A reader offers this supplement to yesterday's report about Katie Holmes' Friday visit to Barneys, her venue of choice for when she needs to distract herself from the pressure of being the world's most famous fake expectant mother with some retail therapy:

A concerned operative on the Warner Bros. lot blows the whistle on the latest swarm of "killer" bees to plague an industry stronghold:

American Idol's producers would be hard pressed to bring any more viewers to their massive hit series than they already do, short of maybe adding an Agatha Christie-inspired element in which contestants were disposed of in creatively macabre ways that corresponded to their song lyrics. (Bucky smothered to death by a fat bottomed girl, etc...) Then again, if it ain't broke, why fix it with our convoluted reality show snuff fantasies? And at $1.3 million per spot for the show's two-person sing-off finale, Idol is definitely not broke:

· The ascendance of more militant leadership factions at the Writers and Screen Actors Guilds has Hollywood fearing that the unions may strike instead of just rolling over and accepting their usual buggering over residuals when their contracts are up. [Variety]
· Matthew Perry signs on to play a depressed screenwriter who only seems perky (i.e., a successful writer) in the dark comedy Numb. [THR]
· Concierge-battering roughneck Russell Crowe invites jokes about ironic movie titles by signing up to star in the "indie thriller" Tenderness. [Variety]
· Renee Zellweger takes a bold career step backwards, joining the cast of Paramount's creepy-kid-who-will-wind-up-stealing-every-scene-she's-in horror flick Case 39. [THR]
· Woody Allen dumps his Parisian mistress and returns to the comforting bosom of his recent London-based fling. [Variety]

Since coming out of the closet last year, Star Trek's George Takei has become a formidable gay celebrity role model. The two concepts sit alongside each other quite comfortably, as evidenced in the accompanying photo which ran with his coming out story back in October: Gay Takei, literally staring out at the world through rose-colored glasses as he proudly salutes his fans with the Vulcan shocker. For further proof, watch how the Roddenberrian and queer imagery intermesh effortlessly in this report of the actor lending his voice to a gay rights demonstration in Minneapolis:

Reports that Die Hard/Predator/Last Action Hero hero John McTiernan entered a guilty plea for lying to the FBI about hiring Anthony Pellicano to wirtetap producer Charles Roven hit yesterday afternoon, but this morning's news cycle brings some more information about what went down in the courtroom. Says the LAT:

The Colin Farrell sex tape has long faded into a tangle of unpleasant memories of shaky, handheld camerawork, crapulent leprechauns slurring out dirty talk, and repeatedly penetrated, desperate former Playmates, but today's Rush & Molloy column brings the welcome news that on Easter, Farrell, co-star Nicole Narain, and their respective legal teams sat down together and celebrated the holy day by spending five hours hashing out an "amicable settlement" for the tape and "completely resolve[d]" the situation. Farrell, however, will soldier on in his suit against the company that planned to distribute the video, selflessly championing the interests of all of us who were permanently scarred by our inability to resist watching the footage leaked to the internet early this year; perhaps he'll even share some of his eventual settlement money to help defray the cost of our therapy bills.

Syriana was not exactly a tourism commercial for the United Arab Emirates, unless of course your idea of a vacation is to retrace a girthy, bearded George Clooney's footsteps through a global military-petro-industrial conspiracy. After a four month review, UAE government censors have decided to release the film, minus two minutes of what they consider to be objectionable material. Still, that's nothing compared to the 134-minute edit they made to Brokeback Mountain:

A Very Special morning in Cruise-related news necessitates a morning round-up. Dig in:
· The morning internets are ablaze with the British Sun's straightfaced report that Tom Cruise told GQ that he plans on making a snack of Katie Holmes' placenta after the birth of their baby. ("I thought that would be good. Very nutritious. I'm going to eat the cord and the placenta right there.") How such a statement escaped our Cruise-hungry media flummoxes us (as always, we blame the Brits' superior gossip technology), but no worries—he already dismissed the comment as a joke between staged BlackBerry love notes on last Friday's Primetime.. Of course it was a joke! Do you have any idea how many thetans are in a placenta? That shit goes straight to your ass.
· CruisePollGate! Parade.com found it odd (and so did we, last week) that so many of its readers blamed Cruise's public relations troubles on the media in its online poll, so they did a little research, finding that 14,000 of 18,000 votes cast came from the same 10 computers—a clear indication of tampering. However, if Parade traced the IP addresses, we doubt they'd originate in the Celebrity Centre or one of the Scientology motherships. The Church has long outsourced its online sabotage ops to Bangalore, the only place on earth where the average wage is lower than their own.

· Die Hard director John McTiernan has pleaded guilty to lying to the feds in connection with the Anthony Pellicano Wiretapping Trial of the Century. There aren't too many details as of yet, but we're hoping that tomorrow might bring some insight about what Rollerball-related problem could've been worth all this trouble.
· Jonathan Antin might be our favorite TV personality at the moment, and this pre-Blowout (we think) clip from Ali G should help explain why. Not only is he all about hair and creating beauty, he's also about kicking some motherfucking cocksucker terrorist ass.
· Naming your son Brett seems to ensure that he's going to grow up to be...colorful? Is that the right word?
· The usually loose-lipped Fez won't spill which of Hollywood's "most awesome, fantastic A-listers are jumping on board" his ChiPs project, but that sounds like he's getting some serious Masterson and Kutcher interest to us.
· According to a highly scientific USA Today survey, Brad and Angelina's Chosen One is beating Tom and Katie's Miracle Baby in the competition for the public's affection.

The LAT's targeted online advertising software appears to be extremely well-calibrated, pairing a story about the founder of Barry's Bootcamp having been a massive drug addict for years with a banner ad featuring an obese, smiling Chris Farley encouraging you to "overcome addiction," part of a campaign that has also seen his giant mug plastered on billboards around town. There are multiple lessons to be learned here: not just about the dangers of drug abuse, but also in the value of regular exercise—except when supervised by a cracked-out cardio instructor.

The Sunday NY Times delves into the preposterous waters of celebrity baby naming, and all of the greatest hits get mentioned: Penn Jillette's daughter Moxie CrimeFighter, Jason Lee's son Pilot Inspektor, and of course, the reigning dumb name champion, Apple Martin. (Curiously, however, Nicholas Cage's Kryptonian superspawn Kal-el gets nary a mention.) The article interprets the trend as something of an creative-heir insurance policy: that no matter how ordinary the kid ends up being, at least something about them will be special, just like their famous folks.

· Stephen Farber's Reel Talk screening at the Wadsworth Theatre features satire/comedy/whatever American Dreamz, followed by a Q&A with writer-director Paul Weitz.
· Louis CK, whom you'll soon be able to see on HBO's first multicam sitcom (with swearing!), joins Dana Gould at Largo.
· Music round-up: The Colour at The Troubadour; Army Navy at Spaceland; Entrance at The Echo.

This morning, we covered our own asses (ahem) in allowing for the possibility that Lindsay Lohan's participation in an SNL sketch for Neutrogena Coin Slot Cream may have been tainted by the use of a crack-double. Our stunt-ass fears may have been realized, as an informant claiming to work on the show confirmed the use of a stand-in coin slot for the close-ups, citing the starlet's unwillingness to bear even an inch or two of her own butt-furrow on camera—a bout of modesty rendered somewhat pointless after Lohan's posterior-coming-out-party at the Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards two weeks ago.

There's an interesting Hollywood casting lesson hiding between the lines of this AP story about the actresses playing the wives of HBO's polygamist drama Big Love:

Even with seemingly the entire world huddled before the gates of Tom Cruise's compound, awaiting news of the birth of the Miracle Baby, Katie Holmes is able to escape through the estate's system of underground tunnels and emerge inside Barneys New York in Beverly Hills, where she wanders aimlessly, heavy with fake child. Reports a Defamer operative on Holmes' third documented Barneys trip in the past two weeks:

The NY Times' Sharon Waxman traveled deep into Amanda Scheer Demme's Fortress of Velvet Rope Solitude (tragically located in unfashionable Studio City) in an attempt to sort out why the temporarily clubless nightlife queen-in-exile was cast out of the celebrity-fellating Eden she so lovingly created at the Roosevelt Hotel, and to learn a little about the woman behind the clipboard-wielding legend:

· According to the Sunday Times of South Africa, the Governor of Namibia's Erongo region could hardly contain himself after a breakfast meeting with the famous couple: "They are having the baby here and they talked about giving the child a Namibian name." The article also claims the baby is due next month and that "Jolie has been overheard saying that the couple 'think it's a girl, but we're not 100% certain.'" The governor, who was warned what would happen if he was loose-lipped about the highly classified information, was last seen unsuccessfully fleeing the couple's tranquilizer-harpoon-equipped security detail.
· In his ongoing efforts not to alienate little Maddox in the days leading up to the arrival of his probably-but-not-100%-certain sister, Hello! magazine reports Brad will be getting a Buddhist "prayer for protection" tattooed on his lower back in honor of his adopted son. Always pulling the short straw in daddy-displays-of-devotion, Zahara has to settle for a short round of knee-mounted horsey, followed by some quiet busy-time with her Disney's Tarzan coloring books.
· Daniel Pearl's widow, Mariane Pearl, tells the NY Times that the movie based on her book about her slain husband is still very much alive on Pitt's development slate. She chose Pitt in a bidding war over five other studios because, "he was the only one who had read the book." It may not seem like such a huge gesture, but the closest any of his competition came to it was the one studio exec who assured her he "glanced at my assistant's coverage, and wow, you got yourself a movie there, lady."

The Sony lot wasn't the only entertainment industry outpost under siege by a sky-darkening plague of killer bees last week. A copy of an e-mail memo just obtained by Defamer details a warning issued to MTV's staff last Wednesday (a day before the Sony swarm, incidentally) in hopes of avoiding any allergy-related loss of employees:

Eva Longoria is confounded by the fact that her media coverage—for example, posing in a bikini for a 110-foot Maxim cover visible from space—has given the public the impression that she's some sort of a primetime soap-starring airhead. Promoting her upcoming supporting role in The Sentinal, she corrects the record on the massive intellect she has until now been keeping tucked away safely somewhere in her cleavage: