Helen Mirren is 63, and looks 500 times better in a bikini than Paris Hilton, not to mention the rest of humanity.

Thank you, Daily Mail, and you're welcome, Charles.

MURRIETA, Calif. (AP) - Comedian Andy Dick has been arrested in Riverside County for investigation of drug use and sexual battery. The Sheriff's Department says Dick, 42, was arrested shortly before 2 a.m., Wednesday July 16th, in the parking lot near the Buffalo Wild Wings Grill & Bar in Murrieta. Details were not released. The former co-star of the TV sitcom "NewsRadio" is being held on $5,000 bail.

So raves Slog tipper Nicholas, who writes:

A friend captured Dina Martina riding a bike in P-Town! How funny would it be to see her on a bicycle?!

Find out the answer here. (And God bless you, Nicholas.)

The Huffington Post has a story up right now titled "Stephen Baldwin on Fox News: If Obama Wins, I'll Leave the Country." Huffpo neglected to mention the fact that Baldwin's fingers were crossed as he made his oath.

Stephen Baldwin is famously born-again Christian, and he's also a conservative. This video is appalling in several ways, but it's also tremendously, unintentionally entertaining. I knew it before, but I never had proof: Stephen Baldwin is an idiot. My favorite part is about a half-minute before the end, where he affirmed that people saying that McCain would be another four years of Bush is "the most stupidest thing I ever heard of." This is probably the most entertaining thing that Baldwin will appear in all year:

While perusing the photographs from the recent Paris men's fashion shows, I was pleased to see one of our own Capitol Hillbillies attractively hauling thousands of dollars of menswear down the runway. That would be Lars. Here he is for Junya Watanabe last week.

The outfit looks a little too Li'l Abner for me, but I'd wear the pants and the hat.

He didn't win one for Brokeback Mountain—and poor Jake wasn't even nominated (anti-bottom bias!)—but after watching the preview for The Dark Knight, I leaned over to my boyfriend and whispered, "Heath Ledger will be nominated for an Oscar for his Joker, and this time he'll win." I repeated my prediction that night in front of a half-a-dozen witnesses at dinner. But, damn, I didn't toss it up on Slog right away—so I'm not for the first to get online with this. But I called it first—I have witnesses!

The Huffington Post reports that "talkmeister" Larry King's "stunning TV-personality wife," Shawn Southwick King, has allegedly gone into rehab for addiction to painkillers that have been prescribed for her migraines. King recently released a country album titled "In My Own Back Yard."

Those who read my feature this week know that I wrote about seeing Larry King's family in their natural habitat in, well, their own back yard:

King, as dry and shriveled as a gremlin, walks across the lawn and stands by the pool, next to his sixth wife and his two young sons, Chance and Cannon. He starts off, as all public speakers have been taught, with a joke. He mentions the age difference between him and his wife: King, who is 74, says that people ask him if the fact that his wife is only 48 worries him. Not at all, King says: "If she dies, she dies." The crowd ripples with the kind of laughter that you get when you make a joke about your wife dying. One of the little boys gets a frightened look on his face. King puts a comforting hand on his son's head and says, "I was just kidding. It was just a joke."

It's really weird, on a personal level, to read on a news site that a woman you've recently seen in a dysfunctional family interaction has gone into rehab.

My parents had George Carlin's "Class Clown" album on eight-track tape, and the kids were forbidden to listen to it—which, of course, made it irresistible.

Don't watch, just listen.

It is my sad duty to inform you that the dread Spears Gene—a faulty allele associated with unabashed white-trashness, exhibitionistic sluttery, and vile, gum-smacking republican tendencies—has scored yet another Darwinian triumph:

People and Us Weekly are reporting that Jamie Lynn Spears has given birth to a baby girl.

This tragic news has, of course, been accompanied by massive flooding in the Midwest and a tornado or two, and if Revelations can be trusted (and I'm really beginning to wonder), the wise would do well to prepare for, like, spontaneous rains of toads or some kind of weird shit like that. Wear a hat maybe. Couldn't hurt.

Dead.

When I sent my last post to Amy Kate, I felt better than I had since this whole Slog debacle began. I'd said my piece and was ready to wash my hands of the whole issue. While I don't think of myself as a quitter, it has always been my policy, when I find myself in a shitty situation, to get the fuck out. So that's what I did, and I couldn't have been happier. Maybe I am thin-skinned, but trading insults with strangers has never been my idea of a good time. I am fully aware that for a lot of commenters this is a game. That's fine. It's just not a game I'm interested in playing. Especially since I wasn't getting paid for it.

Until, that is, I got an e-mail from Amy Kate, telling me that none other than Tim Keck was disappointed that I was quitting, and that he would like to up the ante. One dollar for every comment on 'Fuck This, I'm Out' posted before 4 pm... if I was willing to write about how I spent the money. I agreed, and since then have been hitting refresh on the thread, watching the money roll in. I saw a lot of assholes being assholes, and nice people being nice. But what I was really glad to see was people discussing the state of the comments on Slog, which I hoped would happen.

But I digress from the point of this post, which is this:

I win, bitches!

I'll be back next week with how I spent the money. Enjoy your weekend!

The cast for the reality show Celebrity Rehab:

* Rodney King (Police brutality victim)
* Jeff Conoway (Apparently, season one didn't work.)
* Sean Stewart (Rod Stewart's son)
* Amber Smith (model/actress)
* Nikki McKibbon (American Idol)
* Steven Adler (Guns n Roses)
* Tawny Kitaen (Actress)

Is this the first report? Or am I just the last to know? Via Towleroad.

Apparently, you never marry and vow to let your family die with you.

In honor of D-Day, Metafilter dredges up a 2002 book, by David Gardner, about Hitler's American descendants.

Here's a link to Hitler's family tree, where you'll find four grandnephews of Herr Hitler, all born in America: Brian, Howard, Louis, and, um, Alex Adolf.

From a 2002 article by Gardener in the Telegraph:

The faint lilt of German folk music [Christ, Gardener—laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?] floated through the open window of the dark-wood alpine bungalow as I walked down the short path to the front door. The property straddled two small roads on a forested private estate nestling into one of the bays tucked behind slivers of land protecting the New York coastline from the full impact of the Atlantic Ocean.

This was the place where Liverpool-born William Patrick Hitler had chosen to escape from the world.

I was to discover that the Hitler bloodline was carried on through William Patrick's four sons - one of whom died in a road accident in 1989 - and that the brothers had decided in a remarkable pact not to have children themselves in order that Adolf Hitler's genes would die with them.

That's noble of you guys and all, but giving up on the idea of genetic destiny might be an even better way to dishonor your great uncle.

This bad.

Ed McMahon, the longtime sidekick to Johnny Carson on "The Tonight Show," is fighting to avoid foreclosure on his multimillion-dollar Beverly Hills estate.

McMahon defaulted on $4.8 million in mortgage loans with a unit of Countrywide Financial Corp., which filed a notice of default in March, according to ForeclosureRadar, a company that sells default data pulled from public records.

The 85-year-old pitchman for various products, including American Family Publishers, is the highest-profile person to be caught up in the nationwide real estate downturn and mortgage crunch.

...and, as Vanity Fair reports, she may be in a long-term fuck-buddy relationship with Bill Clinton.

Thanks for the heads-up, LA Times Dish Rag.

(Full Vanity Fair story, previously addressed on Slog by Eli Sanders, can be found here.)

I'm on vacation and won't be slogging much this week. Still: What kind of world makes Oscar-winners buy their crack on the street?

What's next? Dianne Wiest busted for public urination?

As if she hasn't suffered enough: Is Lindsey Lohan a... lesbian now?

E! News has the scoop:

Nearly eight months after the duo announced they had separated, actor Dylan McDermott filed for divorce from wife Shiva Rose Friday, citing irreconcilable differences as the reason for the split. According to the petition obtained by E! News, the actual date of separation is listed as March 5, 2007. Interestingly, McDermott, who spent seven years playing lawyer Bobby Donnell on The Practice, is tackling this case "in propria persona." In other words, he's acting as his own attorney.

I fully support this decision, and I know how McDermott feels: Like Lindy West, I've watched enough Law & Order that I'm almost a lawyer, and would love to try my absorbed skills in a courtroom (so long as I didn't draw that butthole Judge Lisa Pongracic..)

A former barista for the small coffee shop chain Starbucks has come forward and admitted to switching whole milk for skim when making caffeine cocktails for the Olsen twins... "The barista thought the Olsens were too thin, so whenever they ordered their usual drink, he would replace the skim milk with full-fat," said a source. What a nefarious, strangely philanthropic plot.

Via Gawker.

This just in from Slog Tipper Marti's Friend, represented by Slog tipper Marti, who writes:

My friend spotted Larry Flynt (eew!) at Purple Cafe and Wine Bar this past Friday. Apparently he rolled in in golden wheelchair—gold wheels, gold spokes—I guess the whole thing was gold. But it wasn't hopped up, electrically—some guy was just pushing it, old-style. Exciting shit.

P.S. Minutes before I received this tip, Flynt had just come up in a conversation I was having about, uh, this, with my lawyer friend saying the First Amendment would likely protect the gross parodists of saintly Dolly just as it protected the gross parodists of that fucker Falwell. Stupid fairness.

I vaguely remember mentioning something about a “Charlize Theron” person that is scheduled to be, as those of us “in the business” are fond of saying, “on the red carpet” at SIFF’s always uber-glam Opening Night (May 22nd! I’m already drunk!). And goodness knows that that’s just exciting as all hell. I also think I said something about Stuart Townsend’s abs, and about how he and/or they will be “red carpeting”, too. (OMG! Just LOOK at the boner that man gives me!) But what I don’t vaguely remember telling you, because I vaguely remember just finding out about it two fucking seconds ago myself, is that Michelle Rodriguez of, you know, “Lost” or whatever, will also be “on the red carpet” Opening Night. As it were. But of course, she’ll be ripped to the tits, and driving a car. Ba-dum-bum.

And now, this poor misguided letter:

Dear Adrian, I don’t live in Seattle anymore, but I read Celebrity I Saw U every week. I moved to Boston last year. But yesterday while I was working at the JFK Presidential Library, none other than Kate Hudson, Owen Wilson and Owen Wilson’s nose came strolling in! I was shocked. I sold them their admissions ticket, and they spent two hours in the museum. They didn’t say much because they were too busy being disgustingly cutesy with each other, concluding their tour with a lover’s game of tag in our pavilion. Gross! Who knew that suicide attempts actually do strengthen a relationship?

Anyway, I immediately thought of Celebrity I Saw U, since I love your column, and these are the only celebrities I’ve ever seen.

Love,
Aly

I am sure I speak for everyone when I say Thank you, Aly, for that remarkable glimpse into the secret and unnerving world of Hudson-Wilson love, for your weekly reading of Celebrity I Saw U, and for your creepy ability to read through time.

The Robbins half of Baskin-Robbins departed this mortal coil one week ago today. That's him on the right:

Ol' Irv Robbins grew up in Tacoma. He and Burt Baskin were brothers-in-law. He ate three or four scoops a day. His favorite: Jamoca almond fudge.

Selections from Baskin-Robbins' Fun Facts:

-Famous former Baskin-Robbins scoopers include presidential candidate and Illinois Senator Barack Obama.
-Howard Hughes once became quite fond of Baskin-Robbins Banana Nut ice cream, so his aides tried to purchase a bulk shipment for him. Sadly, they discovered the flavor had been discontinued. They put in a request for the smallest amount the company could provide for a special order, 350 gallons (1,300 Liters). It was shipped from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, where Hughes lived at the time on the top floor of the Desert Inn. That’s the hotel he bought after they tried to evict him. A few days after the order arrived, Hughes announced he was tired of Banana Nut and only wanted French Vanilla ice cream. The Desert Inn ended up distributing free Banana Nut ice cream to casino customers for a full year until the 350 gallons were gone.
-Sean “Diddy” Combs got his first break by starring in a Baskin-Robbins commercial at the age of two.
-Throughout the years, we’ve honored important American events and cultural trends by introducing premium ice cream flavors, such as Lunar Cheesecake, Sesame Sweet, Beatle Nut and Green Monster Mint. [Who--or WHERE--is this Green Monster???]

Good morning.

This is really dirty. Shia LaBeouf's anus is discussed. Mullets are involved. It's a total waste of time. Also, there is a curse on it. Don't watch it unless you want your pants to explode.

Yes, this. Honestly. Please don't do it. Don't. Don't. Don't.

Thank you.

Scarlett Johansson and Ryan Reynolds are engaged. I'm sure that Mr. Reynolds' washboard abs must've sealed the deal. But still: first Josh Hartnett and now Ryan Reynolds? Is Johansson afraid of dating talented men?

I’ve been wearing my skinny pants lately. I’m sure you’ve noticed. (Sorry…um…try putting some ice on that.) My secret? Recession? Mania? Booger-sugar? Yes. And SIFF, goddammit. SIFF! Opening Night is coming quicker than a coked-up choir boy, so I’ve been living on rice and foul intentions. The press kick-off happened just this morning, which I missed completely of course, because they insisted on moving the event someplace completely asinine called “SIFF Cinema”, which is waaaaaay the hell down in Seattle Center, and not conveniently just across the street from me at Harvard Exit Theater, which is where the damn thing usually happened, and where God damn well intended it to be. And I try never to burn fossil fuels just for free Mimosa if I can help it. But these are the terrible rumors:

Charlize Theron and Stuart Townsend have something or other to do with the Opening Night Movie, which is about a traumatic event I personally suffered called the WTO Riots, and they will be attending said opening night to dazzle us with their Theron/Townsendness. I’m planning an in-depth interview with Stuart’s abs, and also to Wikipedia Charlize Theron presently to educate myself, and thusly the world, as to exactly what the gosh darn heck a Charlize Theron is. (Some kind of water bird? A mystery.)

So. Stay tuned for further developments. Or don't. Whatever. I'm getting dizzy.

(Stuart’s abs are on the left. That’s Condoleeza Rice there on the right.)

OCALA, Fla. — A federal judge on Thursday sentenced the actor Wesley Snipes to three years in prison for willfully failing to file tax returns.

Mr. Snipes, who was convicted in February, received one year for each count, to be served consecutively, and an additional year of probation. The sentence was handed down by Judge William Terrell Hodges of Federal District Court.

Mr. Snipes, who apologized for his actions before the sentence was announced, showed no immediate reaction to the verdict.

Early reports indicate a strike force of washed-up 1980s action stars—made up of Dolph Lundgren, Steven Seagal, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Chuck Norris, and Carl Weathers—is already planning to bust Snipes out of the clink.

Dancing with the Stars. Has there ever been anything more horrible, more misguided, more completely soul-crushingly, skin-crawlingly painful to behold? Don’t be ridiculous. Even I’m not gay enough to appreciate that crap---watching C and D-listers prance and twirl like coked up ponies in glittery hooker costumes…ugh. It’s like Lawrence Welk with a mental disorder.

Tragically for everyone, I accidentally caught about twenty seconds of it by TOTAL chance earlier this week, and this is what I saw:

Yes, that’s Marlee Matlin shaking her little tail feathers up there, and yes, it is the same “profoundly deaf” Marlee Matlin from Children of a Lesser God and What the Bleep Do We Know (ugh) and The ‘L’ Word, et al. Indeed.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that making a deaf woman mambo is a small lateral step from putting a blind man on a greased-up pole and watching him crash to the ground. Live. On national TV. And you are oh so very right. It’s like a piano recital for children with no fingers. Like a butt-kicking contest for people with no butts. But…just look at that deaf chick go!

Now I really have nothing to compare Marlee’s mambo to, for, as I think I said, I’d rather eat a candied turd taco than sit through this garbage. I’ve never watched an episode before. But from my unschooled point of view, that woman danced like no deaf woman should be allowed. It was amazing, really. It was pretty much spot-on. (And, let’s face it, it was a damn sight more tolerable to watch than What the Bleep do We Know). It was certainly better than I could have done, and I’m blessed with a wicked sense of rhythm and two functioning ears. I simply couldn’t help but swoon a bit.

But, um, she was voted off. First week. Bam. Just like that.

A tragedy.

Oh, and it was sickening to watch. Everyone hugged her, and simpered, and gave nauseating speeches about how “inspiring” she was, and I couldn’t help thinking of a phrase David Schmader coined many years ago, “clapping extra loud for the retarded kid.” It seems just so wrong that she was so precipitously kicked off. Cruel, even. The bastards.

Poor, poor Marlee. She’s no retarded kid. She’s the Big Deaf Queen of the Mambo.

Dancing with the Stars. What a bunch of crap.

Rock n' Roller Rikki Rockett (Real Name Richard Ream) Arrested for Rape

Rocker Rockett (entering Roxy): Rapist?

The polar bear...

...and the problem with that polar bear:

Knut the polar bear has turned from a cuddly cub into a publicity-addicted psycho, one of his keepers claimed yesterday.

Markus Roebke said Berlin Zoo's celebrity animal was obsessed with the limelight and howled with rage when denied an audience.

"Knut must go and the sooner the better," he said, insisting that the bear should be sent to an animal park where he received less attention.

"He is addicted to the whole show, the human adulation. It is not healthy.

"He actually cries out or whimpers if he sees that there is not a spectator outside his enclosure ready to ooh and aah at him.

"When the zoo had to shut because of black ice everywhere he howled until staff members stood before him and calmed him down."

Knut was rejected by his mother after he was born in December 2006, prompting some animal activists to say it would be better for him to die than to be weaned by man.

The zoo let him live however and he has become a major attraction, pulling in £6million in revenue so far.

Again: What is it that separates the human animal from all other animals? Today I want to add another crucial difference: A human animal's talents are not trapped in its body. For the most part, if an animal has a talent, that talent is locked in its body; its talent is its own wholly. Animals cannot socialize their individual gifts in any significant way. With humans, gifts can be transmitted across a Tardian network of repetition. If someone is good with, say, medicine, that good is not trapped in the person's body. All other human bodies can benefit from that one person's particular good. Not to share, then, is to be less human and more an animal.

The 2007 YouTube awards were announced today. To the many Chris Crocker haters who frequent our comments: You will be pleased to know that Crocker's Leave Britney Alone video lost in the "commentary" category to... this.

Meanwhile, here's the winner of the "music" category. Ladies and gentlemen, "Chocolate Rain."

AfterElton.com has an interview with Slog favorite Christian Siriano, winner of this season's Project Runway, that touches on another Slog favorite, popwreck Britney Spears.

AE: I read in an interview with you that you said you wanted to save Britney Spears because she needs the gays.

CS: [laughing] She does. I know.

AE: Tell me what you’d do.

CS: Oh, my god. Listen, have you ever noticed Britney has no gays? She has no little fairies running around helping her. I don’t understand that.

AE: I know.

CS: It’s really horrible. Now I said to a producer once that I wanted to do a reality show called Project Britney instead of Project Runway, where I would take Britney for the next six months and I would do hair, makeup, wardrobe every day for her and become her personal staff every day. And then of course I would be, hello, the thanks that everyone has to give for saving Britney, ‘cause I would totally save her whole image and – oh my god, it would be flawless.

AE: But do you think she’d let you?

CS: No, she would never, no. She would never let anybody. I think that’s her point, like you know, everybody was doing that all her life, so she’s kind of rebelling. I mean I think it’d be fun. Most designers would never want to dress a celebrity like her, but I wouldn’t mind trying to like work her back into shape. It’d be fun.

Now that Project Runway is finally over, we turn our gaze to other television realities, and other screaming homosexuals. By which, of course, I mean American Idol, and this guy:

Every season it’s fucking something, and this season that fucking something’s name is David Hernandez. That's him in the pic above.

David is a top (ahem) contestant this time around, and he’s also apparently a big gay ‘ho. Or a big 'ho for the gays. Whatever.

The story goes that he found gainful employment as a rather nude stripper/topless bartender (with emphasis on the stripper) at a gay, gay, GAY! bar in the recent past, and everyone knows that this sort of frivolous behavior is deeply frowned upon by the prudes that run A.I.

So will Idol allow David to continue singing his little heart out, now that it’s been uncovered (ahem, ahem) that he’s all gay-for-pay and crap? And/or that he's obviously none too shy about revealing his man-nipples? Or will he be unceremoniously dumped, like some unfortunate and booby-showing acquaintances of mine? And if he isn't dumped, does that constitute a dreadful double standard?

Speculation is pointless. And I’m not watching the damn thing to find out.

Full story (and lots of nipply photographic evidence) here.

Oh, Sanjaya! Where are you?!?!

Nobody answer that.

The National Enquirer's earlier report has been confirmed.

Love him or hate him, you can't deny that this is might be sad news.

Swayze, 55, has been sick with the disease since he was diagnosed in late January with pancreatic cancer. The cancer has since spread to other organs and now the actor/dancer is dying.

Update: Transworld got this from the National Enquirer, so who knows if it's true. Sorry.

Meanwhile in Japan—Obamaface! (In honor of Obama, Japan.)

An actor prepares:

The pièce de résistance:

And, in the interest of equal time:

Baka gaijin, yo!

(Thanks to hot tipper Ben.)

I'm going to guess that I'm supposed to dislike Jimmy Kimmel, so I'll probably get in trouble for defying the orthodoxy here, but fuck it, this is kinda funny.

First there was this pretty funny smack from his hot-ass girlfriend:

Then, last night, there was this star-studded, gay-chicken-referencing response:

Ok, maybe it's not news, but it is hitting the tabloids today.

Of marriage, he says, "It's not a picnic, dude."

She says, "He lets his anger conquer him sometimes. He throws things around, and sometimes he throws it in my direction... I don't like the violence."

Ah, romance!

Straight boys of a certain age will always remember Roy Scheider for his performance as Chief Brody in Jaws, of course. Gay boys of a certain age will always remember him for his performance as a so-so entertainer, not much of a humanitarian, and nobody's friend in All That Jazz.

This is some freaky, tripped-out shit--courtesy of director Bob Fosse--and it ends with Scheider... well, I'm not going to say. It's 10 minutes long, morbidly depressing, and totally worth watching.