Every time a short-lived celebrity couple call it quits, the baby Jesus poops his swaddling clothes:

Since People rushed to be the first to inform a largely ambivalent world that the blink-and-you-missed-it blessed union of skeletal on-screen pouter Renee Zellweger and cowboy hat model Kenny Something, the AP story about the break-up revealed that the court papers cited "fraud" (without any elaboration) as Zellweger's cause for filing the for the annulment. So many big questions are raised by such a little word: "Is Chesney a gay?" "Did Zellweger's publicists determine that Chesney's people misrepresented his level of fame while they were in negotiations to arrange the marriage?" "If we drink every cleaning product we find under the sink, will our death be swift and painless?" We suppose we'll have to wait until the papers are leaked or otherwise made public before we get to find out. In the meantime, we're going to go find out what those amazing scrubbing bubbles feel like as they work their way down the esophagus.

Writing an online diary for IGN.com about his involvement with the movie Stephen Tobolowsky's Birthday Party, cinematographer Robert Brinkmann, the now-estranged husband of Mena Suvari, recounts how sensitively the wonderflacks of PMK handled the disintegration of his marriage:

We're going with the screen grab of the People story so we don't have to waste any more words than necessary on this non-story (a first, we know). In searching through our archives, though, we noticed that the relationship, brief and utterly pointless even by Hollywood standards, began with a tsunami and ended with the hurricane. The imposed symbolism of that is absolutely crushing, isn't it? No? Then take a second to mourn the death of love between a painfully skinny chick and a guy in a cowboy hat, then get back to that game of Minesweeper.

Extra is reporting that Eddie Murphy's wife has filed for divorce. If a relationship that's already survived a tranny hooker can't last forever, what hope is there for any of us?