Today's Santa Monica Daily Press brings the seemingly inevitable news (you can read a PDF file of the story here) that troubled, lesser Baldwin Daniel was once again arrested on drug possession charges in Santa Monica, the actor's preferred location for all of his narcotics-related busts, when police officers correctly identified the red flag represented by Baldwin emerging from a generically named hotel (this time it was the Santa Monica Motel, last time the Ocean Side Inn) in the middle of the day, quickly determined that the car he was driving had been reported stolen, and raided his room, where they found an illegal substance they demurely refused to identify, but which almost certainly rhymes with "crack." Kudos to the Daily Press for spicing up this otherwise thoroughly mundane story by comically perching Baldwin's image directly on their banner (pictured), then finding a way to tie it to yesterday's various, hotter Britney Spears stories by using the teaser, "Oops, he did it again." Nicely played.

Smelling money all over him in the aftermath of The Departed's success, Brad Grey lures Martin Scorcese into a four-year deal with Paramount, which includes the unique provision that the 'Mount can own half of any movie the director does for another studio while still retaining 100 percent of his soul. [Variety]
· Lindsay Lohan parlays her significant real-life experience of playing a victim on a variety of talk shows into a role portraying a more dramatic kind of victimhood in the psychological thriller I Know Who Killed Me. [THR]
After the firing of striking America's Next Top Model story editors, the WGA files unfair labor practice charges against Executive Producer Ken Mok's Anisa productions with the National Labor Relations Board. The Guild calls the action strike-breaking, while Mok claims that once they figured out how to force their IATSE-unionized editors to make their cast of skinny models seem remotely interesting, having writers around just seemed silly and wasteful. [Variety]
The FCC asserts that Hollywood can't say "fuck" and "shit" on the public airwaves whenever it wants, even when those words are mouthed by Cher and Nicole Richie at awards shows nobody cares about. [THR]
· Chastened by the historic fuck-ups of 2000 and 2004, the networks showed a new hesitancy to incorrectly project last night's election results. [Variety]

[Spoiler Alert: Just skip this one if you haven't seen Borat or haven't already had most of the movie ruined for you by the obsessive press coverage.] Those who have spent the past month or so trapped in a meat locker in an underground bunker deep beneath one of the country's low-Borat-awareness zones might conceivably be unaware that the film contains both scripted and unscripted elements, a conceit used to give the movie narrative shape and the audience things to laugh at between incidents with RVs full of racist frat-boys and dinner party hosts stunned to discover their Kazakh guest's seeming unfamiliarity with Western waste-elimination apparatuses. In an attempt to ease the fears of moviegoers still concerned that well-hung minors and prodigiously breasted former Baywatch stars might have been harmed in the making of the film, Radar (shockingly!) reveals that part of Borat's teenage son, whose member dangles incestuously close to his fictional father's face, was played by a completely legal male porn star, while Page Six (world-rockingly!) assures us that Pamela Anderson's security detail almost certainly has been trained in how to instantly stun-gun any fan who shows up to a personal appearance brandishing a hand-embroidered betrothal-bag, despite their relative bungling of their duties in the film's culminating scene. You may return to rediscovering on your own the line between fiction and reality hopelessly blurred by your potentially traumatizing cinematic experience.

It seemed as if a curiously long interval had passed since the last time an overzealous, lead-footed celebrity photographer had induced Lindsay Lohan into a fender bender, temporarily leading us to believe that the paparazzi had collectively lost the edge that has made them the scourge of any star unlucky enough to drive their own luxury automobiles. But today's Rush & Molloy item about the actress's latest vehicular run-in has restored our faith in local guerilla photographers' willingness to dent the occasional bumper in pursuit of the perfect shot of their Benz-bound quarry:

In industry known for its blind adherence to its centuries-old caste system, there is perhaps no group more woefully disenfranchised than its Armani-clad, blood-extracting agent underclass. (See? There we go reinforcing the kind of systemic bias keeping them down.) Sure, they get their ten percent of the hard work of the creative types who actually "make" the movies, but what they really want is respect, the one aftermarket option they can't buy for their BMWs, no matter how effectively they sweet-talk their dealer. The Envelope calls attention to their struggle to finally gain the awards season voice that the Motion Picture Academy has cruelly denied them for so long:

· While Britney Spears' lawyers were drafting divorce papers on Monday, Kevin Federline (who almost instantaneously acquired the moniker "Fed-Ex" since news of the split) was doing an interview with MuchMusic in support of the rap career which now, tragically, becomes his sole means of support not involving the "borrowing" of meal money from Sean Preston and Jayden James during his weekend visitation window. At some point during the interview, Federline received a text message, turned ashen, and left the table for half an hour, perhaps indicating that was the moment he learned his marriage was over, putting him only a year or so behind the average InTouch reader. In the above video of the scene, you can almost see the sparkle drain from his bling. [via PerezHilton]
· Federline brags that he would've been famous by now without Britney, then about the ridiculousness of his watch and kick games. We expect that both games will become somewhat less ridiculous once he starts selling off their parts for rent money. [Salon, ad-watching req'd]
· Will K-Fed use a custody battle to extract some of the money that the ironclad Massey prenup protecting Spears' pop-tart fortune prevents him from getting? Yes, we expect that he will, or he's going to have to sell one of the babies at the first unsupervised opportunity. Guy's gotta eat. [TMZ.com]
· If they were forced to pinpoint the exact moment that Britney's love for Kevin died, Us would pick that time Spears stormed out of his album release party at Xenii on Halloween. But really, there are so many to choose from that this is mostly a pointless exercise. [Us Weekly]

Daniel J. Blau is kind of like the guy who went from being in a Judas Priest cover band to being in Judas Priest: he used to recap America's Next Top model at Television Without Pity, and then he was plucked from obscurity to write for the show itself. His life from that point on was as magical and fascinating as Tyra's weave — until he and his fellow writers asked the CW network for fancy, decadent "benefits" and "health insurance." Silly writer! After a two-month strike in order to gain union status, he and his fellow ANTM employees are unemployed.
We feel for Daniel, even though we have to admit that we haven't seen a precipitous drop in the quality of the show this, uh, 'cycle' (go CariDee)! Relatedly, a tipster writes that the WGA (Writer's Guild of America) has filed an unfair labor practice charge against Ken Mok, the show's producer. We're torn: we want justice for Daniel, of course, but we don't want anything to happen that would jeopardize our ritualistic Wednesday 'model'-mockery. We'll keep you posted . . . because, undoubtedly, you SO care.

Just when we thought it was safe to finally stop thinking about the newly single Britney Spears for a few hours and watch the election returns, an IM from one of our porn-surfing spies arrived, directing us to a clip claiming to be the "Britney Spears & K-Fed Sex Tape," a 19-second scene starring what appears to be Spears herself (or a pretty good Spears-a-like—it still looks like her, even after dozens and dozens of viewings) enthusiastically administering a hearty hummer to her unseen then-househusband. Given the timing of the appearance of the footage, we assume that it's a highlight from the divorcing couple's rumored connubial sex production that a judge today ruled couldn't possibly hurt Spears' reputation, given that the pop-tartlet's brand is built on openly trading on her "modern sexuality." We may wake up to an inbox full of debunking messages, but for now, the video's conspicuously prominent title makes us think that we might soon be introduced to a website (like this one) hawking a product that finally shows us what Chaotic could have been had talent-hostile UPN not shortsightedly prevented the duo from thoroughly exploring the erotic possibilities of their handheld camerawork.



UPDATE: Filth-loving sister site Fleshbot is now proudly embedding the clip, in all its lusty, handjobbing glory.

· If you're looking for someone to keep you entertained throughout Election Night, our DC-based pals at Wonkette are posting projections (whether or not they're accurate is a story for another time) as fast as they get them, as well as dispatches about what bloggers are using to getting shitfaced at CNN parties. Head over and say hello. They'll be there all night.
· And as long as we're on the election tip, here's Idolator's video round-up of Rock the Vote's most awkward ads.
Alec Baldwin blogs an elegy for Tower Records, the much-lamented retail chain that's recently made Brett Ratner reflective about Hollywood's future.
The packaging of the screeners for Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth is made of biodegradable material that can be planted and grown into basil. Please insert your own joke about other studios similarly using packaging to reflect their content by wrapping their DVDs in human excrement.
· Vote Lohan! She parties exactly the right amount for someone her age.
· We can think of no better way to end the day than by bidding on your very own Britney and K-Fed divorce party! (Other than by getting wasted and watching election results on one TV while playing Guitar Hero II on another. But maybe that's just us.)

Our previous post about a beehive outside MTV's Santa Monica headquarters, in which we voiced our concerns that the aggravated honeymakers might be a divine symbol meant to foreshadow the impending fires and brimstone to soon come hailing down upon our quaint, seaside community, was read by a Defamer operative, who was then instantly reminded of another such ominous foretelling at almost the exact same location—a power outtage at Lionsgate HQ next door, to be precise, which occurred on Halloween day. The video above, made by a Lionsgate employee during an investigation into the cause of the blackout and distributed to the entire company, reveals the horrifying and gruesome truth behind what happened that day. Watch it if you dare, and merely await the coming of the final sign—a pack of albino coyotes wandering in from the North Hollywood hills to wreak havoc on the Universal backlot—which shall mark the official beginning of the End of Hollywood Days.

· Music round-up: Pete Townshend, Billy Corgan, and E from Eels at the Hotel Caf ; Ima Robot at the Echo; New York Dolls and Supersuckers at Avalon; Aerosmith and Motely Crue at the Hollywood Bowl; Joan Jett and the Blackhearts with Eagles of Death Metal at the Henry Fonda.
· Courtney Love will appear at the Virgin Megastore in West Hollywood to hawk her new book, Dirty Blonde. We expect your reports of any erratic book-signing behavior (including, but not limited to, unprovoked Sharpie stabbings) by midnight.
· If you haven't already done so, hit the polls and let the shadowy cabal behind Encore know that you're not going to fall for their nefarious Election Day tricks. Or show up and vote for the Governator anyway, secure in the belief that your mind was made up even before the Terminator/Conan marathon.

Santa Monica-based MTV staffers have been informed that God has expressed His displeasure at the unholy tearing asunder of the consecrated relationship of Britney Spears and Kevin Federline (really, we thought He'd send a celebratory hail of Care Bears, licorice drops, and red velvet cupcakes, but who can know the mind of the Creator?) by (once again) besetting the network's offices with a plague of bees. Says an e-mail forwarded by an operative:

Having lost many years and countless brain cells to the various Aaron Spelling-produced entertainments of our youth, we were thrilled to receive an invitation to last Friday night's DVD release party for the first seasons of 90210 and Melrose Place at the Beverly Hilton. Even though we were quite content to celebrate the occasion by huddling at home and staring at an autographed Tiger Beat cover of Jason Priestly we recently obtained at astronomical cost from eBay seller BrandonFan1991, we still dispatched Defamer staff photographer Amy Rodrigue to capture the laughs, tears, and emotional group hugs (Shannen Doherty didn't show up, so there were no third-degree bodily assaults to former castmates with utensils from the buffet) we were sure would accompany the many reunions fostered by such a momentous event. After the jump, our photos from the party, complete with just about every 90210/Melrose reference we could think of without consulting Steve Sanders and Amanda Woodward fan sites.

TMZ.com breaks the tragic news the world has been patiently awaiting ever since it was revealed that Britney Spears would be following up her first, Vegas-binge-enabled marriage with an even more ill-advised one to a background dancer with the ability to impregnate his better-employed companions with nothing more than a smirking, sidelong glance: She's finally divorcing househusband Kevin Federline, a move that should surprise no one save a single, shotgun-married Inland Empire couple too busy with their trailer park meth lab to realize that some unions are doomed from their poorly conceived, impossibly white-trashy start. Spears wants the kids—both of them, even the old, slightly damaged one!—an arrangement we'll assume is fine with Federline, who will have no problem restocking his shorty supply with the help of the lone groupie who shows up to each stop on his whirlwind, sparsely attended concert tour.

A Hollywood conversation that has dominated much of this decade—regarding the sorry state of affairs for sitcom writers being edged out by more popular and cheaper-to-produce reality programming—continues with an LAT piece that revisits the familiar topic in light of NBC's recent towel-tossing concession of their 8 p.m. timeslot to an almost entirely briefcases-and-yelling-based programming schedule. The debate still falls mainly into two categories: the steadfastly optimistic camp that insists we are just in the midst of an extended audience taste cycle, and the somewhat more pragmatic, "OK, we're pretty much fucked" school of thought:

Marvel plans to clog the summer of 2008—which may already feature the next Batman movie— with its superhero fare by setting a June 27th date for its Hulk sequel, which will arrive just two months after May 2's Iron Man release. [Variety]
THR releases its annual Next Generation list of "35 executives who represent the future of the industry," providing this year's ambitious also-rans a convenient inventory of the people they'll need to murder in order to advance their rising careers. [THR]
More Borat release hand-wringing: Did Fox leave "money on the table" by going with last weekend's limited release? Will the great buzz drive huge numbers of people to theaters when the movie goes wide on Friday? Will Sacha Baron Cohen's emerging fame rob him of his ability to goad RVs full of drunken, Southern frat boys into musing about the good ol' days of slavery? Developing... [Variety]
Paramount Vantage buys the rights to the supernatural novel A Jealous Ghost for Kirsten Dunst to produce and star in, satisfying the actress's desire to unnerve audiences with something other than her mouthful of creepy baby teeth. [THR]
Microsoft fights back against iTunes' content downloading hegemony by offering films and TV programs as on-demand options over their online service for the Xbox, finally offering viewers a way to watch "movies" and "shows" on a "television set." [Variety]

In an otherwise ho-hum story about Dancing With the Stars in today's NYT, nestled amidst the quotes from senior citizens and people who run DWTS message boards, are some choice words from none other than the Hedgehog himself. Who knew Ron Jeremy was so into clothed television?

As a registered nonprofit, nonpartisan organization, Defamer would never attempt to influence your voting decisions, but it's our duty to keep our readers informed about how some of Hollywood's most politically active celebrities are choosing to use their influence on this Election Day. With partner Angelina Jolie out of the country and distracted by her various refugee-related pursuits, Brad Pitt instead consulted with one of his most trusted political advisers, official Yes on 87 spokesbaby Suri Cruise, who quickly persuaded the environmentally minded actor to officially endorse the clean-energy proposition at a rally yesterday. We encourage our readers to clip out the attached image to supplement their sample ballots, as a quick glance at this visual voting guide should provide an instant reminder of where two of the entertainment industry's deepest thinkers stand on the issue.

Reichen Lehmkuhl, the Amazing Race winner and aspiring actor who managed to hush all the naysayers with his laudable, recent turn on Days of Our Lives as a bartending amateur detective hot on the trail of a missing cellphone, is once again making self-induced headlines with comments he made regarding the recent coming out of How I Met Your Mother's Neil Patrick Harris—coining a new word in the process:

LAist notices that Encore's Action channel has adopted an all-Schwarzenegger schedule on this election day, a possible attempt to donate some free airtime to the Governator's reelection campaign by network owner Liberty Media. Skeptics might readily dismiss the notion that corporate interests could be trying to bypass campaign advertising regulations as the tinfoil-hatted conspiracy theories of desperate opponents of a second term of Schwarzenegger rule, but considering that two of the governor's most-repeated reelection slogans, "I'll be back," and "Come with me if you want to live," are drawn from his work in the Terminator franchise (his defiant, Batman & Robin-derived "You're not sending ME to the COOLER!" never really caught on, presumably the reason the film was left off the schedule), it's hard to see today's Arnold Marathon as anything but a 15-hour campaign ad.