The NY Times rounds up the highlights from yesterday's "The Business of Show Business" symposium, for which the MPAA took some of the entertainment industry's brightest little achievers on a field trip to Washington to lobby Congress, hoping sympathetic, star-struck reps will officially declare a global War on Movie Piracy and immediately close down the U.S.-Canadian border to halt the further loss of renegade film shoots to the production-pilfering commie hinterlands to our north. A crucial component of the MPAA's lobbying strategy is to put a human face on the glitzy, hot-tub-pruned, coke-dusted world of Hollywood, stressing that dozens upon dozens of "real," hard-working people make movies, like the gaffers who are forced to relocate to Vancouver to chase work and the underemployed, recently Oscar-nominated directors who are barely making ends meet:

This morning brings the utterly unsurprising news that the allegedly nonexistent sex tape featuring second-tier Paris Hilton sidekick Kim Kardashian and some "Ray J" guy we've never heard of does, in fact, exist, and will soon be offered for sale at the misleadingly named website Kim Kardashian Superstar, which is already littered with preview images from the video. While Kardashian's official stance is "completely caught off-guard" and "ready to sue", porn purveyor Vivid is giddy about what their $1 million bought:

· At last, the Marty Tregnan Golf Academy explained. (Apologies to anyone who's never been to Griffith Park and has no idea why one should care about this enigma of the golf-instruction world.)
· From the Dept. of Classy Problems: Charlize Theron is being sued for wearing the wrong jewelry.
· Killjoy CBS censors a grizzly-sodomy joke on a Two and a Half Men title card that was probably funnier than anything Charlie Sheen did in last night's episode.
· Paula Abdul is under the hilariously naive impression that she owns her own life. Silly Paula!
· Ted Haggard is only gay for that one hustler with the good meth connection.

While his vastly more successful and less troubled brother Alec scoops up acting accolades at awards ceremonies around town, fascinating nature vs. nurture case study Daniel Baldwin's most notable recent projects remain limited to the sphere of crack-related run-ins with the law. Now, he can proudly add "fugitive experience" to his resume skills section, as a Newport judge has issued a warrant for his arrest for failing to show up to his arraignment for a car theft charge:

With its baby-preparation facilities crippled by last week's kitchen explosion (quickly: do you remember exactly where you were when the Creative Artists Death Star nearly blew up?), nearby Century City eateries find themselves increasingly responsible for the feeding of swarms of hungry agents unwilling to gobble down their brown-bagged infants while sitting at their desks. The Knife looks at Century City bistro La Cachette, which has seen a healthy increase in business since CAA moved to the neighborhood:

· Music round-up: Stellastarr at Safari Sam's; The 88 at the Key Club; Ben Harper and The Nightwatchman at the Hotel Café.
· Amoeba Records hosts a Valentine's Day-themed date with John Waters to promote his CD; Valentine's-appropriate attire is encouraged, and the first 200 people to buy a disc will get their photo taken with Waters to commemorate this very special promotional appearance.
· David Mamet signs his new book, Bambi vs. Godzilla; On the Nature, Purpose, and Practice of the Movie Business, at Book Soup. A free copy will be awarded to the lucky fan who can recite the most profanity-laden lines from Glengarry Glen Ross in the time it takes Mamet to sign his name.

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week, and the millionth sighting wins a Cavalier—so send them in often! Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you spotted Debbie Downer finding nothing to complain about at Mozza.

While the intent behind Prince's decision to project his 30-foot shadow upon a billowing sheet in a manner that would spotlight his prolonged stroking of a devil cock large enough to poke a disapproving Creator Himself in the eye with its infernal, barbed meatus should be obvious, the AP still decides to ask the question:

Fearing that indifferent, all-powerful lawmakers might not be hearing the voice of the obscure, California-based movie-fabricating industry whose interests they tirelessly represent on Capitol Hill, today the Motion Picture Association of America arranged for some of its most eloquent representatives to finally gain an audience in Washington with its "The Business of Show Business" symposium. But knowing that its best chances at swaying politicians probably lay in appealing to their basest star-fucking instincts, decided to sprinkle in some Big Willy Style for insurance:

· The Academy has finally caught wind of the blogowebs, and they'll just as soon set their petticoats on fire than let Oscarwatch.com confuse readers who might be searching for the official Oscar® blog that updates once every couple of weeks. [The Envelope, Oscarwatch]
· More tidbits from this year's Oscar luncheon: A record 139 nominees showed up, Peter O'Toole got a standing ovation, and the entire cast of Babel can be clearly seen giving the shocker in the class portrait. [Variety]
· The Secret Black Oscars, which Forest Whitaker hinted at in a Newsweek interview, is "not a protest or a statement," he told a reporter at the luncheon. [Reuters]
· 19-time Oscar-nominated bridesmaid Kevin O'Connell, a sound mixer once again recognized for his work on Apocalypto, told fellow nominees never to give up: "I've saved all my acceptance speeches, all the ones I've written on the backs of napkins and programs. They are all in a drawer at home." Martin Scorsese smiled and nodded his head as he listened politely, then leaned over to Mark Wahlberg to whisper, "Do me a favor. If I become that guy, shoot me in the back of the head, will you?" [Hello]
· Thank you BBC, for bothering to report what they actually lunched on: "They dined on a menu of smoked salmon canape with dill mousse, Italian herb marinated breast of chicken and sorbets in a chocolate cup." As Abigail Breslin dove into the final course, Greg Kinnear leaned towards his Little Miss Sunshine co-star to warn her that the frozen dessert will make her too fat to win on Oscar night. [BBC]

The less we say to prepare your for this cock-rock tribute to Hollywood's most accomplished practitioner of the blowing-up-shit arts the better, as we hope you'll be open to experiencing its glory without the interference of prematurely heightened expectations. Have we already said too much? Probably. Enjoy, and don't let the suspicion that the celebrated fauxteur himself somehow commissioned the piece himself reduce your inevitable rapture.

· Delays in a 24 feature script free up Kiefer Sutherland to do some non-terrorism-related work during his TV hiatus, allowing him to star in the supernatural thriller Mirrors from director Alexandre "The Hills Have Eyes" Aja. [Variety]
· OK, now we might have to start caring about Iron Man: Jeff Bridges is on board, joining Robert Downey Jr., et. al. in the cast. [THR]
· A "massive shakeup" at Discovery Networks sees the exit of a handful of top executives, but we find it impossible to care as long as the new regime promises not to fuck with Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl, the single greatest spectacle on basic cable. Whoever came up with the WaterBowlCam deserves his or her own channel to run. [Variety]
· CBS's Super Monday promotion successfully tricks viewers into thinking the Super Bowl is a two-night event, giving the network a Monday night win over strong Deal or No Deal and Heroes performances on NBC. In other ratings news, an estimated 7.2 million people watched Timothy Busfield chase around a coyote, snake, and ferret for an hour on Studio 60. [THR]
· South by Southwest reveals its film festival lineup, which will include Michael "Because I Said So" Lehmann's comedy Flakes and Judd Apatow's Knocked Up. [Variety]

Towleroad got a peek at the new issue of W, featuring Ellen DeGeneres on the cover looking glammier than usual, though her thumbs remain firmly lodged in her pockets. (You can wrap the tomboy in a turquoise shower curtain, the old saying goes, etc., etc.) This year's Oscars telecast host opens up about the label-envy she experiences every time she is passed over while her more femme lover is assaulted by the familiar Joan Rivers/Ryan Seacrest red carpet siren call, "Who are you wearing?"

Yesterday, the Academy continued its annual tradition of inviting its awards nominees to the Beverly Hilton for a casual lunch, an opportunity to have their picture taken in front of a giant version of the statuette they likely won't be taking home following the ceremony (we're looking at you, Will Smith! ), and a chance to receive an official warning about the dire consequences that await the willfully verbose should they violate their allotted ten seconds of acceptance speech time. While last year's too-gentle admonition about overlong speeches contained an ineffectual warning of a premature orchestra swell, Oscar producer Laura Ziskin now threatens overly grateful windbags with bodily harm:

Into Anna Nicole Smith's ever-expanding accordion file of ongoing court dates and legal troubles, nestled next to tab headings "That Fuckhead Larry Birkhead," "Evictions: My Birthday Present Dream Home Edition," "Stuff the Bahamian Authorities Should Never, Ever Find Out About Daniel's Death," and "When Do I Get My Geezer-Banging Billions, Already?" comes yet another section, marked "Fat Chick Suing Me Cause Her TrimSpa Didn't Work Good":

It's official: This morning, General Electric potentate Jeffrey Immelt presided over the coronation ceremony naming onetime morning show visionary Jeff Zucker NBC Universal's Peacock King, a ritual that included the G.E. CEO's delicately placing of a crude crown fashioned from the freshly harvested skull of superannuated outgoing executive Bob Wright on his new entertainment monarch's famously bald pate. (A moment foreshadowed by Jay Leno's draping of a Trump fright wig upon Zucker's head at a roast two years ago [pictured], a puckish act for which he now would be executed.) In anticipation of this sacred occasion, the NY Times looks at the challenges facing Zucker in his new position, pointing out that while tongue-clicking detractors note that NBC's post-Friends tumble into the Nielsen sub-basement occurred on his watch, millionaires whose checks he signs are firmly in his corner:

It's been quite a while since we've had the occasion to lend our helpful suggestions to the casting professionals responsible for quickly filling out the talent roster for CBS's inevitable, ripped-from-the-absurdly-sensational-headlines movie of the week (quite frankly, the Law & Order crew lately has been kicking the network's ass on the exploitation front), but yesterday's arrest of Lisa Marie Nowak, the kidnappingest astronaut in NASA, begs for an immediate Sunday night telefilm treatment. (Working title: Breaking Orbit: The Lisa Marie Nowak Story.) We wholeheartedly agree with a reader's recommendation that an offer should immediately go out to Oscar nominee Toni Collette for the Novak role, who may be lured to the small screen by a gritty, yet somehow flamboyant, part requiring a crazy-love-fueled 900 mile drive to intercept a romantic rival while packing a Wile E. Coyote-quality arsenal of a wig, a trenchcoat, adult diapers, BB gun, a steel mallet, some rubber tubing, and garbage bags. As for the role of her spacefaring object of obsession, putting out a call for "a Tony Shaloub type, but cheaper" will probably do the trick for now, as securing Collette's services will probably eat up most of the casting budget.

Today's the big day! Wal-Mart launches video downloads to compete with everybody else who's dipping their toe in the water. Movie downloads from $9.88 to $19.88, TV shows for $1.96, nicely undercutting the competition. Sure, the interface is a little garbled this morning, but have patience — you're just a few clicks away from Boynton Beach Club.

· Pictured: Even in the post-Nipplegate era, FCC censors probably have no idea how to handle the image of a thirty-foot Prince stroking his enormous devil's cock in front of tens of millions of TV viewers.
· It looks like outraged fast food industry officials have finally caught up with Kevin Federline and sent a clear message about fucking with fry cooks on national television.
·Famous person falls down! (OK, semi-famous person.)
· Merely hanging out with Paris Hilton is now enough to qualify someone for a magazine cover shoot.

Other CNN.com "story highlights" omitted for space in this AP commentary on the sadistic hook of the world's most popular TV program:
· 1/3 of judges likely tanked, helpless to wiles of crooning 17-year-old boys
· Contestants' self-appointed stage names (e.g. "The Hotness") often highly misleading
· Bush Baby aspirants likely to find themselves victims of Simon Cowell's merciless Bush Baby taunts: AP critic
· Parents often smoking from same delusional crack pipe as talent-free children.