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PR Week
 coaxes incredibly shy and softspoken LA Weekly columnist (and current unhealthy obsession of Fishbowl LA—that guy'll be dead before Friday) Nikki Finke into holding forth on that most fascinating species running loose in the Hollywood jungle, the entertainment publicist:

PRWeek: Have you seen a change in the types of PR people you've dealt with over the course of your career?
 Finke: Yes. What you have with PR people now is, they don't represent their clients, they think they are the clients. The minute you get them on the phone, you already have four strikes against you. That you exist on this planet, that you are daring to ask a question, that you're trying to write any kind of truthful story, and fourth, that you're a miserable human being, and part of a race of mankind who should be wiped off the face of the planet. It's impossible.

There you have it, reporters: While that flack is spinning you about that nasty thing their client certainly did not do, she's secretly imagining tossing your body into a mass grave in Burbank.

Also: Finke fingers Barry Diller (pictured) as the biggest jerk in Hollywood. Congrats, Barry!