Splash News asks: "Looking For The Next Britney, Paris, And Lindsay?" They seem to think that the new all of those miserable trainwrecks is this one little blond girl by the name of Leven Rambin. She's on All My Children, she goes to funky places like "The Lower East Side," and she also slept with noted Internet Famous Person Jakob Lodwick. All at the tender age of not-yet-legal! Jesus. Well, good on Splash for warning her. Soon they shall stalk young Rambin across the vast and dangerous island of celebrity before setting her before us on the great buffet table of fame and demanding we feast. BONUS: After the jump, find out how to buy what she wore to The Box! [Splash]

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Reuters might have another little problem with dramatic photos from the Middle East. The wire service sent this photo out last week with the caption "Palestinian lawmakers attend a parliament session in candlelight during a power cut in Gaza January 22, 2008." The photo—taken, along with a couple similar ones, by Gaza local Reuters photog Mohammed Salem—purports to show how Palestinian leaders are soldiering on in the face of the Israeli blockade and power cuts. Except that it's clearly the middle of the day, and sunlight would be streaming through the windows if the curtains weren't closed.

Unlucky Heath Ledger. Lucky Entertainment Weekly, which closes on a Tuesday evening, after news of the Australian actor's death. Here's tomorrow's cover, already on sale on Ebay. [Radar]

It's conventional wisdom that, by dying young, you at least get to stay pretty. Lots of stars burned out too fast: from Heath to Jimi, Janis and John Belushi, River Phoenix, Kurt, Anna Nicole. The consolation prize of an early death is that you get to avoid the indignities of age. Dead celebrities traditionally become more famous, more than they would have had they managed to stay alive, kind of a reverse fameball. They turn into legends, or at least an E! True Hollywood Story. But this may be changing.

Australian-American screen actor Heath Ledger is dead. Ledger was an Oscar-nominated leading man with an admirable career both artistically and at the box office—he may currently be seen in 2007's art-house sleeper I'm Not There and he'll soon be opening across the nation as the iconic Joker, the lead villain in next chapter in the Batman film franchise. He died in Manhattan. He was 28.

Whether a drug-addled woman in the midst of an apparent complete mental breakdown should be really held personally responsible by her exploiters for her complicity in her exploitation is a matter best left to Dr. Phil or blog commenters, but it's clear to all who've followed the travails of Britney Spears (and they're hard not to follow, with each nightly travail conveniently illustrated by paparazzi photographs immediately disseminated to USWeekly and TMZ, not unlike that amazing cyber-lebrity episode of CSI: Miami that was repeated last night) that she is a quite willing participant in her own liveblogged downward spiral. And hell, when the Daily Mail reports that (estranged paparazzi ex of Britney) Adnan Ghalib's auctioning off of "intimate" photos is "her worst nightmare," we are not entirely convinced. Still, it's a bit unseemly that one "lensman" would go to Page Six to defend the honor of his tribe (or pack? swarm?).

Amid your sympathy for America's abused celebrities, who starve themselves to stay beautiful or binge to blot out the noise, spare a thought for the poor paparazzi. Britney Spears is suing one, and sleeping with another; four more were arrested yesterday. This rather mild New Zealand photographer experienced the famous wrath of Bjork, the Icelandic singer-songwriter. The latest victim of a crazed celebrity: a photographer outside the New York hospital to which Gwyneth Paltrow was admitted, who was attacked by her husband, Coldplay frontman Chris Martin. New York Post is hosting the video. Hit the thumb for the frame-by-frame, as Martin grabs the paparazzo, pushes him to the ground, and grabs his camera. (And remember: it's your clicks that pit celebrity against photographer.)

Are you feeling unimportant? You can pay a photographer to trail you around like a paparazzo. The service is called Celeb4ADay. The company is based in Austin but operates in both Austin and Los Angeles. It plans to open in San Francisco as well. There's a story about it in Time (not online) and Portfolio wrote about it too. There is no information on the website as to whether the service includes upskirt shots, horrible Brummie boyfriends, a suffocating panic, a nervous breakdown, the loss of custody of your children (or, for a slightly lower fee, partial custody), or having all vestiges of privacy systematically stripped from your person until you (or whoever you choose I guess) are running through the streets of Austin, naked, crying, arms spread on either side of your body like a flightless bird unable to escape a certain crushing and crummy death. Also! Franchise opportunities are available!

Despite a rearguard effort by a few crusty old editors, the newspapers haven't been able to resist the popular fascination with female celebrities who have it all (ah, aspirational!) and then throw it away in a binge of alcohol, drugs and cheap publicity (ah, such delightful schadenfreude!). Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears — playing the roles of fallen heiress, soused actress and white-trash pop star — have vied with eachother for media attention since they crossed over to the mainstream in 2003. As this chart shows, Paris Hilton was the first to break out into the supposedly serious media, in November 2003, when a private sex tape taken by her boyfriend hit the internet. Lindsay Lohan dominated 2005 with her eating disorder, but managed to get some attention for a movie, Just My Luck. This year's been the most competitive by far, with each of the three girls competing with DUI charges, jail terms, and breakdowns. And any squeamishness at newspapers and news weeklies has been overwhelmed by their need to remain competitive: they may disguise a gossip item in a worthy feature on teen alcoholism, but celebrity gossip is now all pervasive.

We totally get the desire to squeeze every last drop of drama from Britney Spears' meltdown. But US Weekly is running dry. Their latest online exclusive: Britney, who has a "penchant for X-rated clothing, as the celebrity weekly helpfully reminds us, took a sip of orange soda. "Oh, that's good," she said. (Click thumb for the screenshot.)

It's the perfect business model. Finalpixx, the obscure paparazzo agency for which Britney Spears' boyfriend last worked, has scored a series of lucrative exclusives since he landed the troubled pop star. Now comes news that the Anglo-Afghan photographer, Adnan Ghalib, is also being paid by Spears to act as her personal assistant. Hollywood may be appalled by his mercenary nature; but the entertainment talent agencies at least must give a little grudging admiration for Ghalib's ability to make money at both ends.

New York Magazine's Grub Street blog has a little interview with Michael Rankin, a waiter at Brooklyn eatery Diner. In it he discusses his various celebrity encounters and gives some behind-the-scenes restaurant dish. He talks about how the restaurant basically served Superbad's McLovin' alcohol, even though he is woefully underage. It's also a pretty efficient reminder that not every waiter is Noam Chomsky. A favorite quote: "I love getting people from out of town — I can tell they're freaked out because their waiter just sat down next to them. They look completely shocked and terrified." Now they've seen everything! [Grub Street]

No wonder Scarlett Johansson always has that creepy feeling that someone's stealing her fingernails. I wonder if they smell as delicious as she does—like strawberries and lotion and rain and delicate clay pots drying in the sun!

In this walk the walk, stalk the stalk edition: La Lohan and half a cheeseburger, Andre Balasz and Uma Thurman, Luke Wilson and a girl with bangs, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard, Lauren Bush, Zach Braff, Ed Burns, Sigourney Weaver, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Jason Schwartzman, Liev Schreiber, Liam Neeson, Zooey Deschanel (maybe), Rick Moranis (definitely), Alan Cumming, Rachel Dratch, Giovanni Ribisi, Juliana Margulies, Talib Kweli, Scott Speedman, Danny Bonaduce, John Waters, Debbie Harry, Theodora Richards, Alec Baldwin, Al Roker, Pat O Brien, and Chris Burke goes on with life.

Sightings are sent in by readers, many of whom are legally blind. Send yours to tips@gawker.com.

Tips are sent in by readers; send yours to tips@gawker.com.

Sightings are sent in by your brothers and sisters in stalking; send yours to tips@gawker.com.