Breaking Lindsay Lohan crash news, as the LAT reminds us all why we should never believe the first, second, or third through seventeenth things that issue forth from a publicist's mouth:

We apologize. We really jumped the gun when we referred to the initial announcement that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes were dating as the opening of the Seventh Seal. Which apocalyptic Seal are we up to since then? The Ninth? Fourteenth?

A Defamer operative returned to the scene of yesterday's vehicular tragedy and just filed this report on The Crash's aftermath:

Before you head off to lunch, why not take the Defamer Photo Challenge? Can you find the photo of the deployed airbags in Lindsay Lohan's wrecked Mercedes among the images of Rosie O'Donnell learning to use her cameraphone recently posted to her Flickr site?

How "laid back" is Viacom co-president Tom Freston? This laid back:

· Universal and Fox bring Peter Jackson and wife Fran Walsh on as executive producers of their co-production of Halo, buying some very expensive insurance against the possibility that yet another video game movie will be a disaster. [Variety]
· NBC has picked up the "back nine" episodes for My Name is Earl, greatly increasing the chances that we're going to be subjected to a full season's worth of the network's Satan's-nails-on-a-chalkboard-in-hell promotional campaign. [THR]
· Tony Scott abandons his directing duty on Touchstone/Bruckheimer project Deja Vu due to "logistical and scheduling problems" resulting from the destruction of New Orleans, where the movie was set to shoot. Indeed, those pesky natural disasters can really mess up a production schedule. [Variety]
· Seemingly unaware that the season premiere of Will & Grace has ruined the live-TV stunt for all time, CBS and George Clooney (of "not hosting Brangelina's wedding" fame) will team up for a live TV version of the Academy Award-winning film Network. [THR]
·Roland "The Independence Day After Tomorrow" Emmerich will direct 10,000 B.C. for Columbia pictures, which follows "three stages in the development of primitive man." We can't wait to see what it looks like when caveman society is ravaged by incredible explosions. [Variety]

In today's "Lowdown" column., flacks for both George Clooney and Brad Pitt both openly question the veracity of a tip that NY Daily News JV gossip Lloyd Grove received from his favorite Italian ferry operator. Clooney, they assert, will not be playing host to Pitt and Angelina Jolie's nonexistent secret Lake Como nuptial celebration:

No more false alarms, this time the pain is real: Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson, America's lone beacons of love and marital stability, have finally split. How do we know this? We simply walked over to the window, looked up to the heavens, and watched in horror as a dozen rainbows simultaneously turned black and fell to earth, destroying several houses in the Hollywood Hills. Also, Gawker and US Weekly told us. Our hearts go out to the former couple (especially Lachey, who is now no longer famous—tough break, kid), as well as anyone else who has suddenly realized that love is a scam sold to you by Tom Hanks movies and Thai massage parlors on Hollywood Blvd.

A few minutes after 5pm last night, the Defamer inbox flooded with news (both from spies near the scene and those watching on local TV), about Lindsay Lohan's latest vehicular run-in with the paparazzi. Unfortunately, this was one of the rare moments when we weren't in front of our master the computer [Ed.note—We've already ordered stronger shackles.]. Here's the short version: Apparently fleeing some paparazzi, Lohan's black Mercedes collided with a red delivery van in front of the Newsroom on Robertson, treating many employees of nearby New Line Cinema to a breathtaking view of the ensuing chaos. Lohan and her passenger immediately sought the refuge of a nearby antique store with the improbable name of—we shit you not—Hideaway House. (Sadly, no one had to foresight to establish a small business called Run Here After The Paparazzi Make You Wreck Your Benz! Home Furnishings.) Lohan and her thrill-seeking passenger (you have to have a thirst for danger to take a ride with LL) sustained minor injuries, the guy in the van suffered more-than-minor injuries, and—we know what you're thinking—"Authorities said there was no evidence alcohol was involved in the crash." That certainly settles the issue for us.

· We have no idea who Chris Cagle is, but through the magic of public statements, we now know that someone else knocked up his wife girlfriend. In case he doesn't know who the real father is, we think we can safely eliminate Kenny Chesney.
· You'll get no argument from us: Kal-el Cage is a pretty stupid name for a baby. On the bright side, at least Nic Cage wasn't crazy enough to reach into his past and name the little bugger "Osweepay." [Thanks to everyone who reminded us about that.]
· Sayeth new SAG head Alan Rosenberg, all but signing a fat campaign contribution check over to The Benator: "'We're Americans, and if we don't speak out, who will?' he says. 'If anyone puts a microphone in front of my face and asks about the war in Iraq, it's my obligation to speak out and say we're in deep trouble. I have more faith in what an actor has to say, if they're well informed, than any politician.'"
· What are the odds that Oprah hold off celebrity Scientologists' all-out recruitment drive? Oddjack investigates, sort of.

· National Book Award nominee Joan Silber discusses the element of time in fiction as part of UCLA's Hammer Readings series. So, Mr. MFA, put down that sitcom spec script and remember the days before you knew what a slugline was.
· Music round-up: John Doe and Laura Cantrell at The El Rey; Four Tet at the Echo; and, oops, hope you didn't waste a trip to Pomona last night, as M.I.A. plays the Henry Fonda tonight.
· Here's where we really test what kind of diversion you're up for just because it's free: Discuss new and exciting materials with architects and designers in Silverlake.

Observing the established etiquette for the public dissolution of a fake relationship, Paris Latsis waited a few days after ex-fiancee Paris Hilton's announcement that their erstaz engagement had ended before issuing his own statement, allowing the story time to reach maturity in the media:

Like a catty friend with a canny ability to compliment your dress while slyly calling attention to your saggy boobs, MSN Movies simultaneously celebrates/claws out the eyes of its favorite, most underrated actresses. Let the meowing begin:

When you only get to take a bubble bath with your Captain once every seven years, you'd better make it count.

We were only vaguely aware that ex-con domestic goddess Martha Stewart had another show besides her soon-to-be-canceled Apprentice spinoff, but a reader recaps an instant classic TV moment from yesterday's Martha:

· NBC greenlights the hourlong comedic drama pilot Heist, to be directed by Doug Liman. The show "is an 'Ocean's Eleven'-style hour about a group of thieves who'll spend the season engineering and executing a grand scheme to simultaneously rob three Rodeo Drive jewelry stores. The twist: They're planning to pull off the job during Oscar week." Liman's pilot has been optimistically budgeted for $175 million. [Variety]
· One day, there will be only two things on your television: A faint distress signal* originating from an inflatable raft after the Great Biblical Flood of 2021, and Jimmy Kimmel Live. [THR]
· Cancellation watch: NBC pulls Inconceivable from this week's schedule, though it's scheduled to return on the 14th. Looks like fertility drama fans can kiss their televised turkey basters goodbye. [Variety]
· With teams from four of the top six cities in the playoffs, FOX and ESPN are ready for big ratings. But should the Yankees and Red Sox not meet in the ALCS, both nets will petition MLB for do-overs until the correct results are achieved. [Variety]
· Filthiest trade-paper headline of the day: "Arnett, Shepard Get Wet at Par" [THR]

[*After 2019, mobile phones will have TV broadcasting capabilities.]

Not too long ago, Entourage's Jeremy Piven (it's going to take a couple of movies before that "Entourage's" identifier goes away) complained to Liz Smith, "I don't think that anybody has ever seen my body!" Be careful what you wish for, Piv. From Page Six:

Tom Cruise is trying out this Method acting stuff, and it's Ethan Hunt, his incredibly uptight character in Mission: Impossible 3 who needs his own porta-shitter, not Cruise. Hunt really hates to be interrupted when he's settled in to a private "auditing session" between takes—a knock on the door makes him seize up, resulting in costly delays for the entire production.

In this, her darkest hour, rehabbing supermodel Kate Moss knows that even when it seems that the whole world has turned on her and pretended that it doesn't enjoy a good line of blow or five for an afternoon pick-me-up, Sharon Stone has her back:

Before our buddy over at Screenhead slipped this link our way, we had never heard the term "megaphone croon." But, like virtually everything we can think of, even this old-timey form can be nudged towards artistic perfection with the application of four little words: Snakes on a Plane. We think we've found the music that must play over the closing credits as outtakes of Samuel L. Jackson clowning with an albino cobra fade in and out.