· We suppose deep down we always knew Barbara Walters slept with every one of her subjects, but some kind of psychic safety-net always omitted Ellen DeGeneres from that list. [Ellen]
· The Rocker trailer features more flying cymbals to the crotch per minute than any comedy in history! [Variety]
· Among the amazing revelations in this Lou Ferrigno interview: CBS changed Bruce Banner's name to David because they thought Bruce "sounded too gayish." [USA Today]
· Blinded By Thongs is now what we plan on calling that band we've been meaning to start since high school. [The Smoking Gun]
·"There's a SIG alert on the 405, apparently a multicar pileup caused by...this can't be right...Eddie Murphy's giant head?" [Deadline Hollywood Daily]

What wasn’t there to love about last night’s Season Four premiere of Weeds? Albert Brooks as Andy’s disapproving father calling Nancy “Francie”! Silas finally entering dangerously hot boy territory! The absence of Mary Kate Olsen as the trippy hippie “sexy” guest star! And as THR reports today, we’re not alone. With 1.3 million viewers tuning in to find out Nancy’s fate with the high-level hard drug dealers (so realistically frightening for even a comedy as dark as this one), Mary Louise Parker and her merry marijuana-scented series premiere broke Showtime’s record as the most-viewed season premiere in history, topping Dexter’s second-season debut which lured 1 million. For a taste of the action warranting this kind of attention, see this clip from last night involving Parker’s adorable attempts at child rearing, dead grandmothers discovered by prepubescent boys, and our introduction to the Botwins’ omniscient neighbor named, of course, Rad.

For those of you who have been closely watching Molly McAleer's "reimagining" of the Defamer To Do's, you will note that there are a few common themes that populate a number of the videos. While we won't get too geeky and break them all down for you (after all, that's what the comments are for), savvy observers will note that a fair number of these videos involve the ritual consumption of food and/or beverages. Tonight's video is no exception, as Molls attempts to explain what's happening in Los Angeles tonight over a hearty serving of soup and salad at the Soup Plantation. Enjoy!

Death completed its triple crown of taking down talented people that we actually like and respect. First, came Tim Russert, whose passing was quickly and sadly followed by Stan Winston. Now comes news that Cyd Charisse, the actress and dancer perhaps best known for her role in Singing In The Rain, passed away today at the age of 86.

It's getting so that there are fewer and fewer places where Joan Rivers can peddle her celebrity-terrorizing wares lately, having been banished from virtually every red carpet in town—but the 75-year-old post-Vaudeville warhorse shows few signs of slowing down. Case in point, she stopped by British talk show Loose Women today to plug the West End debut of her one-woman show; Women then took the extreme measure of ejecting Rivers from their studio after she let fly a two-megaton F&S Bomb in describing Russell Crowe. Rivers later explained how she mistakenly thought the world in which she moves is on permanent seven-second delay:

Just when we thought we'd leave well-enough alone and let The Love Guru speak for itself on opening day, a pair of related developments stoked another confounded binge of concern around Defamer HQ. This morning came the film's first review in Variety, whose Brian Lowry offered an eyebrow-singeing, backhandedly optimistic pan forecasting Paramount's first flop of the summer:

Chevy Chase has not been having the best of luck at his various public appearances lately. Following an incident at the Houston Museum of Fine Art in which the gala proceedings were interrupted by a piercing tone and the P.A. announcement, "Whoever took Chevy Chase's weed, he'd really like it back now. It's not funny, guys. It's for his glaucoma," comes this item from the NY Daily News: "Chase found an all-too-wild kingdom at the recent 60th anniversary celebration of Green Chimneys, the Brewster, N.Y., pioneer of animal-assisted therapy for special-needs kids. After grappling with a 15-foot albino python, the 'Funny Farm' star was invited to release a rescued red-tailed hawk. As the bird took wing, its talons nicked the side of Chevy's head. Good thing Chase was posing at the time with a crew of EMT technicians, who treated his scrapes." [NY Daily News]

No blog, talking head or alcoholic British songbird can compete with PETA when it comes to snark. For decades, the animal lovers have verbally beheaded countless starlets for their fur and snakeskin accessories, but only recently have their targets bitten back. After seeing a recent photo of plumper-than-usual Jessica Simpson sporting one of those so-last-season message t-shirts reading "Real Girls Eat Meat," we wondered how many of her peers have boldly set themselves up for one of PETA's trademark white powder massacres. Having called Nicole Richie "an incredible shrinking woman with the heart to match," advising Ashley Olsen that "wearing fur does add 20 pounds, but if [she] wants to fill out her frame, we suggest using a fork instead," and telling Lindsay Lohan "there's no road to recovery for the foxes who are anally electrocuted so that you can look skanky," has PETA inspired any other starlets to publicly react just as vehemently? We take a look at the ongoing battles after the jump.

We once pledged that impending fatherhood would do nothing to tame the mighty, freespirited party-beast that is Hollywood's most sought-after torsobitionist, Matthew McConnaughey. Loath as we are to deliver a pinky-flinging, double-shaka "we told you so" sign—well, we told you so:

[Photo Credit: INF Daily]

Depending on where you lie on the whole "insufferable, OCD-afflicted, house-flipping boss from Hell"-loving spectrum, news that the second season of Bravo's surprise hit Flipping Out premieres tonight will either come as a delight, or warning. Either way, it bears mentioning. Back again is the series's polarizing central figure, Jeff Lewis, who last season memorably spent 45 minutes entering a compound-drink order that involved the use of an overhead projector, a laser pointer, and a periodic table of the elements. In the preview scene above, Lewis has quite remarkably succeeding in adding yet another Boy Friday to his revolving menagerie of assistants. One week in, New Chris still seems eager to attend to his boss's fucking insane demands. To wit: stocking the meticulously numbered and aligned contents of his sparse refrigerator. (Coffee-Mates: 6. Yogurts: 6. Jars of martini olives: 3. Lunatics running the asylum: 1.) Like we said, you can either deal with this, or you can't. Personally, we're waiting for the series's breakout domestic to get her own spinoff, Feeling Zoila.

The quarterly news cycle addressing Hounddog — a/k/a Untitled Dakota Fanning Rape Project — appears to have fired back up again today, when we read that the Southern-Fried Scourge of Sundance '07 will not receive its planned July 15 release after all. Instead, distributor Empire Film Group will unleash the film on Sept. 5 — the dumping ground better known as Labor Day weekend. While we can't wait for Empire's "early-Oscar-season" spin, we're actually far more intrigued by the pledge for Hounddog's eventual home-video eternity:

In a touching coda to Father's Day, Britney Spears' father, Jamie, has petitioned the court to pay him for taking care of her. A real-life example of Chapter 5 of the Spears family parenting book, Their Personal Tragedy, Your Meal Ticket, Daddy Spears explained to the court exactly why he's owed $2500 a week for living with his daughter. The proud Papa was already awarded the weekly salary — plus money to lease a car — back in March. But that still left a month of pro bono parenting.

For his next trick, franchise-despoiling superproducer George Lucas has opted to abandon his long-delayed follow-up to Howard the Duck—having deemed the character not "sacred enough to really warrant a full-on sequel violation"—and instead has turned to the inspirational true story of the Tuskegee Airmen, the first African-American combat squadron to fight in World War II:

Sometimes two stories will come along on the very same day and reaffirm one of the oldest Hollywood clichés in history. Namely, that babe magnetism can be yours even if you don't possess looks, charm or gentlemanly ways. Provided, of course, that you have either money or music cred. With that in mind, we'd like to call your attention to two fantasy-worthy catfights brewing today. All kinds of manicured claws are out over the 80-year old borderline polygamist Hugh Hefner and the scraggly rock star Richie Sambora. Why four sets of fake boobs are rubbing up against each other (as Kate Hudson’s baby boy would say) and which contenders are looking like the early “winners” of the ongoing squabbles, after the jump.

[Photo Credit: Getty Images]

Tim Russert died. I'm not sure if you've heard. But, yes, the Meet the Press moderator and dedicated D.C. journalist passed away, at a too-young 58, last week and the media has been in a frenzy since. Jack Shafer at Slate (among many others, I'm sure) feels that the coverage is a bit overdone. Yes Russert was by all accounts a good guy and a good worker and just one of those decent people that feel in short supply, especially in Washington, especially in the media. But isn't it still a bit much? All the tributes and montages and teary testimonials. I mean, nearly every life deserves parades and fireworks and tears and montages when it ends. But, because this is on TV and people are being paid, somewhere, doesn't this seem all a bit circusy? Maybe that's cynical, but television has, to some extent, earned our cynicism. If this is indeed a "circus," then where does it rank among other notable, much-covered celebrity deaths? A writer for Psychology Today says it's the biggest death since John Lennon. We disagree. We'll put this all in some context after the jump.

While deposed New Line kingpins Bob Shaye and Michael Lynne haven't given up hope of reestablishing their little corner of low-earning industry autonomy somewhere in our glassy wilds, it couldn't hurt to hedge a bit with the ax-swingers at Warner Bros. Or so we hear today, as the Dyspeptic Duo reportedly is lining up a first-look deal at WB while still attempting to rustle up financing for their replacement shingle to be. They're already keeping their old WeHo and NYC offices, with the four-year WB pact potentially allowing Shaye and Lynne a chance to keep their sputtering maverick assembly line going without having to settle for the sloppy genre seconds Warners plans to channel into the new New Line — i.e. The Last Mimzy really was the last Mimzy. Former New Line executive VP is joining the team as well; good luck and happy fundraising to all involved. [Variety]

On yesterday's episode of Charlie Rose, Endeavor superagent and frequent HuffPo-contributing gripe-haver Ari Emanuel joined his two equally accomplished siblings—Rahm, an Illinois Congressman, Ezekiel, a National Institutes of Health bioethicist—for a roundtable entitled, "A discussion about healthcare with Ezekiel, Ari, and Rahm Emanuel." Asked by Rose how he ended up in the comparatively glamorous arena of entertainment, the Endeavor head explained how he considers himself not so much a Hollywood agent as a showbizethicist, taking on only those artists whose work can elicit some societal change.

Naturally we're delighted to see Jennifer Aniston's name in the news without any mention of her lesser half John Mayer, but unfortunately the actress' latest stunt does not include bikinis, Brad, or boy toy upgrades. In case you'd forgotten, the flower-scented B.O. phenom that is SATC: The Movie is being closely followed by another chick flick packed with A-Listers called He's Just Not That Into You. Aniston rounds out the female cast alongside Drew Barrymore, Ginnifer Goodwin, Jennifer Connelly and Scarlett Johansson. But according to Life & Style, Aniston took the very low road at a recent cover shoot for Marie Claire, insisting one of the ladies above be banned from the photo, making room for Aniston's widely seen curves to take front and center. Which co-star was allegedly instructed to leave the set, and whether or not Aniston's orders mean anything these days, after the jump.