Despite her repeated public pronouncements of devotion, it will come as no huge shock to anyone anywhere that Paris Hilton just broke up with her boyfriend of nine months, musician Benji Madden. Even if you weren't up to speed on the latest developments — she was spotted with her Greek, shipping-heir ex and rumored desperately flirty with British princes — you have to figure, well, it's Paris Hilton, whose thirst for attention requires not only the intimate affection of various men but also constant press coverage of how those affections fluctuate. But her breakup is worth noting because the mainstream media seems to buying into her psychodrama like never before!

John McCain was right. So was Bonnie Fuller, and so were we! President Elect Barack Obama has totally become not just the great mixed-race hope for the nation, but he and his family have also evolved into tabloid-worthy celebrities. He and his wife Michelle are, in fact, "the new Brangelina." Well, that's according to Albert Lee, an editor for the bright Queen of all Glossies, Us Weekly. He recently explained to CNN that the Obamas are just what sells right now. The latest issue featuring the happy and now victorious couple smiling on the cover moved over one million copies. Because, he surmises, "everything else seems totally irrelevant right now." Which is true! But, what does this mean for American politics and, more importantly, American celebrity? We never quite got the thrust of those McCain ads that compared the senator from Illinois to Paris Hilton and Britney Spears. People actually seem to be kind of into that idea. There's something almost Main Streety about not just knowing the business of an administration's policies, but also knowing where they ate, what they wore, and what those adorable little girls are up to. Plus, the old, gross vanguard of hedonistic celebrities is dead anyway. And here, as the glorious new replacements, are some nice do-gooders to focus on. It's like the Kennedys all over again! Except, you know, hopefully with a different ending. Hear Mr. Lee elaborate in his own words below.

"I thought she should leave it on and start a whole new fashion phenom, but she dutifully reversed it." [Michael Musto]

"They don't appreciate me." [Observer]

There are certain guests Late Show host David Letterman just has to have on, by dint of popularity or importance, and you got the feeling he was getting the worst out of the way all at once last night. Letterman's lineup started with humor-challenged Fox News shouting head Bill O'Reilly before moving on to empty-vessel Hills star Lauren Conrad. There were plenty of painful moments. But then there were also delightful interludes in which Letterman couldn't help but slice into his guests. Click the video icon to watch the attached clip, in which Letterman basically calls Conrad an idiot before backing off in a fit of giggles and self deprecation.

Perhaps the recent rumors about editor-from-hell Bonnie Fuller helming celebrity weekly OK! were a clever way of ensuring a warm staff welcome for the real editor-in-chief and publisher, both set for announcement tomorrow. They are former Quick & Simple EIC Susan Toepfer and Niche Media senior VP Lori Burgess, respectively, the Post's Keith Kelly is reporting. Recently-installed general manager Kent Brownridge insisted his choice for editor "had never been Bonnie," but his passing on the pricey and profligate former Us Weekly chief is as good a sign as any that the economic meltdown will slam celebrity entertainment media as it has banking and real estate.

The last time we checked in with Bonnie Fuller, in August, the ex-Us Weekly editor was seeking "partners, financing and advertiser support" for a website aimed at women 20-40. That can't be going well right about now. Which might explain how OK! magazine could afford to bring on Fuller as a consultant, as CoverAwards is reporting, even though she was recently pulling down $2.1 million per year as editorial director at American Media Inc.

Now that the cat has tumbled mewling out of the divorce bag and she's begun saying nasty things about her husband in public, pop icon (popcon?) Madonna is at a metaphorical crossroads. Where do you go once you've escaped suburban Detroit banality, conquered the grimy 1980's New York City club scene, become a music and fashion superstar, attempted acting in movies and Broadway plays, borne approximately 143 reinvention comebacks from your be-hot-panted loins, settled down with a film director husband and cobbled together a hodgepodge of children, become a fitness-obsessed British lady, written children's books, directed your own film, worked your arms into clobbering, veiny horror shows, and then suddenly the happy quiet marriage dissolves and you're free to be yourself again? What's a material girl to do? We'll offer some suggestions after the jump. Become a Worldly, Knowing Head of State She's not tearing up the charts like she used to, she's not setting hearts aflutter, she's not even shocking anyone anymore. It's time we all—bourgeoisie and rebel—face the Music: the Age of Madonna has ended. Hell, the Age of Britney has ended. The pop music world is now dominated by skinny, moaning white boys, fiercely syncopated black ladies, and throwbacky retro British chicks. There's no room, really, for a 50-year-old with a message. Which is why Madge ought to hang up the riding crop and rest comfortably on her throne as the lifetime achievement Queen of Pop. (There's a spot next to hers where Michael Jackson should be sitting, but that whole thing went off the rails somewhere a few years back). Let the young ones claw their way around the industry, hoping for some attention. They're all trying to be Madonna anyway. Why mess with a classic and release subpar albums and muddle through rickety tours? Take a break, babe. You deserve it. And hey, now that your husband's out of the picture, you can declare Prima Nocta and bed every Joe and Jim Jonas who comes sexually blossoming across your path. They're yours by right. By Godly cree. Pause For Some Introspection The great thing about being a fabulous, wealthy, creative superstar is that when you fuck up or are fucked over, you get to stern your face up, put on some amazingly big sunglasses and be strong about it. People will call you a hero simply for breathing in and out, putting one foot in front of the other. So maybe Madonna should emulate her adopted country's stiff upper lip, turn inwards, and then a year or so from now, release some quiet, heartfelt album about what it means to be 50-years-old and alone again (save for those kids, but whatevs). Pen some soaring tunes with lyrics that talk about change and rebirth and the mystical cycles of things—the moon spins and so do wheels and carousels and what's so amazing that keeps us stargazing and how are we moving forward if all we're doing is turning around and around. That kind of thing. People will call her brave and reinvigorated and the definitive voice of her generation. (The funny thing being that Madonna's fans have generally always been just slightly younger than her.) She'll play Carnegie Hall and maybe even chat with someone on NPR and she'll finally get that classiness she's so desperately craved ever since she had a fleeting taste of it back in the Bedtime Stories/Evita days. Go Crazy Yeah, maybe she should just go nuts. Turn into an eccentric woman-of-a-certain-age. Hole up in her London apartment and emerge only to yell at songbirds or snatch cats off the street or go floating down the street swathed in caftans and turbans. She could say big, sweeping, beautiful things like "What a world it used to be, the old world. It's dead now. Dead and gone. In the old world we had parties every day and nobody cried because they were sad. Even when we were sad, we were happy." And she could become a drunk and always have some glass of amber-colored something or other swirling around. And maybe she could grab beautiful young men by the ears and cock her head a little nuttily and say, almost to herself, "so pretty. Pretty pretty little pet. I wonder how much you are. Everything's so expensive these days. Everything costs so very much. Don't they, pretty pet? Don't they..." and then she'll glide off cackling. It could be pretty fucking awesome, and at the young age of 50, she'd be getting a good head start on it. It could grow and change and evolve over the next 30-plus years! By the time she's 85, she could be writing long, curious letters to the editors of various newspapers in South America, accusing lampposts of being Nazis and calling the neighbor's dog Mussolini. And it would be fabulous. Or, you know, she could just continue working out and raising her children and maybe spend a little more time in New York than she has been and that will be that. Maybe she'll move to Connecticut and buy a Volvo. The world will just have to wait and watch. And really, isn't that the wonderful thing about Madonna? You just never know what's coming next.

Given the number of other slimy things Christie Brinkley's ex-husband Peter Cook has admitted to doing, no one, not even Cook's own people, is particularly surprised or outraged that a video exists of the architect having sex with his teenaged assistant Diana Bianchi. "Anything is possible," a "source close to [Cook]" told Page Six. Yes, in the wake of Cook being accused by his wife posting nude photos of himself to swingers sites, admitting he masturbated on the internet and after sleeping with a woman he first met at age 15 in a toy store, anything does seem possible. Including, say, a secretly-videotaped striptease, and Cook using some teen ass as a pillow:

BREAKING: Ringo Starr gets fan mail! Oh but also, the Beatles drummer gets so much of it that after 45 years he won't accept any letters that are postmarked after October 20. The Associated Press has issued an advisory about this, to be sure everyone has the opportunity to tell Mr. Starkey how much Yellow Submarine changed their lives or whatever. Memo to other exhausted celebrities: While it's all well and good to use the Web to take control of your relationship with fans, you don't ever want to sound as vaguely bitchy and threatening as Starr does in the attached clip, originally posted to his website. Click the icon to watch.

Actor Tobey Maguire has had another confrontation with the ever-dogged paparazzi, this incident ending in bloodshed. Apparently, his friend punched some photographer and was hauled off to jail. This is the second such outburst for the Spider-Man star, but he's not the only one to lash out at the wicked, prying photogs and their gaggle of flashing lights and inane questions. After the jump take a took at five other celebrities who have stood up and barked "No!" at the insidious rabble.

Remember when actress Minnie Driver took that really humble celebrity baby photo and we all thought it was nice and simple and not showy? Well, dear old Angelina Jolie—actress and professional child-haver—is doing the same, with a just-released beatific, breastfeeding (like Maggie!), earth mama portrait, taken by her hubby Brad Pitt, apparently. Except, oops. She's wearing makeup and it's on the cover of W magazine. So, OK, the intention is good—unadorned, real, human—but the execution is still a bit showy (W is awfully fancy). [CoverAwards] Gawp at a larger version after the jump and judge for yourself.

Actress Minnie Driver recently gave birth to her son Henry last month, and in lieu of some splashy magazine cover (I mean, not that she's that big of a star to warrant that, but you know), she decided to just post a humble, makeup free, mom and baby photo on MySpace. It's a refreshingly un-self-indulgent photo that is heartening to see in this time of the splashy money-making, high gloss, celebrity baby industry. Maybe it represents a new era? Celebrities like Samantha Ronson and Lindsay Lohan have retreated to MySpace and blogs to issue PR statements, so maybe the baby business will become less of a controlled and manipulated cottage industry as well. The owners of OK! magazine, one of the biggest baby buyers, recently stopped the crazed spending the tabloid had enjoyed indiscriminately for some years. Maybe Driver's new, simpler way will help drive the baby market down and babies will just become babies again, rather than increasingly cynical magazine tentpoles.

We're told Bauer Publishing chief Hubert Boehle has grown tired of the never-ending stream of outside editors atop his celebrity fashion title Life & Style. He finds them hapless. The solution: Boehle will bring in Dan Wakeford, executive editor of another Bauer celebrity mag, In Touch, as top editor. "He wasn't given any choice in the matter," our tipster said. With both the fashion industry and celebrity magazines socked by the economy, he's got his work cut out for him.

The Three Fates are almost done spinning the American narrative, Atropos readying her scissors to deliver one final snip. When the story is done the great heralding beacon of the end of days will burn brightly, in the form of a Britney Spears sex tape. Yes indeed the misbegotten pop star apparently filmed herself in flagrante delicto with her old creepy paparazzo boyfriend Adnan Ghalib, and now he's waving it around threatening to release it. How did we get to this point? Well, after the jump we'll take a look at three other celebrity sex tapes that, had our foresight only been as 20/20 as our hindsight, we could have recognized as the end of everything.

Here's the thing about gossip doyenne Liz Smith: She's 85 and really, really tried of the gossip scene, despite being paid to write a column on the topic. Hey, fair enough, she's earned her disillusionment. But Smith can't stop with the complaining! "There are very few really big stars these days, and that makes everything truly dull," she wrote in March. And a few weeks later: "There is already an absolute plethora of bullshit, manufactured photography, and speculation passing for gossip, and it will probably increase." New York magazine caught up with Smith for its 40th anniversary issue, and if anything she's grown even more dismissive of the whole scene, and even some of her own older work:

As if celebrity babies didn't face enough perils — paparazzi, feuding celebrity parents, ill-advised playdates with Michael Jackson — they now have to keep a weary little eye on the stock market. Because amid Wall Street meltdown and the worst advertising decline in seven years rumors are now swirling that the undisputed highroller in the market for pictures of famous infants, OK! magazine, is cutting off payments for exclusive shots of the little tykes. (Sure, the fees usually went to charity, but you can't put a price tag on adulation.) New general manager Kent Brownridge has allegedly said "no more picture buying, and to keep readers interested we will have to 'get creative,'" a disgruntled staffer told Page Six. Underlings are no doubt praying Brownridge doesn't confirm another rumor and squander the savings hiring boss-from-hell Bonnie Fuller to replace a departing Sarah Ivens. Reports the Post:

The financial system is having one of its occasional bouts of uncertainty and depression but, hey, cheer up American economy, because fameball Julia Allison is too! In her on-again, off-again, oh-God-just-make-up-your-mind-already relationship with her own self promotion, Allison seems to be swinging toward another period of doubt and introspection. Perhaps you don't care because you're worried about starving in the street or whatever. But there's an honest-to-God company built on Allison's whims now, and according to her business partner Megan Asha there's now a "mini-meltdown" going on over whether the venture launched too soon. Imagine the horrifying revaluations that could ripple through the subprime protocelebrity markets as a result!

Last night Barack Obama had a fundraiser in Beverly Hills. It was terrible! He raised a zillion dollars from these out-of-touch movie stars while decent, hard-working Americans lost their jobs on Wall Street. Famous people were there, like Steven Spielberg and Will Farrell. And BARBRA STREISAND! The McCain blast email paints a portrait of Caligulan decadent excess:

"i went home an began writin/a suicide note" [New Yorker, New Yorker]