Fox will heap a last indignity on Arrested Development tonight, when the network airs a four-episode, two-hour, can-we-just-put-on-what- we've-got-left-so-we-can-start-selling-the-goddamn-DVDs-already "season finale," finally pressing its pillow down long enough for the suffering series to stop its stubborn kicking on a relatively witness-free Friday evening. Diehard fans can hold out hope that potential saviors Showtime or ABC will resurrect the Bluths for a couple of more seasons (long enough to help them cross over into the immortality of syndication), but those made of more pessimistic stuff should say their goobyes tonight, accepting that it's likely the final time they can break out the mustache and Daisy Dukes from their Official Tobias Fünke Never-Nude Fun Set knowing that they're simultaneously sharing the experience with other AD fans.

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· Black Wednesday becomes Blacker Tuesday: 109 of the 129 employees in Paramount's domestic distribution department were fired to make room for a leaner, meaner team mostly comprised of DreamWorks staff. Somewhere on the Melrose lot, Emperor Grey shrugs off the executions by imagining all the money Steven Spielberg might one day make for him. [Variety]
· ESPN/ABC Sports trades sportscaster Al Michaels to NBC for an animated, lucky rabbit. Seriously. [THR]
· Producer Bob Yari loses an appeal to the Academy for a producer credit on Crash, which will keep him off the podium should our worst nightmares be realized and the movie win Best Picture. [Variety]
· In perhaps today's most inspiring trade paper tale of redemption, the guys who wrote Elektra have overcome that tragedy to continue to work in Hollywood. [Variety]
· Jennifer Beals joins the cast of The Grudge 2, leading to much rejoicing at Defamer HQ. We loves us some Beals. [THR]
· Holy fucking shit: Someone actually took the $100K and got the Pink Panther surgery. [Variety]

In covering Barbie's longtime, on-again, off-again lover Ken's new look somewhat butcher, better clothes, and, like most Hollywood celebrities, still youthful thanks to a head full of plastic CNN's slice-of-life reporter Jeanne Moos ran into Harrison Ford's tongue-happy Firewall co-star Virginia Madsen on a New York street (video available here). Throwing Barbie's beau in the somewhat stunned actress' face, Madsen calmly stated the following as national news cameras rolled:

This, sadly, is the way it works in Hollywood. You can pile up credits in four different decades, but when you die, you're once again the meek honky that George Jefferson chased out of his apartment week after week, year after year.

The Anthony Pellicano Wiretapping Trial of the Century is turning into a bit of a disappointment, offering not the Skittles waterfall of celebrity secrets we all were hoping for, but instead only popping out a stale gumball of dirt here and there. In this latest chapter courtesy of NY Daily News, we find out Pellicano had a mysterious grudge against surveillance target Sylvester Stallone (though paying to see Driven would seem motive enough), and learn of a desperate call from Naomi Campbell that makes the fierce runway glamazon sound more like a last-legs Marilyn Monroe:

Today's Page Six reports on the "multiple meltdowns" that followed in the wake of Wednesday night's Grammy awards ceremony, including a road-clogging snafu incited by America's Favorite Fauxteur:

As celebrity relationships continue to crumble around us, one of Hollywood's sturdier love affairs that of Tom Sizemore and his heart-quickening, tooth-loosening mistress, crystal methamphetamine continues its tango of reckless passion:

Vanity Fair Hollywood issue guest editor Tom Ford didn't insert himself into the magazine's cover shoot on a passing whim. When one shy Canadian sabotaged his original vision for the photo, he performed the peculiar girls-in-a-bed calculus known only to industry insiders, scrutinized the results of the equation, then heroically stepped in to save models Scarlett Johansson and Keira Knightley from a lifetime of bitchy whispers:

Maybe Tom Ford did know what he was doing with Vanity Fair, just not with the cover. A gay man pretending to enjoy taking a bite out of a big ol' fake titty is about as Hollywood as it gets.
· Knowing that his Fat Clooney ploy might not finally land him an Oscar, George Clooney's working on some equally handsome-dampening looks for his next project.
· Headline of the day: Bening convincing as zonked-out killer.
· Even the Freakonomics guys are annoyed by Jessica Simpson: "On a separate note, another passenger on this same flight was Jessica Simpson. Without going into too much detail, I will say this: if you are a fan of hers who complains that the media unfairly portrays her as more obnoxious than she really is, you need to come up with a new line of defense."
· Finally, the Butterscotch Stallion returns to the tabloids.

Listen here, Mr. "Insider" man Pat O'Brien, or whoever you are. We realize you may have the last word in Grammy fashions dos and donts, what with Steven Cojocaru being your red carpet fashion expert and all, but don't you think your choice of wording with regards to Teri Hatcher's outfit was a little insensitive? Yes, perhaps it revealed a bit more leg than CBS audiences might be comfortable with, but insinuating that the crown jewel of ABC's primetime lineup is actually practicing the world's oldest profession just because she raided a hooker's closet for one night seems a little cruel.

Let's get to your blind item guesses before the afternoon dismissal bell sounds and everyone runs screaming for the parking lot, shall we? But first, reintroduce yourself to One Wigged-Out Blind Vice:

"Stars of The Simple Life Whore Themselves Out For Trademarked Fluids Day" continues here at Defamer with the exciting press release announcement that "Hollywood Sweetheart" Nicole Richie will be working through her DJ AM issues on Valentine's Day by making herself available to any New York pedestrians interested in a free sample:

· Art By People in Love at the Echo Park Film Center can be anything, so long as it's created by, well, people who are in love. It could be a song, painting, interpretive dance…a strategic photospread in the gossip rags to cover-up your same-sex relationship with the publicist who planted it...anything! [via lafreebie]
· Former Warner Bros recording artist Jen Trynin signs Everything I’m Cracked Up To Be: A Rock & Roll Fairy Tale at Book Soup, her memories about the rock lifestyle.
· The Thursday night music thing: Foreign Born, Cold War Kids, and In Waves at the Echo; Tyler Hilton plays the Unity Charity Event at Avalon; Chocolate Genius at Largo; The Click Five at the Roxy.

Are you a hacky director who's curious about a side-career as a transvestite street walker working the Santa Monica Boulevard beat, but not sure that the life is for you? With the online Let's Go Cruising with Lee Tamahori simulator, weary fauxteurs ready for a different kind of Hollywood whoredom can outfit newly minted cross-dressing icon Lee Tamahori in a variety of wigs, corsets, and garter sets; think of it as dipping a toe in the chilly water of gender-bending sexual entrepreneurship before sheepishly buying a bustier from Trashy Lingerie "for your girlfriend" and hitting the streets for real.

We were perhaps too distracted by our repeated, failed attempts to please Paul Walker's horny virtual wife to consider the potential privacy-violating implications of turning over our personal information in exchange for a crack at New Line's online game for Running Scared. BoingBoing's Xeni Jardin immediately smelled something wrong (or at least got tipped to the weirdness by G3k) with the website's supposed age-verification system:

Exciting news for residents of Montebello looking to perhaps whore-up their staid image: The Paris Hilton Prurient Express will be making a stop at your local Robinsons-May this afternoon, where a two or more item purchase from one of Hilton's signature fragrance lines (suggested retail price: $53 each) will be rewarded by an autographed picture from the master parfumier herself!

In response to our earlier post about Ben Affleck's movie premiere no-show, a reader noted that tragically misidentified director Mike Binder might have some trouble getting superagent Ari Emanuel on the phone, as he'd be earning his ten percent on the course of the AT&T Pebble Beach National Pro-Am. This delightful tip had us scouring the PGA Tour web site for scores, which seem to reveal that Emanuel has missed the cut based on last year's results*, he might be available for his more traditional agenting duties sooner than expected.

In a turn of events best filed under the heading "Showbiz's Lil' Ironies: Celebrity Ego Check Edition," last night's airing of American Idol trounced the Grammy Awards in the ratings: