· The last week before the Oscars, and so much yet to do! We've got to stalk Zac Efron's seat in the big blue Kodak Theater! We have to fill out our In Memoriam montage ballots! We have to get our party-crashing schedule in order! And in the end, it won't even be the show we dream of. Stupid Oscars.

· It was skeeviness as usual this week in the Chris Brown/Rihanna saga. Then someone leaked a photo.

· We presume that if and/or when Jimmy Kimmel grows balls and cuts Nightline's throat, we'll honor him with a commemorative late-night montage of his own.

· Formula for determining Kate Winslet's odds of winning an Oscar: (Number of nude scenes in nominated film) / (number of years her toughest competition has been acting). Doesn't look too good.

· Now hiring: ABC's art department. Must know Photoshop, but only barely.

· If you're an auction hound who likes bidding on things like Oscar junk or Michael Jackson's portraits of Albert Einstein, it was your lucky week!

· Contrary to convention, the people behind Watchmen absolutely do want you to try Billy Crudup's magical blue wang stunts at home.

· Which doesn't mean that Watchmen is any good, of course. Public Enemies on the other hand... And don't even get us started about the promised masterpiece that is What What (In the Butt) — The Movie.

· Tragedy struck Mickey Rourke when his beloved chihuahua Loki died, relegating him to the least interesting Oscar date possible. But! If his sense of spontaneity and adventure strikes, Vegas may let him borrow Natalia Montalvo for a night.

· And as if Loki's death weren't bad enough, 97.1 kicked the bucket today as well. We hate to think these waves come in threes — what could possibly be next?

· The ugly Chris Brown-Rihanna saga broke last weekend, blew up all week, spawned the text-message mystery of the young year and will apparently be settled by Jay-Z. Any questions?
· Mickey Rourke may show up stag and guzzle awards-show Champagne from the bottle these days, but we prefer to remember the good old baby-faced brooder days.
· Joaquin Phoenix's Two Lovers director regretfully confessed to greasing his star's slippery slope into the Letterman Celebrity Grinder.
· What's the only thing that could enliven Slumdog Millionaire's BAFTA monopoly? A hungry Sharon Stone cougar attack on its star, natch.
· This week in untoward liaisons: Madonna and Jesus. Salma Hayek and an African baby. Craigslisters and at least one Disney or Warners exec.
· Sure, TV on the Radio sounded rotten on SNL. But at least Radiohead and the USC Marching Band didn't kick their asses at the Grammys.
· Hey — Observe and Report looks pretty good! Inglourious Basterds looks... not terrible! And then there's Osbournes Reloaded. Watch at your own risk.
· Tough talent decisions gave American Idol's judges fits, but at least everyone can agree on the exquisite taste of Paula Abdul's new skull-plate jewelry.
· ABC experienced some turnover — Katherine Heigl (maybe) and Nicollette Sheridan are out, Bob Fosse and Martha Graham are in.
· Oprah Winfrey added Dr. Oz and Gwyneth Paltrow to her mortal-enemies list.
· Mike White traveled the world with his father on The Amazing Race and lived to tell — us!

· How do you like your Christian Bale Meltdown of the Century: Straight, or with a few delicious mixers?
· Oh, and one more fun fact to add to your pocket guide to Bale-provoking cinematographer Shane Hurlbut: He's a light-tweaking douche.
· Between the movie spots, the porn, and Bruce Springsteen's crotch, America got its fill of Super Bowl XLIII.
· Ben Lyons's umbrella wasn't quite big enough to keep Benjamin Button dry during an unseasonably harsh hate storm.
· Entering the stretch run, Mickey Rourke's Oscar campaign continued its usual one-step-forward, two-steps-back pace.
· Which was still better than Miley Cyrus, who perfected her own zero-steps-forward, two-steps-back awards-season technique.
· Neither Isla Fisher nor Bikini Girl could catch a break.
· We'd dispatch million-dollar mall cop Paul Blart to resolve this Push squabble between Lionsgate and the Weinsteins, but now we're not so sure we can trust him either.
· Just when we thought all hope was lost, Jude Law came along and dazzled us in drag. We owe him one.
· Vivica A. Fox sure was some fairweather Psychic Friend.

· Someone pushed pretty awards princess Slumdog Millionaire into the Oscar-latrine shit-pile.
· Meanwhile, Milk gathered steam, partially at the unfortunate, Fatone-y expense of James Franco.
· Q: Hey, SAG president Alan Rosenberg! Do you know your union is so utterly fucked that even Justine Bateman can't remain quiet any longer? A: Know it? Hell, I wrote it!
· If Jacksonville had just had an Easter Beary hanging around its American Idol auditions, everyone would have been so, so much happier.
· Sadly, Mickey Rourke's thrilling extracurricular wrestling exploits — from WrestleMania 25 to Evan Rachel Wood's tongue — were refuted and denied.
· Wow, Sly Stallone — what's your nutrition secret? Oh. Never mind.
· In semi-related news, lean Green Hornet jiltee Seth Rogen probably won't succeed Jessica Simpson as the spokesperson for the Speedfit™.
· Elsewhere in Oscar prophecy: Benjamin Button. 0-for-13. Take it to the bank.
· On the occasion of Bart Simpson pimping Scientology and the Olsens' star being vandalized, officials confirmed that in fact nothing is sacred.
· You have to admit: The boys from Kris Kross did inherit their mother's eyes.

· The Golden Globes were great and everything, but what do they mean? And will Darren Aronofsky get to keep his finger when the FCC is done with it?
· So you might have heard we're going to Sundance. If you happen to be there and can't find a film to buy, just feel free to order us 750,000 drinks.
· SAG's chief negotiator survived a bloody coup in the ongoing Labor Soap Opera of the Century.
· Kate Winslet's breasts landed on Oprah Winfrey's good side. Doubt director John Patrick Shanley, not so much.
· Glenn Close was cited on charges of lewd and lascivious acts with the Walk of Fame.
· The Olsen Twins approve of Tyler Perry's latest ad campaign.
· A haunted Whitney Port recovered after Mother Nature's withering assault on her bikini.
· Hey, Boss — the plane! Uh, Boss? Boss!

· The Jett Travolta tragedy unfolded with too much information and, mere hours later, not enough. Then, right on cue, Lisa Marie Presley cleared everything up.
· This Week in Awards Hell: Bashir stunned WALL-E. The PGA boosted. The WGA snubbed. The DGA sleepwalked. The people spoke (drunkenly). And Dakota Fanning became an Honorary Sista.
· We also celebrated the Listys, a two-part ceremony honoring film criticism's most illustrious and/or incomprehensible Top 10 lists.
· While Lisa Rinna chatted us up about the Golden Globes, the founder of the Razzies explained his awards' baffling Spirit snub.
· Relationships imploded for juggsy clairvoyants, Lindsay Lohan (we think), and the unfortunate son of trigger-happy chopper mom Mrs. B.
· Boy! That saucy Josh Brolin sure knows how to party, doesn't he?
· Jeremy Piven SushiGate worsened this week with his ill-conceived visit to The View and rumors of a lawsuit. Meanwhile, his aggrieved Speed the Plow producers shocked the Broadway establishment by casting Terry Bradshaw in Piven's old role.
· Weary Barbara Walters resolved to be nice to her View co-hosts in 2009. That could have gone better.
· Patrick Swayze might not be as ill as you thought. Michael Jackson, on the other hand...
· MTV Exec #1: "So, get anything nice for the holidays?" MTV Exec #2: "Eh, the usual. A box of shit. You?"

· We remembered 2008: The videos. The passings. The politics. The hits. The favorites. And Viggo Mortensen couldn't buy a break. Seriously, thank God that's over.
· Kathy Griffin prepared for her New Year's heckler meltdown as anyone might: By having a word with Defamer.
· James Cialella — Benjamin Button shooter and American hero.
· Under no circumstances did Promises admit Tara Reid as part of a "buy four rehab stints, get your fifth one free" program.
· It's always the geek children who get hurt when their studio parents clash.
· The much-awaited collaboration between Steven Spielberg and Diablo Cody went about as well as could be expected. On the bright side, we can always fall back on Bromance.
· But the collaboration between Spielberg and Andy Warhol? That's entertainment.
· Kirk Cameron was the leading man in 2008's biggest indie hit. And he didn't even need to chase a stupid, money-crapping dog to do it.
· Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick were discovered to have fallen prey to alleged Ponzi schemer Bernie Madoff. But it could be worse: They could be repped by Dane Cook's brother.
· Pssst, buddy — wanna buy a gossip blog?

· Our season was rich with holiday bounties: Fruity Efron. Half-dressed, all-smashed Anna Nicole family Christmases. Mary-Kate Olsen's discount shopping tips. And, for the culturewatcher who has everything, Defamer Claus's indispensable last-minute gift guide.
· SAG blinked.
· Jeremy Piven SushiGate continued this week as audiences and castmates alike revolted against the star's suspicious Broadway exit. And just in case his mercury-poisoning excuse is legit, the makers of that toxic WALL-E bento box have just the remedy.
· Elisabeth Hasselbeck needed a full year to accomplish the kind of View notoriety that Andy Dick achieved in one musical segment.
· Fill in the blank: Jennifer Aniston has had more baby food slathered on her than _______.
· If Scarlett Johansson's efforts at Kleenex philanthropy are too rich and/or intimate for your blood, try out Michael Bay's cheaper, awesomer variation on charity.
· The existence of a werewolf-chic drama named Bitches could only distract us so long from the shock of Robert Pattinson cutting his hair.
· The bad news: You won't be seeing a new Narnia film any time soon. The good news: You can always check out Howard the Duck free on Hulu. Or maybe it's good news, bad news. We can no longer be sure.
· Sorry, Kate Winslet, but frankly, The Reader is not the film you should be defending against rape charges right about now.
· Matthew McConaughey's advice for those viewers critically ill from overexposure to his romantic comedies? Just keep livin', of course.

· Going once! Going twice! And Scarlett Johanssen's snot-saturated Kleenex is sold to the anonymous fucking freak over there behind the computer.
· Of all the crazy things Tom Cruise has read about himself on the Internet, at least he didn't get caught up in Nicole Kidman's utterly horrifying didgeridoo-blowing scandal.
· This Week in Hardware: Heath won (again). Miley and Mariah inched closer to Oscar. Chicago worshipped Wall-E. And Kate Hudson needs a new agent.
· Cinema may never see another star-studded box-office failure the likes of Delgo. Buy your commemorative posters here.
· Worst Week went to sitcom heaven, Anthony Pellicano went to prison, and Sam Bottoms caught the perfect celestial wave.
· The increasingly divisive SAG labor battle now has its own holiday greeting cards available. One condition: You can't send them to AFTRA members.
· Your Broadway astrology report: Mercury is rising in the House of Piven. Mamet is in retrograde.
· The whore-plagued bachelors of Momma's Boys sure could use a yentazilla like Ellen DeGeneres right about now.
· Jennifer Aniston went the necktie-bribery route to avoid any heinous Marley & Me spoilers on The Late Show.
· When the apocalypse finally comes to NBC, is there any doubt that the unkillable Jay Leno will be nibbling off the carcesses of Jeff Zucker and Ben Silverman?
· We published a photograph of Scott Caan's junk. Don't mention it.