow after the jump:

· Yes, that's essentially what happened last night—and if only that were the grossest moment. Enjoy! [Thanks to BestWeekEver.tv for the montage.] · Here's the trailer for Disney's Race to Witch Mountain starring Dwayne Johnson. For contrast, here's the original, before Tia and Tony sold their product placement souls with all that Vegas stuff and MacBook levitations. · Because it's just been that kind of day for Jennifer Aniston to get some festering stuff out into the open, she'd also like the world to know that she bears John Mayer no ill-will whatsoever for his rambling breakup monologue outside a NYC gym. · Mickey Rourke issued an apology over his comment to a paparazzo, "Tell that faggot who wrote all that shit in the paper I'd like to break his fucking legs." Said Rourke, "I want to sincerely apologize for the derogatory word I used. It was insensitive and inappropriate of me and I am deeply sorry that I may have offended anyone. What I should have said is, 'Tell that faggot who wrote all those falsehoods in the paper I'd like to break his misleading legs.' There. That's much better." · Lance Bass is having a hard time getting rid of his giant Beverly Hills home, with a gym large enough for a dozen well-muscled circuit studs to really stretch out their quads and gluts. Knock a couple more inches off it, Lance. You'll unload it eventually.