Easily the biggest news that came out of Wednesday's mass return to the airwaves by late-night's long-sidelined talk-show hosts was the unexpected appearance of David Letterman and Conan O'Brien's competing Strike Beards, a solidarity-signifying facial hair trend so hot that the clean-shaven visages of Jay Leno and Jimmy Kimmel now seem to indicate a conspicuous lack of support for the hosts' still-picketing writing staffs. (The embattled Carson Daly, we've been told, plans to smash his trusty Norelco electric shaver on his next show in an attempt to prove his commitment to the WGA cause, no matter how unflattering the resulting patchy growth may be.)

Though we've already awarded victory in last night's Return of Late Night TV talk-show wars to Conan O'Brien, whose downy Strike Beard simultaneously displayed solidarity with his absent writing staff and offered comfort to millions of fans anxious about how Hollywood's labor unrest affects the Masturbating Bear's ability to release the painful tension in his ursine nether-regions, we think it's important that everyone be provided with an opportunity to make up their own minds about whether the jokes scripted by Guild scribes were actually more successful than ones delivered by hosts forced to generate their own material. To that end, Gawker Media video operative Richard Blakeley whipped up this montage (click the above thumbnail to view) allowing you to compare their parallel efforts at entertaining America. Enjoy.

Sporting an intimidating beard meant to show the effects of his difficult, two-month-long, tragically scribe-deprived hibernation, David Letterman symbolically crossed a twirling line formed by his Eugene V. Debs Picket Dancers and returned to work, bolstered by the full services of his newly contracted Guild writers. We haven't seen Jay Leno's opening yet, but we're going to assume he won't be doing a self-effacing version of the picket-line bit, wary that the saboteurs who've previously feasted on a vulnerable Carson Daly might have infiltrated his dance troupe, ready to paddle him with "Shame on You, Jay!" signs for going back to work without his striking staff.

For those of you whose DVRs lack the capacity to capture all of the action from tonight's much-ballyhooed Return Of The Late Night Talk Shows, we've got you covered: In just a few short hours, we'll be posting clips from the monologues of each host frog-marched before the cameras—even Craig Ferguson, probably!—to see how each handles the delicate matter of explaining to America why they're back at work while their writers are still outside on the picket line without actually using the words, "The network threatened to execute every below-the-line employee if I didn't come back tonight." (Or in the case of Letterman and Ferguson, we'll look at how they show off the competitive advantage that cutting a deal with the WGA affords them.) See you then for what promises to be a magically awkward evening! [Bearded Letterman photo: AP]

Happy return of the Late Night talk shows day! Tonight, our long national vaguely annoying situation preceding the nightmares is over. Letterman, Conan, Leno, and the Scottish guy are all taping new episodes for air tonight. Above, Richard Blakeley photographed Letterman's Ed Sullivan theater, quietly free of picketing scribes—because Letterman's production company negotiated a deal with the WGA, meaning he gets staff-penned material and writer-sympathetic guests. Like Robin Williams tonight! Leno has former fatty and scary/affable GOP prez contender Mike Huckabee. If anyone spots any picket-crossing or writerly unrest outside the Conan studios, or anywhere else, let us know. Related: Dave Dumps Trump For Robin; Jay Says "Huck You!" By Booking Mike [Deadline Hollywood Daily]

· The Return of Late Night (*Doc Severinson trumpet flourish*) brings a veritable who-cares of stars to their chilled couches. Leno has Jamie Lynn Spears'-pregnancy-endorsing candidate Mike Huckabee, and Letterman has Donald Trump, on hand to find out which of his Celebrity Apprentice candidates float. [THR]
· More on the Worldwide Pants/WGA deal: Writers got what the Guild is demanding for internet across the board: "3% based on the applicable minimum payment per 100,000 hits." [THR]
· Netscape Navigator, who for some of us was our first portal into the many splendors of the bold new fetish-catering technology of the World Wide Web, is to be buried beneath a heavy pillow in its sleep by corporate parent AOL. [THR]
· Chinese actor and director Sun Daolin died at age 86, his illustrious cinematic legacy in many ways paving the way for Chris Tucker shouting about the words coming out of his mouth at a nonplussed Jackie Chan. [Variety]
· Overseas audiences still can't get enough of I Am Legend, which foreign film snoots are calling the greatest exploration of the existentialist dilemma since 1948's La Terra trema. [Variety]

A press release brings at least a glimmer of end-of-year good news to the otherwise moribund state of writers strike affairs: Worldwide Pants, which sought to reach an independent deal with the WGA that would allow both their late night talk shows to return to the airwaves with a full roster of Guild-approved Top Ten lists, Know Your Current Events questions, and whatever it is they do on The Late Late Show, has successfully negotiated an agreement with their writers' union:

A sleepy trade round-up for Christmas Eve:
· I Am Legend continues to clean up overseas, accidentally giving foreigners the impression that Manhattan is a sparsely populated American island with inexpensive real estate and some overzealous homeless people. [Variety]
· Much like the war in Iraq, except with fewer babies on the front lines, the writers strike proves elusive in putting a face on the enemy. [Variety]
· 2007 will go down as The Year the World's Biggest Stars Proved to be Gigantic, Useless Wastes of Hundreds of Millions of Studio Dollars. We're looking at you, Pitt, Cruise, Kidman, and Cera. Oh—strike that last one. Kid's on fire. [Variety]

The Writers Guild of America (WGA), which represents TV and film writers striking over their Internet pay, has decided to negotiate with individual bosses instead of the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers. Late-night hosts David Letterman and Jon Stewart will be the first to take the bait and negotiate side deals to get their shows back on the air, the New York Times reports. We're pretty sure Viacom will settle with Stewart's writers quickly. As the Daily Show scribes themselves pointed out, the company's $1 billion suit against Google/YouTube indicates they must understand the value of video online.

David Rockefeller Sr., Paul Allen, Edgar Bronfman, Leonard Lauder, Scottie Pippen, and David Letterman all receive big farm subsidy checks from Uncle Sam, according to an investigation by the Post. That Connecticut home pays for itself! Letterman and Rockefeller reportedly give their regular checks to charity. Manhattanite Phyllis Joyner received $213,998 from 2003 to 2005. "I'm actually in Virginia receiving farm subsidies," she told the Post from her East Village apartment. We are so claiming residence at our parents' house in Minnesota and "growing" some "sorghum." Then we're quitting too! [NYP]

David Letterman, Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien could be back on TV before Hollywood writers end their strike, Variety reports. Writers are striking over how much they should be compensated for content distributed over the Internet and on DVDs, but producers for the three late night shows are in secret talks to bring back their own scribes before the strike ends. That could be a serious blow to the writers' cause. So far, late-night reruns are the only sign for most television viewers that anything's going on at all. Producers won't run out of sitcom and drama scripts until January.

As nearly every article we've read to date on the possible impact of the writers strike has pointed out, the first victims of the walkout will be late-night talk shows; without the script lead-times enjoyed by sitcom and drama productions, their hosts will immediately be pushed in front of the cameras without material produced by their absentee writing staffs, forced to read from cue cards offering no more detailed commentary on the day's events than [NEXT THREE MINUTES: RIFF UNCOMFORTABLY ON HOW YOU HAVE NO ONE TO WRITE JOKES ABOUT WHATEVER IT WAS THAT BRITNEY SPEARS/GEORGE BUSH/HILLARY CLINTON DID TODAY.]

Appearing on Late Show last night to promote a small, low-profile animated movie soon to make its way into select art houses across the country, Hubbardian dabbler Jerry Seinfeld used the opportunity to try out a tight, three-minute set of new material based entirely around the everyman premise, "So a billionaire comedian's wife writes an Oprah-approved cookbook about hiding brussel sprouts in your kids' mac and cheese, and some celebrity-stalking lunatic accuses her of plagiarism, just because the book she already wrote on that topic contains 15 identical recipes!"

Truth be told, the contents of Jennifer Lopez's uterus don't particularly interest us, though we do harbor a suspicion that she's been parading around with a false, early-term baby-bump in which she stores a self-authored script for prospective comeback vehicle Enough II: Never Enough and the ostentatious engagement ring she received at the height of the Bennifer craze, hoping that the conspicuous bulge might revive some interest in her career.

· After what he did to Paris Hilton the other night, we were expecting David Letterman to lead off his Alec Baldwin interview with, "So, you had a little trouble with some voicemail or something a few months ago, eh?" Instead, we got a story about a boat. But we suppose the Hilton segment earned Letterman a night off.
· Chuck Zito generously offers to referee the theoretical, $5 million grudge match between Pam Anderson exes Kid Rock and Tommy Lee, or failing that, just beat the shit out of them both.
· Metromix divides the town into LC and Heidi-friendly zones, helping fans of The Hills stay on turf where they'll feel safe.
· We always knew that tramp Chairy was going to wind up on the street. All Pee Wee's bitches do.
· Here's hoping the proprietor of the Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians blogspot doesn't give up before the premise is thoroughly exhausted. There are still some places to take it, even after hitting Bruce Jenner.

While you were out filling your body with the kind of mood-altering chemicals that could lead to a tragic drivers license suspension of your own on Friday night, David Letterman was luring recently rehabilitated probation-violator Paris Hilton into a Late Show ambush, promising Hilton a chance to promote her latest brand-extension efforts (another perfume and a straight-to-video acting credit—oh yeah, and some, like, charity thing or whatever) to a national audience of eager consumers.

On Friday, socialite ex-con Paris Hilton sat down with David Letterman on "The Late Show." Paris wanted to promote her clothing line, her movie, and her perfume, but there was only one thing Letterman was interested in discussing: her life behind bars. As far as PR rehabilitations go, this was not at all like the smooth move that publicist Dan Klores pulled off when he set up Paris to go on "Saturday Night Live" to defuse the news of her sex tape.

· Just for the proverbial shits n' giggles, here's another clip from Dr. Phil's Late Show appearance last night. Panties, or the lack thereof, are discussed.
· The LAT gets to know Hoboken Beach Diet Guy, with whom you're already probably pretty well acquainted by now.
· Leave Britney Alone Guy gets his Gallery of the Absurd moment. Also, his Howard Stern moment. And his ABC News moment.
· Ben Affleck's Gone Baby Gone might not become a huge hit in the UK.

On last night's Late Show, David Letterman invited shouty self-help personality Dr. Phil to speak truth to celebutard power in the wake of the latest Britney Spears meltdown, hoping that the unvarnished words of Oprah's Favorite Tough-Love-Providing Thing might help Spears and her panty-eschewing peers get their collective acts together. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Phil will countenance no talk about alcohol or drugs' role as the moral lubricant in desperate starlets' decisions to share their virtue with the public; these coddled fame-whores, argues the good fake-doctor, know exactly how much vagina they're going to flash before a single cocktail is poured or rail is blown.

So overcrowded is the summer movie marketplace that the only way to distinguish one's upcoming blockbuster product from the blowing-shit-up competition is to hit the talk show circuit and recreate some of the fun that awaits fickle moviegoers upon their next trip to the multiplex.