Earlier this week we gave you a brief history of Rob Shuter, the shameless former celebrity flack whose various transgressions have reduced him to editing OK! Magazine. That post brought back some memories for Michael Lucas, famous gay porn performer and impresario (pictured, on the left). According to Lucas, he once snubbed Shuter's request for love, which sparked a neverending campaign by the uberflack to exact his revenge! Worst of all, Lucas says, Shuter even used poor supermodel Naomi Campbell for his own nefarious ends. Lucas' full, telling letter is below.

As the various, cretinous cast members of The Hills took to David Letterman's couch in recent weeks, more than a few of us were left wondering how the entertainment landscape had so quickly devolved from the days when the effortlessly charming and talented likes of Teri Garr would grace his stage—the two trading bon mots and flirting shamelessly, with Paul Shaffer providing a suitably white-funkified musical backdrop to the fizzy proceedings. They say you can't capture lightning in a bottle twice (do they say that? Or are we mixing our metaphors? Where were we? Oh right, Dave and Teri), but you also can't deny chemistry, and it was on abundant display when the two were reunited last night. They're grayer now, and slower—Dave touchingly guided Teri, who is suffering from MS, to her chair—but you can't deny the spark is still there. As Letterman stuck to his, "Did you do it with Elvis?"-line of questioning, Garr shot down the long-standing rumors that the two had once engaged in naked-pretzel antics themselves. But after the jump, we'd invite you to compare and contrast a classic pairing from 1986, in which an amorous Dave opens with, "I'd like to get a can of Windex and go to work." Suddenly, his preoccupation with Elvis makes sense, in a vicarious-thrills-seeking way. It's good to be The King.

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by the loyal readers of Defamer. We'd like to remind you that this feature is powered by you, so if you want to see more installments of PrivacyWatch, then all you've got to do is to send us your sightings. Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line so we don't lose them) and tell everyone about the time you saw Britney Spears huffing smokes while eating poolside chicken fingers.

As we told you Monday, one sad editrix of celebrity gossip sheet thinks her profession is living on borrowed time. It's one big void out there, the canvas is blank, there is no news. And it's not just low culture. The zeitgeist at large seems to be suffering from tired blood (maybe too much vital energy spent looking at mobile porn?). Nicholson Baker's Human Smoke was the most noteworthy book to be published so far this year, and it argued that World War II wasn't worth fighting. World War II. That's not even counterintuitive in a fun Slate-y kind of way. As for the election, we're in a massive lull until at least Labor Day, barring Israel's surgical strike on Natanz, which happened yesterday while you were updating your Tumblr page. The arts? The worst film of the year, M. Night Shyamalan's The Happening, is (tellingly) about about an epidemic that causes inanition followed by suicide. The Jewish Museum's exhibiting action painting at a time of supreme lassitude. Elsewhere the herd of independent minds has taken a collective nap: the red siren that blares in Matt Drudge's head has been as silent as the one in James Wolcott's. So what's going on?

Comedian's comedian and actor Louis C.K. was spotted by a paparazzi photographer while out in New York City. C.K. asked for the real reason why the photographer was taking a picture of him. The photographer thought for a minute and debated between saying something polite ("Hey, I loved you in that one show!") or being honest. The photographer ended up going the honest route and told C.K. that he had heard a scoop that Lance Armstrong and Kate Hudson were in the adjacent area and that he just wanted to make sure his camera's focus was still working. C.K. nodded and said, "Well, just don't let Dane Cook steal this bit from me and you, okay?"

If you are one of the millions of Match Game fans who long to return to those halcyon days when life was a breezy '70s cocktail-party-cum-game show—a double-tiered ping pong match of witty innuendo deftly presided over by a comforting, avuncular presence—well, then TBS's proposed update might let you down. If, however, you'd like to see Sarah Silverman respond to the set-up, "Melodical Murray is a human musical instrument; he makes music by blowing his...blank," with the answer, "BIG BLACK COCK"—then maybe this show is for you!

Thanks this week go to AT&T, Honda Fit, Jet Blue, MGM Grand Foxwoods, Three Olives and Windows Live Search. If you would like to join this esteemed group of Defamer advertisers, all of the requisite information can be found here.

Like the heady mix of pride and elation that fills you as you witness your own flesh-and-blood pulling themselves up by their lonesomes to take their first wobbly steps across the living room floor, witnessing some of your favorite stars' first times on the red carpet—as compiled in this Us Weekly gallery—is an experience worth savoring. Pictured above, writer's room taskmistress Katherine Heigl presents herself to the world at the 2000 premiere for The Beach in an ensemble that makes several endearing first-timer mistakes: 1. At this early point in your career, showing anything more than 3/4 inch of leg runs the risk of making you look trampy. 2. Flashbulbs' x-ray effect often reveal more about your foundation garments than you'd like to the world to know. Always match your bra to your dark-chocolate turtleneck, lest you want the world to mistakenly assume you're a Mormon. 3. The movie's about a tropical Eden in Thailand, not what happens when your trying-to-be-hip mom is convinced by a Barneys saleswoman that "Fall is all about the Annie Oakley look." Dress theme-appropriately.

On a weekend when the wholesome American Girl doll "character" movement rocks its pre-pubescent influence at the box office for the first time, a loyal reader points us to a bit of perverse toy revisionism for the rest of us. Behold, in recognition of the Hitchcock film's 45th anniversary, The Birds Barbie:

[Photo Credit: Getty Images]

Seriously, there is such a thing as anti-comedy — the type of willful unfunniness we've been gleaning from every trailer, teaser and report emerging from the cultural black hole that is The Love Guru. Not that we require his validation, but the concept appeared again today in the highest-profile forum yet: A.O. Scott's slightly displeased NY Times review:

When not proposing Entourage cameos to some of the world's greatest hell-to-the-divas, Jeremy Piven can often be found sidling up to one of our city's endlessly replenishable starlets with a patented ice-breaker ("So, have you been to India?"). The desired result is frequently achieved, and within minutes the two are zipping off in a hydrogen-powered Bentley to his place for a better look at his dhoti collection. Sometimes, however, Piven shoots a little too high, and his hottie-air balloon comes crashing down to the ground. Take, for example, a recent run-in with America's #1 fanboy-bait-object:

Welcome to another edition of Defamer Attractions, your regular guide to what's new, noteworthy and/or nightmarish this week at the movies. Today we hold our noses for the aromatic opening-weekend duel of Get Smart and The Love Guru, crack open the L.A. Film Festival catalog for a bit of a desperately needed counterprogramming, and handpick a few fine new DVD's for the agoraphobes among us. As always, our opinions are our own, but as long as they don't involve Manoj Night Shyamalan's box-office viability, they're also without peer.

· Wow—the backdoor compliments were really flying when Jane Krakowski took Letterman's couch last night, but luckily most of them flew over the talk show host's head. [Late Show]
· Behold: Today's unveiling of the massive Dave Beckham underwear ad on a San Francisco Macy's. If you think those bloodcurdling sounds at the beginning are bad, just wait until his Volkswagen-sized package is revealed. [YouTube]
· Speaking of which, we hear Will Smith has a similarly proportioned super-endowment in his new movie. [thelondonpaper.com]
· Robert Davis of Paste magazine and Sue Pierman of The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel are about to become the laughingstock of the terrible-Mike-Myers-movie-critiquing field. [Rotten Tomatoes]
·And finally: What the fuck is Mario Lopez's problem? No—like seriously. What is up with this dude? [Just Jared]

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences hopes you enjoyed the Enchanted three-fer nominated for last year's Best Song Oscar, because that was the last time a single film will receive more than two song nods in any given season — even if they're virtually guaranteed to lose against upstart Irish indies and/or pimp anthems. A rule change implemented Tuesday night says "there is no limit to the number of songs that may be submitted from a given film," but only two will get the dog-and-pony-show treatment on the Oscar telecast, thus saving the likes Amy Adams the indignity of going "stage commando" during their production numbers.

Finally, after years of thinking good girl Anne Hathaway's sleazy (possibly ex!) boyfriend was the K. Fed to her Britney (or is it the other way around?), the formerly controversy-free actress is beginning to show the most subtle of signs that all is not fairy dust and rainbows in her world. In this clip from today's View, resident bitch-in-benevolent-clothing Elisabeth Hasselbeck asked how Anne got along with the more frequent tabloid cover flier Kate Hudson on the set of this fall's Bride Wars. And after witnessing the normally cool under pressure Hathaway struggle to grit her Chicklet teeth and pretend all was peachy keen between the two leading ladies, we finally got some visual confirmation of the rumors of tension between Hathaway and Hudson that we've been hearing about for months. Watch Anne's true colors fly after the jump.

A Defamer operative sends disturbing word from the Chicago set of Michael Mann's Depp-as-Dillinger drama Public Enemies, where assistant best boy trainees and part-time bagel replenishers are now jockeying for a spot at the film's unusually exclusive wrap-party for "deserving crewmembers." We hear the 40-work-day minimum isn't stopping some serious last-minute politicking with the unit production manager and even with Mann himself, whose loyalty to well-connected extras has nothing on his famous weakness for sheepish, sad-eyed honey wagon drivers.

If Charlie Kaufman were approached to reignite the long-stalled career of Belgian action hero and gameshow-erection-haver Jean-Claude Van Damme, it might come off a lot like J.C.V.D.. In it, he's called upon to play a loose version of his own, frequently maligned persona—blow-Hoovering warts and all—and the turn has been described as everything from "subtle, funny, and capable of self-deprecation" to "not only touching, but troubling and moving too." And those are quotes from real critics—not Van Damme himself! We've included a pivotal scene above, in which real J.C. plays movie-J.C., discussing the factual accuracy of the character of movie-within-a-movie J.C. on the set of a J.C. biopic. Not mindfucked enough yet? Well, what if we told you that a secret portal at the back of the ladies sportswear department of Les Galeries Lafayette allows the traveler to view the world through Van Damme's eyes, before being unceremoniously dumped somewhere along the Port of Antwerp? (Just kidding. We don't want to see that end up on some J.C.V.D. synopsis on IMDb.)

We're not sure how many impatient fans it takes to make something "long-awaited," but we'll give Lionsgate's Angelina Jolie-starring adaptation of Atlas Shrugged the benefit of the doubt — especially now that the attached director Vadim Perelman has officially left Objectivist headquarters:

One of the only good things to come out of this year's The Other Boleyn Girl was a tough lesson in public relations for young actresses. As leading ladies Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson took their quasi-lesbian chic press tour from S&M magazine covers to poufy-lipped faux-kisses on red carpets, the period piece will sadly be remembered only for those posters shoving Scarlett’s mushy cleavage in America’s collective face. But the British version of Nat/ScarJo is still trying ever so hard to emulate the strategy, getting cheeky at film festivals, hugging one another just this shy of arousingly, and yes, even copying the original pair’s near-miss-kiss in public. Some visual examples, and why this admittedly less voluptuous and curvy duo may succeed where the corset-strapped Boleyns failed, after the jump.