Last night's Golden Globes red carpet was so glutted with talentless microphone jockies that we were tempted to virtually slash the vocal cords of the Dean Cains, Ryan Seacrests, Maria Menounoses, and Debbie Matenopouli with the mute button and substitute our own imagined mindless banter with the celebrities who clearly couldn't be bothered to engage with them. But out of the inept phalanx of "Who are you wearing?" monkeys emerged a new red carpet star in E!'s Isaac Mizrahi, who used the disarming smokescreen of his designer-grade flamboyance to ask Eva Longoria to hold forth about the disposition of her pubic hair (she demurred, though allowed that she's spray-tanned all over), to grope both Teri Hatcher and Scarlett Johansson (above; Hatcher pretended to be scandalized), and generally inject some loopy inappropriateness into the proceedings well before Harrison Ford's first drink. (Well, his first drink at the venue. Outside of the limo. And not out of a flask.) Mizrahi is, quite frankly, nothing short of a hero, and the fingers he used to caress Johansson's ample bosom should be immediately removed and bronzed for posterity.

If the Emmys are Oscar's crayon-eating little brother, then the Golden Globes are its developmentally disabled cousin from abroad, who somehow manages to coat his mouth in paste, then devour half of the innards of your favorite down pillow while you're busy child-proofing your open electrical outlets. And like that distant relative who pops in once a year (a Christmas here, a funeral there), you're obligated to sit and pretend to be entertained for a few hours as he wheezes out the occasional sticky feather. Think we're exaggerating? Stop what you're doing, go back to the TiVo, and replay the first five minutes of last night's broadcast, an introductory montage of red carpet arrivals set to a "special" version of the already dangerously insipid Pussycat Dolls song "Don't Cha." If you don't find yourself rummaging around the kitchen for a blender large enough to fit around the human head by the time they sing, "Don't cha love that Russell can throw left hooks"/Don't cha know the cowboy with his good looks?" you're far more generous souls than we are.

· Brittany Murphy finds a less controversial way to get her name into the rags: By getting engaged.
· Citing the always-reliable foreign-language translations of an actor's fansite, The Scoop circuitously notes that Matt Damon and the new wifey might be having a girl.
· Emma Thompson proves that she's just a down-to-earth gal by humbly storing those terribly embarrassing Oscars in her bathroom.
· The Gilded Moose turns up for Elvira's garage sale, discovers overpriced, tackily airbrushed denim.

You would think having Tom Cruise pull you around a sealed-off FAO Schwartz by your ponytail would be 27th birthday gift enough, but as it turns out, that was just the beginning:

· You're not off tomorrow, but you're still looking to work on a hangover music round-up: hair metal channelers Metal Skool at Key Club; the Editors at Spaceland; the Isley Brothers at the Henry Fonda.
· And because no Zach Galifianakis show must go unlinked, especially on a holiday, the Bearded One hits the mic (and probably the piano) at Largo.
· Authors Susan Shapiro and Ruth Ellenson team up to sign their books, Lighting Up and The Modern Jewish Girl's Guide to Guilt, respectively, at Borders Books on the Promenade in Santa Monica.

Conan O'Brien isn't the first comedian to use the intangible, inherent comedic properties of Finland to his advantage, though he could well be the first to affect the country's political history by doing so. So taken is he with his passing resemblance to President Tarja Halonen (see above), he has officially begun a one-man campaign in support of her re-election, going so far as to release this official press statement: "Why do I support Tarja Halonen? Because she's got the total package: a dynamic personality, a quick mind, and most importantly — my good looks."

· Yahoo! might be planning to revive the long-shelved ABC/Live Planet (Affleck and Damon) project The Runner as a Web-centered event. Original concept was a reality TV show with a "runner" trying to avoid capture by viewers in the real world, but now may reward any person spotting Ben Affleck coming from any meaningful meeting at a Hollywood studio with a cash prize. [Variety]
· Narnia finish first at the international box office for a fourth consecutive weekend, pushing its foreign take to $319 million, and its overall haul inches towards the $600 million mark. Disney is rumored to be considering plans for 58 Narnia-based sequels. [THR]
· Inspiring basketball drama Glory Road wins the MLK holiday weekend box office with $13.5 million, edging out inspiring Queen-Latifah-has-a-terminal-disease comedy Last Holiday. [Variety]
· Brokeback Mountain puts on its chaps and rides into some smaller cities, taking in $5.8 million in 683 theaters. It can't be long now before kids in small towns start showing off their Brokeback lunchbox/thermos sets at recess. [Variety]

After a nearly 15-year union, it seems that Coke is taking steps to phase out its relationship with CAA. Brandweek reports on the beverage empire's diminishing love for the agency:

A moment's silence, please, for the passing yesterday of Shelley Winters, an actress who quickly and cannily found her niche in the Hollywood casting pecking order (dumpy, loud, shrewish broads) and rode it to a five-decade career and two Oscars. But while most obituaries remind us merely of her many unforgettable screen performances in classics like A Place in the Sun, Stanley Kubrick's Lolita, and The Poseidon Adventure, it's the NY Times that highlights the other role for which she will long be remembered: Insatiable, bed-hopping man eater!

Saturday's LAT reported that KCRW DJ and bigshot feature film music supervisor Chris Douridas was arrested last Friday night on suspicion of shockingly creepy behavior:

· Baby? No, friends. This is no "baby." This is genetic supremacy. Let the master race begin.
· In the annals of celebrity sex tape history, if you'll excuse the expression, Colin Farrell's on again, off again romp rates as somewhat of a letdown, though we'll reach for it over Tom Sizemore's anyday, his great porn name notwithstanding.
· Hey...Wait. Just. A second. If we didn't know any better, we'd say Lindsay Lohan's publicist just pulled a fast one on us. Luckily, there's always a couple mouthy brats to set the record straight. And regardless of whether or not they're right, be prepared for her wrath.
· Will America's #1 Fibber James Frey ever eat lunch in this town again? Probably.
· Now why couldn't Larry Wachowski have written a memoir? Probably because no one would ever have believed it.
· Tom and Katie pay a visit to property hog Ellen DeGeneres' show. Keep those sunglasses on, kids, you don't want any of her harmful Ultra Lesbian rays getting in your eyes!
· When Steven Spielberg isn't threatening War of the Worlds-levels of career annihilation, is he also cribbing from 20-year-old MOWs?
· One bullet, so much Brokeback: Industry watchers consider the possibility of an all-gay cowboy, all-the time production slate, while the thing keeps racking up the awards, even if Utah Jazz owner Larry H. Miller still isn't budging on his immature ban. Don't cry, Skeletor Del Mar. It'll be OK.
· Ritualized humiliation reaches new levels of depravity, as Paramount rescinds CBS employees DVD discount, and E! sends The Style Network kids to Glendale.
· What's the hardest thing about being Mr. Hilary Swank? Don't ask Chad Lowe! He quits!
· An actress makes the mistake of using her lightbulb wattage star power to get preferential treatment on the wrong side of town, causing a Defamer commenter turf war to erupt.
· Ben, think of it as an investment in yourself.
· Jamie Foxx's A Million Little Dollars may be the real thing, but that doesn't make him any less of a douchebag.
· She'll be your fantasy, she's your crackbaby tonight...
· Some lusty, bodice-ripping romance lit action, starring Lady Paris.
· Lionsgate buys a win for its little princess, Crash.
· Hollywood is trying to figure out a more workable way to better distribute additional millions to its above the line millionaires.

· Old Defamer pal and scary Hollywood lawyer Marty Singer is cross with Jossip, but still can't stop the internets from looking at Colin Farrell's tallywacker.
· If you thought Zathura was a nightmare of pronunciation problems, wait for Tristan and Isolde.
· Somewhere in this story about Axl Rose suing a Beverly Hills car dealer over its failure to deliver him some exotic sports cars is an easy joke about the irony of his failure to deliver Chinese Democracy. But we're too tired to find it.
· Page Six is thisclose to crowning Maroon 5's Adam Levine Hollywood's favorite manwhore.
· And since it's been way too long: Hey, unicorns!

Friday
· Friday night music situation: Producer to Kayne/Fiona/all-around music genius Jon Brion at Largo; the Helio Sequence at Spaceland; Kristin Hersh (Throwing Muses, 50 Foot Wave) at Tangier.
· The Birth of the American Cartoon: Pioneers of Animation exhibit at LACMA's Bing Theatre will make you wistful for the days that cartoons didn't involve Pokemon or Dragonballs or what-have-you.
Saturday
· Duuuuude! Guitar Center Drum-Off! [at the Wiltern]
· Rock & Roe, a benefit to support the Women’s Reproductive Rights Assistance Project, brings the Tenacious D thunder and comedy from Greg Proops, Louis CK and Laura Kightlinger to the Henry Fonda Theater.
· Don’t bother bringing your Lord of the Rings memorabilia to the Track 16 Gallery, where Viggo Mortensen will sign books for the exhibit he did with Georg Gudni, The Nature of Landscape and Independent Perception.
Sunday
· We still feel residual guilt at abandoning Infinite Jest about 400 pages in, so: David Foster Wallace will read at the Hammer Museum on Sunday.
· Cinespace hosts the Sunday Filmmakers Rendezvous, a networking party that differs from any other night at a bar in Hollywood in that organizers are officially sanctioning all schmoozing activities.

No, it didn't quite have the deliciously unprovoked comeuppance or the ensuing victimized indignation of the Tom Cruise trick microphone red carpet dousing of last summer. But what it lacked in subtlety, the Munich-style revenge attack more than made up for in scale: Five paparazzi, who claim to have been on the receiving end of a Ledger loogie, launched a retaliatory attack on Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams with water pistols as they strolled down the red carpet for the Sydney premiere of Brokeback Mountain. The soaking lasted a reported 10 seconds, during which Ledger chivalrously shielded his partner from the blast, bravely unconcerned that a suspiciously warm-seeming stream might have originated from the pants of a particularly enraged paparazzo.

We apologize for some earlier confusion regarding the photo from today's Trade Round-Up post; Variety initially had misidentified the headshots of former UTA agent Marty Bowen and his soon-to-be New Line producing partner, Wyck Godfrey, and we incorrectly identified the black-and-white, yearbooky image as that of Bowen, not Godfrey. Now that the Variety snafu is cleared up, Godfrey's office was kind enough to supply us with a photo more representative of the producer's current, decidedly less monochromatic look, with which we're happy to correct the record.

Over at Slate, fully cybernetic BoingBoing futuro-blogger Xeni Jardin files a report on the start of every file-sharing geek's favorite time of the year, the annual kick-off of the awards screener piracy season. A handful of awards hopefuls are already burning up the BitTorrent wires, courtesy of either Academy voters or others with the opportunity to feed the piracy pipeline:

It won't be long before it's time to fire up the old birthing jacuzzi: Reports have surfaced that Her Miramax Majesty and celebrated fertility goddess Gwyneth Paltrow is once again with child:

The recent layoffs that swept the entertainment industry seem also to have reached the Fox lot, where we fear the entire Fox News Cafe Promotional Menu Department has been decimated by cutbacks. It's the only logical explanation for today's bill of fare supposedly celebrating 24's two-night, four-hour season premiere event. Feebly tied-in offerings like "pulse-racing pasta," "suspenseful sandwiches," and a "shocking" serving of Manhattan clam chowder make a mockery of the once-proud News Cafe theme-meal tradition. The most buzzed-about series on Fox's current schedule demands top-shelf effort, even if it results in an unappetizing, Bones-like misstep; better to overshoot the creative target with dishes like "Holy Shit! Did Jack Bauer Just Cut Off That Dude's Head? Meatloaf" then settle for the mediocrity of the "ticking clock combo." Fox execs better make sure that Kiefer Sutherland doesn't wander into the Cafe today, lest he express his rage at their promotional neglect by getting grievously drunk and asking permission to destroy the "Fucking CTU Salad Bar" in disgust.

Her New Year's Eve party may have been a washout, but spunky Stacked star Pamela Anderson has picked herself up, wrung out her gigantic fake melons, and jumped right into 2006 with abandon. Her first big project: Hopping back on board the anti-KFC train, and in doing so rendering our heads dizzy with a seemingly infinite combination of bust, breast and spork jokes:

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