Ariel "Ari" Z. Emanuel is a powerful talent manager and head of the Endeavor Agency. Emanuel is a dedicated activist and passionate opinion-haver; his pet causes include environmentalism, criticism of the Bush regime, and Mel Gibson blacklisting advocacy—all of which he's blogged about in an ongoing column at The Huffington Post.


Assistant beer pong is a competitive drinking game played between teams of Hollywood assistants. It involves the bouncing of ping pong balls into a triangular formation of beer-filled cups, leading inevitably to sloppy inter-agency procreative activities.


Baby eating (also called baby gobbling and newborn munching) is the consumption of fresh nurslings by CAA agents (see: CAA Death Star). An ancient agent delicacy, their fleshy infant meat is said to enhance negotiation potency.


Bee attacks are an infrequent but repeat occurrence on studio lots, resulting in no known executive deaths or stings. Some consider the swarms to be a harbinger of the coming End of Days (see Apocalypse, pop culture).


Ben Silverman Threat Level is a color-coded threat advisory scale alerting Defamer readers to NBC rock star/co-chairman Ben Silverman's impending shitcanning, due directly to his failed efforts to lift the network from last place by resuscitating 1980s junk entertainment about talking cars and steroid-addled pugilists.


The Butterscotch Stallion is a nickname coinage for popular comedic movie star Owen Wilson, used first in a PrivacyWatch submission, and quickly championed by this site as the definitive Wilson nomenclature. As you can see from this magazine cover, it stuck.


The CAA Death Star is the name Defamer gave to the agency's new headquarters in Century City. Commissioned by partners Richard Lovett, Bryan Lourd, Kevin Huvane, Rob Light, David O'Connor and Rick Nicita, the planet-sized superweapon and agenting station was designed to obliterate everything in its path, while at the same time offering agents a more feng shui-friendly work environment.


Cokepants refers to the blow-filled slacks worn by high-profile shock starlet Lindsay Lohan after being stopped by police in 2007 for commandeering a Denali, then proceeding to take its terrified hostages on a high-speed chase through West L.A. She would later deny ownership of the lo-rise narcotic-vessel.


Commenters are Defamer's illustrious, if tact-deficient, feedback-driven readership. At best, their searing wit and valuable insights can often improve upon a post; at worst, they can cause a fallen teen idol to plummet to all-new depths of utter hopelessness and self-loathing—particularly when their questionably motivated, Marlboro-huffing assistants read them to them out loud.


Defaker was an ill-conceived online marketing tool based on Defamer, and used to promote Aaron Sorkin's short-lived network-sketch-comedy-show drama, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Among its many strategic missteps, it allowed for user comments, leading network-planted plot points to stand alongside viewers' savage critical assessments of the poorly received series. (See also: "Aaron Sorkin, I'll be seeing you soon! Posted by: Crack")


Entourage Acknowledgement refers to an episode of the popular HBO comedy, in which agent Ari Gold is led to Defamer by his assistant, Lloyd, thereby lending the site added legitimacy and prestige by merely being mentioned in the same breath as dialogue like, "Is that smirk for me or are your Ben Wa balls shifting?"


Fauxteurs is a Defamer coinage referring to a breed of highly successful and unapologetically commercial Hollywood director, whose rise to prominence has as much to do with preternatural self-promotional gifts as it does with delivering eye-pleasing phoned-in hackery under budget and on time. (See related articles Casting Couch, Starlet-Stuffed Hot Tub Orgy at Bob Evans' Place)


The Grove Trolley is a nostalgic attraction of a popular outdoor L.A. shopping mall, and a useful means of making the 80-yard trek from Banana Republic to the dancing waters if you're pressed for time.


The Gays are an influential show business minority majority, whose tastes and proclivities have steadily encroached upon the once heterocentric Hollywood norm. Their influence can be felt everywhere from televised dancing competitions to this year's Oscars, where host Hugh Jackman offered Nixon-channeling also-ran Frank Langella an impromptu lapdance, as a half-dozen Indian children looked on in utter confusion.


Grazerhead is the official headshot of Brian Grazer, sent to us by Imagine Entertainment with instructions that it accompany any posting about the highly cultivated superproducer. It grew steadily in size until eventually emancipating itself as a self-sufficient superproducing entity in early 2008. It was later co-opted by greedy corporate interests, who plastered it on everything from Halloween masks to suntan lotion bottles.


Orphan collecting is a popular hobby adopted by A-list celebrities in the early 21st Century. It involves scouring the globe for rare and wonderful specimens, which they then trade amongst each other, either by bartering them, or by using them as collateral in competitive orphan-collector games like Orphan Bowling and Orphan Poker.


Kiefer sightings are the rarest and most precious of all Hollywood PrivacyWatch sightings. They occur in dive bars near or around the trendy Silver Lake area of Los Angeles, and frequently involve the very inebriated star of 24 leading a crowd of strangers in a rousing chorus of Pogues and/or The Clash songs, followed by a shrub attack.


The Pop Culture Apocalypse is a doomsday foretold in the Book of Reservations. It states there will come a day when Hollywood produces nothing but irrelevant boardgame movies, unnecessary remakes, and disappointing sequels, and will test Mankind's crappy-movie-loving nature by the loosing of Satan* to rain hellfire upon our multiplexes. (*Or Lisa Rinna, depending on scheduling availabilities.)


Strike Baby (also the Incredible Picketing Baby) rose to prominence during the devastating WGA strike of 2008, quickly becoming a potent symbol of union solidarity. Also, her poopie-diapers offered a pungent metaphor for AMPTP president Nick Counter's enduring weinerdom.


Antediluvian Viacom Potentate™ Sumner Redstone and Future Galactic Dictator™ Les Moonves are immortal and all-powerful media Siths overseeing one of the world's most influential and far-reaching entertainment multiconglomerates. Both possess laser vision, mind-control skills, and cartoonishly outsized male members.


Sundance Fever is a viral infection that afflicts mainly bloggers and film journalists at independent film festivals; it is exacerbated by cold temperatures, high altitudes, and incredibly douchey looking hipsterbears who dance on podiums. As there is no known cure, health professionals recommend covering the symptoms with as many complimentary Absolut Mango cocktails as your body can hold without actually losing consciousness.


TOMKAT is an acronym. It stands for Thetan-Operative, Moppet-Kidnapping Android Twosome.

We hope that was of some use to you.

Now for some parting thoughts:

I found Defamer while chained to a desk at Lions Gate (this was before the studio had sold the space in their name for a cool $30 mil to a gullible Saudi prince with Hollywood aspirations), and had I not discovered Mark Lisanti's sprawling online epic , I really don't know if I would have made it through. Mark gave me a gigantic break and I'll always owe him one for it. He's also the funniest person I'll probably ever know, and sharing the echo chamber inside Mr. Defamer's head with him for three years was just about the greatest experience ever.

STV and Kyle: You guys are hands down the best there is, but I won't go on and on about it because we're going to continue working together, and that's like the old romcom cliché of having really hot sex with someone you meet in a bar, and then running into them in the elevator the next day at a new job and realizing they're your new blogging partner. Or something. I don't know—that analogy went off the rails somewhere.

Matt and Julie, I never tire of your hilarious takes on Baby Pirates and Dogs with Human Children and various other obscure cable reality shows I'm still not entirely convinced exist. To the GM gang past and present, thanks for your tireless help and virtual companionship. Molls, I miss ya dearly. Nick, my life will be all the emptier without your daily memos filled with indecipherable traffic charts. Oh gosh, the orchestra is starting to play me off. Who am I forgetting? My family, my stylists, my Restalyne hygienist, and..and..and—

Oh yeah! You guys—the sharpest damn readers anywhere. I might not know what you guys look like, but coming to work every day was like being in the best writers' room on the lot.

This isn't goodbye. This is just another beginning.

- Seth

For starters, Defamer isn't going anywhere. True, it's undergone a series of drastic physical transformations over the years—starting out as a skinny, fresh-faced L.A. dirt rag, growing eventually into a full-service showbiz-skewering media hub, and now evolving into its current incarnation as Gawker's Hollywood dispatch—but you can still come here daily for all your salacious showbiz gossip needs.

But if it's specifically the voices of outgoing editors Seth, STV, and Kyle you seek, there is another option coming down the pipeline. This Spring, the three of us will have the pleasure of launching—or rather re-launching—Movieline magazine as a pop culture site: Movieline.com. For the new generation of studio stapler-dodgers among you, Movieline was a must-read back in the '90s—a Cahiers du cinéma on crack that was unabashedly in love with the movies, but never reluctant to stick it to the Hollywood Man. We think it's time to bring it back, with a wider breadth of pop culture coverage. Shoot us your e-mail addresses for updates about the launch.

Choices! Everybody loves choices! High five!

• Movieline.com

Meanwhile, another prominent, if less lauded, Hollywood star and ardent wrestling fan has become a very different kind of WWE casualty. Finding himself with some free time on his hands ever since Delgo failed to make him the toast of the CGI V.O. artist community, Freddie Prinze Jr. took Vince McMahon up on an offer to join the SmackDown creative team.

Prinze left the post last week, and the rumor was that he was let go for leaking plot spoilers online. Not so, according to this weirdly written report from wrestling trade site 24wrestling.com:

There has been speculation among WWE staffers that Freddie Prinze Jr. was one of the creative writers leaking WWE information. However, the official reason Prinze left WWE because of the demanding schedule, which is one of the main reasons other writers have departed from the company.

We may never truly know whether Prinze's midlife career change was cut short because he released the name of Jeff Hardy's mystery attacker (GIANT SPOILER ALERT: It was Christian!), or because the Scooby Doo 2 - Monsters Unleashed star could never quite hack the rigors of devising intricate storylines for McMahon's chemically enhanced army of face-sitting leotard-warriors. Either way, there's no denying the professional sport has lost one of its great ringwriters. Keep plugging away, Freddie. We need voices like yours on the mats.

• Backstage News On Prinze Leaving: Was He The Leak? [24wrestling.com]

The endorsements were the first things to go—never before had a simple milk mustache given off such foamy-mouthed menace. The next logical thing to fall was the singer's acting career.

Brown was wisely easing himself into Hollywood. First came a recurring role as a band geek on The O.C., followed by small parts in Stomp the Yard and This Christmas. Most recently, he had completed filming on Bone Deep. A mid-budget heist drama with a porny title, Deep boosted Brown's marquee value with a supporting role alongside T.I.—unlike Brown, the rare pop star who can actually act. But the part didn't require Brown to carry the movie, or even be particularly good: Its more experienced stars—Paul Walker and Hayden Christensen—would do the heavy lifting, their combined, unidimensional-actorbot talents sure to render Brown's line-readings relatively nuanced by comparison.

The film's marketers have a bit of dilemma on their hands, as Brown—who, let's face it, was cast to sell tickets to fans—is now weapons-grade box office poison. Hip-hip blog Woooha is floating the logical rumor that distributor Sony Screen Gems is scrambling to "erase" him from all movie poster, trailer and TV ads, though he'll remain in the final cut.

Above, watch a E! News segment highlighting Brown's Bone Deep involvement that aired just days before the Grammy Night of Infamy. Coming at us "guns blazin', gangsta-style," there was little hint that "juggling music, acting, and Rihanna" would soon result in the show-stopping tumbling of all three.

• Chris Brown film career in jeopardy; "erased" from new movie [woooha.com]

Milk screenwriter Dustin Lance Black's acceptance speech provided the most vivid example of the latter: A tearful testimony of what it meant to live life openly as a gay man, it ended with comforting reassurance to the millions of fledgling gay boys—and smattering of girls—out there in the Oscars audience. Echoing a similar Harvey Milk speech that inspired Black himself to come out of the closet, the writer promised these bullied Beyoncé fans that they too have worth, and will one day escape the small towns in which they're trapped (whether by wheelchair, or some other, less literal-minded literary device).

Beautiful, right? Surely a sentiment with universal appeal, and one that would bring a tear to even the most child-blindingest of Mumbai slumlords. That is, if it hadn't been edited out of India's Oscars broadcast. A tipster writes:

It is my understanding that Dustin Lance Black's acceptance speech was edited for the rebroadcast of the Oscars in India such that the mention of being gay was removed. The actual broadcast began at 630a.m., so it's aired in real time and also taped and rebroadcast later in the day. My source for the info saw both broadcasts of his acceptance speech, so there you are.

If that's true, it's an unconscionable act of censorship and a giant step backwards for what was touted as the most global Oscars in history. We mean, how would they like it if every time A. R. Rahman or an adorable Slumdog Millionaire orphan took to the stage to praise their country and culture, The Abbey's Official Viewing Party cut to more "acceptable" footage of Baz Luhrmann mouthing the words to his big musical number?

Variety reports the director—an unabashedly quirky filmmaker whose lo-fi, kinetic visual flourishes have influenced everything from Coke commercials to Oscar opening numbers—will be taking over. What does that portend for the project? Look for Hornet to sacrifice Chow's jokey, action-heavy Hong Kong cinema aesthetic, replaced instead by Gondry's decidedly more meta flights of fancy. His touch could ultimately prove to make all the difference in bringing some of the script's more static scenes alive, however, such as when the Hornet kicks back with a bowl of Funyuns next to bong-hogging sidekick Kato, the two unmotivated crime-fighters giggling hysterically at a Sweded version of their own misadventures.

• Michel Gondry set for 'Green Hornet' [Variety]

Let's face it—we've all had better years. First Ledger. Then Loki. Now this. But tonight, we're going to ask you to forget all your troubles, forget all your cares, and instead let quintuple-threat host Hugh Jackman —acting, singing, dancing, improv-comedy and puppetry of penis, for those keeping score at home—whisk Oscars' legendary audience of one billion viewers (accurate to within plus-or-minus 989 million) to a happy place, if only for four interminable hours. Enough preamble! Let's get on with the show.

As always, updates will appear magically directly beneath us.

9:02 Okay, guys. That's that! I hope you had a good time. And I just want to thank you all for four amazing years at Defamer. It's been an experience I will never forget.

Abramovitch, out.

8:54 WINNER: BEST PICTURE, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. We'll need an intern to confirm this, but we believe that's the brownest-looking Oscars stage we've ever seen. Fox spent their travel budget well—those smiling kids' faces are being beamed around the planet, and should be good for undoing some of that monkey-cartoon bad press. Right, Rupe?

8:52 Is it just us or is Spielberg styling his hair to look a bit like he's wearing Mickey Mouse ears now? Way to suck up to the new boss!

8:43 You bet your fucking ass I'm a Commie homo-loving son of a gun. WHOO! NO ON PROP 8! YES ON HARVEY MILK! YES ON SEAN PENN! YES ON VAN SANT! Dustin Lance Black's face says it all.

8:41 YAYYYYY. WINNER: SEAN PENN, MILK. We've never been happier to be wrong. Ugh, sorry Mick. That tiny Chihuahua tuxedo just got 300% sadder.

8:39 We are genuinely in suspense for the first time in three-and-three-quarters hours. CALL IT. NOW. WHO? UGGGGGGH WHOOOOOO. We say Mickey. There. It's locked in, Regis.

8:32 This is Kate's moment. In the coming days, this speech will be dissected and overanalyzed, but after one listen, we're going to give her high marks for keeping it together, seemingly genuinely humbled, and not making it all about herself. And only two bad jokes—the "well, it's not a shampoo bottle, now!" crack (and actually, it is—go ahead, unscrew Oscar's head, Kate. Garnier Fructis) and the Meryl Streep "suck it up, Meryl—you know it's true" goddess line. In fact, can we retire the word "goddess" from award ceremonies forever? We'll literally take anything else. "Lunchlady." That works. "Look at you all—I just can't believe I'm the company of five lunchladies like yourselves. I'm not worthy." Yeah, that works.

8:28 Winner: BEST ACTRESS, KATE WINSLET. As the audience leaps to their feet, Angelina Jolie orders an unconscious Brad Pitt to "stand up."

HarveyScoreBoardWatch: 2 for 7.

8:23 The ActorTron 2000 spits out five more amazingly well-preserved Academy Award winners. Marion Cotillard decides to forgo the prepared statements about Kate Winslet, instead choosing to express her awe with her contemporary's gifts by luring a young goat onto the stage by rope, slitting its throat, and letting its sacrificial blood drench the intimately placed front row.

8:19 Jerri Blank says: "I got something to say. I've got something to say. BEST DIRECTOR, DANNY BOYLE, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE." David Fincher punches a seat-filler in the chest out of excitement for his lauded peer. Boyle's boyish enthusiasm is infectious, even when he spaced on crediting his choreographer. Oops!

8:16 Apparently Reese Witherspoon was mugged by Jerri Blank backstage, who then slipped into her gown and trotted out to announce the Best Director nominees.

8:09 The In Memoriam segment finally enters the HD era. We begin with Cyd Charisse—begin scoring your 'In Memoriam' Oscar Montage Pool accordingly. The Grieve-O-Meter seems to be functioning, with the needle flipping right towards the end with Sydney Pollack, Paul Newman. WHERE'S HEATH? He was squeezed in last year, but is there some Academy law about not double-dipping? He died in January 22, 2008. Also—no George Carlin. And Charlton Heston barely registered with the audience.

But wait—no George Carlin?! That's an outrage! Oscar controversy!!!

8:04 Can we just say the Japanese directors are totally stealing the show? Even if they don't quote Styx. In the evening's first upset (sort of—we're trying to keep this interesting), BEST FOREIGN FILM goes to DEPARTURES, not Waltz with Bashir.

8:02 Hugh Jackman reappears after a one-hour break. (Apparently he refused to leave his dressing room when he was informed by producers he couldn't be incorporated into the "Jai-Ho" choreographed narrative.)

7:55 John Legend performs Peter Gabriel's "Down to Earth" (Gabriel refused to perform an excerpt), and the Academy Bolly-Hop Dancers come out for some fierce backup on Rahman's "Jai-Ho," his second win for BEST SONG. Rahman is totally this year's Three 6 Mafia. Let's hope he doesn't spend the rest of the night dry-humping Paris Hilton at Prince's after-after-party.

7:49 An insomnia-curing medley of best scores results in WINNER, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE's A.R. Rahman bringing down the house with a prepared bit about his wife, followed by a slow burn that would make Jack Benny envious. Just kidding—that was really awkward. Rahman redeems himself by throwing off his Nehru jacket, displaying a surprisingly ripped physique, and launching into song.

7:39 Eddie Murphy mends fences with the Academy long enough to speed-read through his presentation of the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award to Jerry Lewis. Jerry offers his breathless thanks, and manages to leave without turning to a band member on the stage to ask him how his "faygeleh son is doing in nursing school."

7:32 WINNER: BEST EDITING, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE, bringing its total to three. We hope that's the last we'll see of Will, but there's always the chance he might show up in an ad for Jimmy Kimmel Live!.

7:20 An well-Jheri curled Will Smith appears to present the technical awards. WINNERS: ACHIEVEMENT IN VISUAL EFFECTS, BENJAMIN BUTTON. SOUND EDITING, THE DARK KNIGHT. SOUND MIXING, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE.

7:12 WINNER: BEST DOCUMENTARY, MAN ON WIRE. Tightrope-walker extraordinaire Philippe Petit genuinely thrills the audience by balancing his overturned Oscar on his chin—a feat he'll later recreate at the Governor's Ball using Jeffrey Katzenberg.

7:09 Werner Herzog prevents the Documentary Yearbook from getting too maudlin, ending a trenchant observation about the power of non-fiction films to change the world by holding two thumbs up and shouting, "And check out Bad Lieutenant when it comes out—if you love action, it's gonna blow your mind!"

7:08 WINNER: BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR, HEATH LEDGER, THE DARK KNIGHT. Phew.

7:07 The reverent speeches for Best Supporting Actor take an uncomfortable turn when Cuba Gooding Jr., currently finishing up on the straight-to-Flopz original Boat Trip 2: Wedding Belles, can't help but mask his frustration over the more successful dude playing the dudes disguised as the other dudes that he'd rather be playing. Yes, we're drunk.

6:53 Wow. Baz Luhrmann just mounted the worst Oscar number since this disaster. It was like something you'd see on a cruise ship hosting the AVN Awards.

6:46 Ah, the Judd Apatow sequence: The Oscars go pot-humor for the very first time—to spectacular effect, climaxing in Janusz Kaminski climbing between Seth Rogen and James Franco for a round of Oscar-assisted couch-skiing. Filthy.

6:35 Winner: ANTHONY DOD MANTLE, BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. Someone just pointed out that Danny Boyle is like a muppet Morrissey on anti-depressants. We couldn't agree more.

6:34 For some reason they're allowing Natalie Portman to present with her ex-boyfriend, Devendra Bernhardt.

6:32 I've just been informed that the term "montage" has been banished to the far reaches of the dusty Oscar netherverse, replaced instead by "yearbook." Which is apparently a far more encompassing term that allows Disney/Summit/Universal to shove their product right into the broadcast!

6:25 Robert Pattinson and Amanda Seyfried share a rare stage chemistry we'd define as...umm....non-existent. Yes! That's it exactly. Also: His hair grows supernaturally fast. Our bubbe once warned us about people like that. She said they're vampires.

Here's a look at the crowd during Andrew Stanton's acceptance speech. How many people can you count: 1) sleeping, 2) fantasizing about suicide, 3) contemplating life in a beanie?

6:17 We need to play quick catchup: LA MAISON EN PETITS CUBES, BEST ANIMATED SHORT. Director Kunio Kato quotes Styx, making him a man after our own heart. ACHIEVEMENT IN ART DIRECTION, BENJAMIN BUTTON. ACHIEVEMENT IN COSTUME DESIGN, THE DUCHESS. ACHIEVEMENT IN MAKEUP, BENJAMIN BUTTON.

6:05 Can we just say how satisfying it is to see Space Chimps represented in that animation montage, set to music apparently composed by a 13-year-old boy from Okinawa.

6:04 JenniferLina CatfightWatch: Jennifer Aniston moves from stage right to center stage—withing queef distance of Angelina Jolie. WINNER: WALL-E, BEST ANIMATED PICTURE.. Aniston is quickly whisked off the stage by a stagehand who looks suspiciously like the one who worked on The Jerry Springer Show.

6:00 WINNER: SIMON BEAUFOY, BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE.
HarveyScoreBoardWatch: 1 for 2.

5:57 WINNER: DUSTIN LANCE BLACK, BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY, MILK. Omigod, this is definitely the first person who goes to our gym to ever win an Oscar. We've totally used the pec dec after him! Beautiful speech about equal marriage rights, which is something we strongly back—what with us being gay and lonely.

5:54 Things turn up with the appearance of Liz Lemon and Gavin Volure, both of whom seem to be adjusting well to yet another away-toilet situation. An extremely cool effect is employed to show middle-America how words turn into movies.

5:48 First winner! PENELOPE CRUZ, BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS, VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA. She's been given 45 seconds, presumably because it took 23 minutes to read the nominees. A man just yelled out to interrupt her!

HarveyScoreBoardWatch: 1 for 1.

5:45 Five former Best Supporting Actress winners are beamed down via magic LCD screen, and each introduces one nominee. For quite some time. Are they going to do this for every category? Yup, they sure are going into detail. This kind of feels like the rehearsal dinner in Rachel Getting Married.

5:39 This just texted in from STV VanAirsdale via Defamer SMS satellite feed: "OK that was fucking awesome." That's what three extra drinking hours get you.

5:38 What did a Holocaust drama have to do with the Dutch Olympic luge team?

5:35 Hugh has now mentioned Craigslist and pubic hair in the space of two stanzas. We're glad he's sticking to his comfort zone.

5:32 Jackman is disappointingly dressed, and sober. Here comes the first number! It's ghetto—but jokily so. That doesn't make it any less uncomfortable.

5:30 AAAAAAGGGGGGH SWAROVSKIIIII. WE'RE BLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND.

5:27 An old-timey newsreel explains exactly what production designer David Rockwell was trying to do with the set, just in case the sight of a full band on the stage sends you into fits of confused convulsions, leading you to throw a small child or glass ashtray into your flatscreen TV.

5:21 Jack Black's wife seemed utterly enchanted by the stranger with the microphone, didn't she? Cagle then asks Seth Rogen, Leslie Mann, and Judd Apatow who they'd save if there was a massive earthquake that killed everyone during the broadcast. That's a festive stumper! The fun's already started.

5:13 Viola Davis just fulfilled her Whole Foods Stress Tabs shout-out duties. Unfortunately, she was supposed to mention Airborne. No million bucks for you! (But free salad bar for life.)

5:11 Wow, Jess—way to shit the bed on the Robert Downey Jr. interview. Yes, that's his date. Otherwise known as his wife, Deborah Falconer Susan Levin. Don't you run a magazine with Entertainment in the name or something? (Don't look at us, we don't work anywhere.)

5:10 Mickey Rourke had a tuxedo made for Loki. That is just about the saddest thing we've heard all day. (Okay, second-saddest.) Wait—wasn't Loki a girl? Enh, Celine got away with it. Wait—no she didn't.

5:09 Surprise Alert! In place of Oscar statuettes, all winners in acting categories will be given an adorable, poop-dipped Slumdog Millionaire orphan.

5:05 Tim Gunn drapes Brangelina in yards of shameless sycophancy.

5:04 We don't know how ABC managed to score Jess Cagle for red-carpet duty, but all we can say is—we're dazzled. The surprises have begun already!

5:02 You know, without being shown who's speaking, Robin Roberts could be Mr. Jay's voice double.

As a result, Defamer is being absorbed into the company's power-crazed flagship title. Defamer posts will now appear under http://defamer.com/, while simultaneously feeding into the Gawker homepage.

Gawker's managing editor Gabriel Snyder, a former West Coaster who covered Hollywood for Variety and W, will oversee the transition. As for your trusty Defamer team, we've opted to explore new horizons. Stv, Kyle, the McCluskey Twins, and myself will be here through the remainder of the week. Watch this space for exciting announcements on what's to come.

Questions? Observations? Muffled sobs? Leave them in the comments. Media inquiries: Ask Mr. Denton directly. (Read his take here.) Gawker is hiring someone to cover Hollywood gossip. Applications, and all other matters, to Gabriel.

We now encourage you to get your Oscar drinking on early, in anticipation of our liveblog at 8 p.m. EST / 5 p.m. PST. It seemed a timely and fittingly spectacular way to go out—by plunging the illustrious trophy into my gut head-first, in one final, savage act of Hollywood harakiri.

- Seth

From a CNN interview:

CNN: How daring is it going to be? Will there be YouTube moments where people will be talking about the Oscars this year after it happens?

Jackman: One of my favorite moments at the Oscars was when the streaker came across David Niven. And we're upping it a level and we're just going to do most of the show naked. Um, well, there hopefully will be YouTube moments.

CNN: "The sexiest man alive" [is] going to be up there nude?

Jackman: Drunk and nude, yes. So that's our new fresh approach. It's the Australian way.

Another secret: The typical bathroom-break category Best Animated Short will be the breathtaking showstopper of the evening, when Jackman introduces each nominee employing his hidden skills as a masterly puppeteer of the penis. And yes, it will be projected on a giant LCD screen.

• Hugh Jackman ready to be 'drunk and nude' at the Oscars [CNN]

Today, we bring you Milkyrie—described by its makers as "Milk meets Valkyrie. Deal with it." Yes, they've gone and done it: With the help of an all-the-rage time-travel plot device, they've transposed late-70s Castro with late-WW2 Berlin, and let the two film's various heroes, anti-heroes, ruthless dictators, and tenaciously gayfro'd campaign managers mingle in a Milk-Nazi smoothie. Does it make sense? No. Did we laugh? Yes. Particularly when Cleve Jones assured Col. von Stauffenberg, "I don't do...losing."

Via Empire, we bring you three one-sheets from the Basterds marketing campaign, which has rejected the obvious tagline of "Nein Nein Nein Nein!" if favor of the less Hitler-tantrumy, "Once upon a time in Nazi occupied France." (The grammar Nazis in us would point out that there should be a hyphen in there, but we're happy with our scalps where they are.) We love a good fairytale!

• Exclusive: Inglourious Basterds Posters [Empire]

TMZ paparazzi captured The Wrestler star emerging from his West Village lodgings, then followed him to a tanning salon/Brazilian waxing/staple-removal studio for a beautification regimen not unlike the one his character Randy "The Ram" undergoes in the film. He emerges a little later to the applause of appreciative fans wishing him best of luck, offering yet further echoes of The Wrestler, and we thought the moment could really benefit from the melancholic Americana of Bruce Springsteen's title song. Thanks to Gawker's Mike Byhoff, our dream became a reality. Enjoy.

• Mickey Grieves Dead Dogs, Tans His Hide [TMZ]

The last we left the sprawling space opera that is SAG Wars, rebel leader Doug Allen had been overthrown by his own men, replaced by senior adviser John McGuire as chief negotiator. Saddest SAG Prez in the Universe Alan Rosenberg then mounted an unsuccessful legal bid to prevent the moderate mutineers from resuming talks with the evil producing overlords of the AMPTP. Over Justine Bateman's tweeted objections, new talks were set for this week. They were supposed to settle everything.

They settled nothing.

[T]he majors and the Screen Actors Guild broke off three days of talks late Thursday with the congloms issuing a take-it-or-leave-it "last, best and final" offer.

The talks fell apart over SAG's insistence that a new feature-primetime deal had to expire on June 30, 2011 - meaning that the deal would last only two years and three months.

For its part, the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers insisted that the new deal has to last a full three years. And the congloms also announced their new offer could be withdrawn in 60 days.

The deal fell apart over a matter of nine months, or the difference between beginning the contract when the last one expired (what the actors want), or starting it from right now (what the producers want). SAG's concern is that the new expiration date will put them too far away from the expiration of the new WGA and DGA contracts in 2012, which could weaken them strategically come time to negotiate again. The producers wouldn't budge, but offered to begin negotiations for their next contract (ooh fun! More negotiations!) early enough to get them back in sync with the other unions. SAG has two months to accept the offer, which seems to us a ridiculous long window, during which continued internecine fighting could reduce their membership to a bloody pile of random limbs. Perhaps that's the idea.

As always, the winner here is AFTRA, who are dominating 50 of the 70-plus broadcast pilots ordered this season—a shift that pushes the industry further into the realm of digital production. (AFTRA contracts specify actors cannot perform on film.) Warm up the Thesbot. The end is nigh.

• SAG talks break down [Variety]
• Smaller actors union takes center stage for pilots [THR]

· Can't wait for Watchmen to glimpse some computer-generated wang? Then get a load of GTA4: Lost And Damned Mr. Stubbs. [via 1Up]
· If you meant to see Fireproof, Kirk Cameron's $33.5 million-earning firemen-and-faith movie, but never got around to it, here's some highlights, beginning with an uplifting scene in which Kirk finally tells off his nag of a wife.
· People talked to most adorable Top Chef contestant of all time Fabio Viviani, who was [SPOILER ALERT!] eliminated on last night's episode. They do an admirable job of preserving his broken English. Sniff. We love you, Fabio.
· J.D. Fortune, winner of Rock Star: INXS, toured with the band for 23 months, then was unceremoniously fired at a Hong Kong airport. He's now living in a car, which if you aren't aware, is one step away from homeless.
· The Oscars secret is out, and it's three little words that will blow your minds: Hugh. Jackman. Blingees.
· American Idol's soulful griever Danny Gokey beat out Tatiana, the most loathed Idol contestant in history, to advance to the top 12. But watch out Gokey: Adam Lambert is coming, and Cher's "Believe" isn't the only trick up his sleeve.

· Folk legend Joan Baez plays Royce Hall.
· Spring Awakening composer Duncan Sheik plays The Echoplex, with Lauren Pritchard, who played Ilse in the Broadway production.

From as best as we can make out, Rodman loses it in the middle of a challenge (perhaps mounting a charity auction for Baron von Trump's wealthy nursery classmates?), towering over team-leader Black and bellowing, "Fuck this bullshit! You think you did fucking right, bro? Aw, fuck you, man. Fuck you!" as a small puddle gathers circumference beneath the country singer's feet. Rodman then stomps out of the room, a gesture of defiance sure to displease the toddler Trump at that evening's board room, who'll toss an apple juice drinkin' box at the recalcitrant contestant's head in disgust. [YouTube]

The last time we saw flirtation this shameless, Kevin Spacey was making his waiter repeat the specials on his lap. Watch as the blushing country singer fiddles with the host's tie, giggles uncontrollably at his every witticism, and marvels at how effortlessly he finishes her sentences. Ferguson—a married man—only encourages her with his seductive brogue and shameless innuendo. Jimmy Fallon, we'd love to tell you this is how it's done, but unless you want a hasty d-i-v-o-r-c-e, we'd throw some cold water on Van Morrison before things get out of hand.

Bonus flirtation:


[Late Late Show]