CAMP CAMP: WHERE FANTASY ISLAND MEETS LORD OF THE FLIES is the follow-up to BAR MITZVAH DISCO. The book, the ultimate summer read, is a love letter to summer camp and history of our generation, a chance to relive every Champion sweatshirt-wearing, accidental bed-wetting, sky-hook-wedgie-receiving, tie-dye-making golden moment via hundreds of photographs and stories, including tall tales from AJ Jacobs, Rachel Sklar, Paul Feig, David Wain, and Sloane Crosley. Enter to win a copy of the book.

The palpable surge of political enfranchisement sweeping America since Barack Obama's nomination clinch reached its logical conclusion this afternoon, when a note over the Defamer HQ transom confirmed that, yes, porn star Mary Carey has declared her candidacy for the State Assembly. The North Hollywood resident, who last ran for state office during the 2003 gubernatorial recall, is gathering signatures as we speak to run against District 43 incumbent Paul Krekorian. "I have always loved politics and know that the State Assembly would be a better position to begin my career in politics," Carey said in a statement released a few hours ago. "I want to energize people into caring about local politics again - much like we've seen in the national primaries. But unlike one of the presidential primary contenders, I'm actually a politician you'd want to get screwed by!" Alas, we refrain from editorial endorsements, but assuming she qualifies, the civically horny-minded among you will want to look for her legal name, Mary Cook. And God bless America — or something.

In light of the news that Ruler of the Universe Ryan Seacrest will soon be hosting a show on NBC called Momma’s Boys, we’re both delighted that the highlighted wunderkind has decided to ignore all the inevitable backlash, and disappointed that the show will be using mere mortals as contestants. Of all the male celebrities out there, Ryan is undoubtedly one of the most clear-cut examples of how we imagine our worst nightmare of a "Mother May I?" type to be, but he’s certainly not alone. Below, we nominate a few of our own submissions to the casting call printed in Backstage this week for “candidates who should be ready to be humiliated,” in celebrity form of course:

Our hats are off to the merciful executives who refuse to give up on The Moment of Truth—Fox VP of Satan-Delighting Alternative Programming Mike Darnell's sluggishly paced, polygraphic game show. Week in and week out, it drags itself into the dugout and attempts to deliver on the life-destroying promise it showed at Reality TV spring training, but rarely does it succeed. At best, as in last night's episode, we come away with the mild satisfaction of knowing that things will forever be uncomfortable between that week's featured nymphomaniac and the best friend she's doesn't think will ever have a professional recording career, but has often considered fucking.

Seeing how much fun we had grilling John Cusack last week, we decided one impromptu, inquisitive turn deserves another. Then, through some minor miracle/apparent PR botch, we found ourselves sitting across from Werner Herzog talking about his new documentary about life in Antarctica, Encounters at the End of the World. We'll get to that as its release date approaches later this month, but for the moment, we're still wondering how hard our legs were just pulled as Herzog told us all about his mad vision for remaking continuing (or something) Abel Ferrara's 1992 cult classic Bad Lieutenant.

[Photo Credit: Bauer-Griffin]

It has been many, many moons since Gwyneth Paltrow and Brad Pitt broke it off, but that doesn't mean that Gwyneth is immune to the jealousy that Angelina Jolie and her multi-national brood of infants inspires. In the new issue of Harper’s Bazaar, Paltrow tells the mag that, “I may force myself to [get pregnant] one more time because the result is so worth it...And also my [late] dad said to me that his only regret in life was that he had only two children and he didn't have more." Though we doubt Coldplay frontman Chris Martin finds these loving words inspiring when it comes to slipping into the sheets with his hooker-heeled wife, Paltrow seems to feel the Apocalypse will officially begin if he doesn't. You see, she’s just the best mother in the whole world (aside from Dina Lohan, that is), and “owes it to humanity” to produce another spawn. Also? Her late father was reincarnated as her hair,and chopping it off made her go “...aaah!” An explanation, after the jump:

[Photo Credit: INF Daily]

· Celebrity nape-haver Matt Damon will play South African rugby star Francois Pienaar in Clint Eastwood's Human Factor. Accent time! [Variety]
· Chuck creator Josh Schwartz declares "computer geeks...the new doctors and cops of television," by which he means a clichéd profession conspired upon by lazy writers and unimaginative network executives to oversaturate the TV landscape. [Variety]
· SAG is churning out more and more waivers with indie producers, guaranteeing production won't be interrupted after June 30 should something go horribly wrong with the negotiations. It's a limbo agents are referring to as "Waiverland," named for the union spokesman who signs the interim agreements, Kenneth Waiverland. [Variety]
· Bruce Willis will star in Kane & Lynch, a lesser-beloved-videogame adaptation for Lionsgate. [THR]
· Brian DePalma goes to the serial-killer well once more with The Boston Stranglers, written by former Diff'rent Strokes and Head of the Class writer Alan Rosen. No word yet on whether or not they'll throw Dan "Arvid" Frischman a bone. [THR]

Still shivering and coated in a fine, scarlet mist from a prestige boutique-label bloodbath that saw the shuttering of New Line's Picturehouse and Warner Independent, Hollywood woke up to yet further indie-arm carnage today. A press-release announced that Paramount Vantage would see its marketing, distribution and physical production departments folded into that of its wider-appeal studio host-body, Paramount Pictures:

On a day when feminism in Hollywood swings wildly between pure gender-pandering and impassioned scrotum-punching, we're hearing about one developing project that could potentially split the difference: I Spit on Your Grave, a remake of the notorious 1978 rape-revenge film that made so many friends upon its initial release ("Attending it was one of the most depressing experiences of my life," Roger Ebert wrote in his original review).

Welcome to Hollywood, kid! Hairspray star Nikki Blonsky's meteoric trajectory from no-name Long Islander to Golden Globe-nominated movie star struck its inevitable litigation point Tuesday, when her former managers sued her and her mother for a cut of her earnings from the 2007 hit. Margaret Karaszek and Michael Ostrowski allege they're entitled to a "standard 20 percent cut for helping Blonsky land the role," reports Newsday, which adds that Blonksy nabbed the part of Tracy Turnblad six months after her contract expired with the partners. They say the Blonskys verbally re-upped for two years; a judge, meanwhile declined the Blonsky request to dismiss the case on the grounds that Karaszek and Ostrowski aren't entitled to anything without agent licenses. We give them one week to a settlement, which we predict Blonsky will obligingly pay off by working just one more summer at her old Cold Stone Creamery in Great Neck. [Newsday via People]

An insomniac browse last night at PeterBart.com revealed that the Variety editor's spirited studio defenses have made a remarkably speedy, seamless transition to the blogosphere. Readers seem to be enjoying it as well, alleging stolen stories about DreamWorks on one hand and launching a fascist-tastic comment cascade following Bart's breaking! News! about production resuming on Valkyrie:

After much laughter, present day Heigl asked the reason for the visit from her future self. Future Heigl said, "Well, one, I really needed a Capri Sun. We ran out of these in the future. For the most part, we're doing great in the future aside from the Capri Sun drought. Still working. Nailed the transition to the movies full-time for a little bit, but now, the dismount back into television is proving a bit more difficult. Go figure. Anyways, just wondering if I could borrow some money to produce a demo for Joshua? I thought that VH1 would pay more for a reality series, but the checks are a little smaller than I thought and taking their sweet time getting there." Present day Heigl seemed upset at the news of doing a reality series in the future, but Future Heigl assured her that it's done all in good taste and asked if it would be cool if she took the rest of the Capri Sun supply.

Cindy Adams, the sole-surviving specimen of an age when Gossipsaurs ruled the Earth, has scored an interview with theater impresario Eric Falkenstein. He's the man behind the all-star revival of All My Sons soon to hit Broadway, which stars John Lithgow, Dianne Wiest, Patrick Wilson, and, most notably, Tom Cruise's billion-year war bride Katie Holmes. Falkenstein explains how their decision to go with Katie had everything to do with talent, not ticket-sales:

We've tried anything and everything — flash cards, spreadsheets, mnemonic devices — to help us keep our Brittanys straight over the years. But bless her heart, Brittany Snow is breaking away from the Murphy/Robertson/Daniel pack with recent stand-out work in Hairspray, Prom Night and now something called On the Doll — "a story of the victims of child abuse, and the pain it visits upon their later lives." Among those pains: a full, NSFW minute of Snow pummeling the shit out of some hapless dude's balls, establishing the rising star once and for all in the canon of serious, gonad-smashing actresses of her era. Congratulations to her, and best wishes for a quick rebound from that whole Tinker Bell-firing thing. What? Fuck. Sorry, we swear we'll get them straight eventually. [On the Doll]

Clearly taking its inspiration from Defamer's own Guess the Celebrity Nape—the scruff-scrutinizing contest that's sweeping the nation!—People.com unveiled their own contribution to the celebrity-parts-IDing trivia-game canon with Guess the Feet. It provides hours and hours of fun! (If you're Quentin Tarantino.)

· In today's installment of Rambling Anecdote Theater, Captain Kirk answers a call to Playmate-snapping duty. [Tonight Show]
· Elizabeth Berkley has launched a website where teenage girls can write in for advice. Finally, a place that collects such nuggets of wisdom as this: "Just as Nomi, my character in Showgirls, gets turned on by things that challenge her or obstacles or other hurdles to overcome, those are things that I welcome and I love that." [ask-elizabeth.com]
· Hey, MTV Films: Could we interest you in our spec, The Two Davids: America's Idols? We already have some casting ideas. [Popwatch]
· Come on, Chandler Tempe, AZ voters: If you want change, choose Schmuck! This message approved by Team Schmuck. (Thanks, Dave.) [Defamer]
· Here's the good news: The Larchmont Crumbs opens Friday. Here's the better news: 1000 FREE CUPCAKES. Oh. Ma. Ga. [Eater LA]
· Run for your lives! The British Bachelor Giant will devour us all! [JustJared]

Over the last few days, we have touched on many aspects of the fire that ravaged this town over the weekend: the lost prints, the mystery of the 3am blowtorching, the things we wish would've burned and the destruction of the King Kong attraction. But there is one crucial aspect to the blaze that the media continues to ignore, likely due to the power and influence wielded by a certain member of local government. That man is Mayor "Goldie" Wilson. And while most cower in fear of him, our Intrepid Defamer Videographer Molly McAleer is just the type of woman to stand up to his reprehensible actions (while, at the same time, bringing you this evening's To Do's). Fight the power!

While most of you are no doubt well-acquainted with the Hollywood Walk of Fame—that urine-glazed tribute to some of the most beloved celebrities of the modern era, and Ryan Seacrest—you might not be aware that America's maple-shingled roof has a Walk of Fame of its very own. Established in Toronto a decade ago as a place where tourists and proud Canadians alike could gather to marvel at how tiny Rich Little's hands and feet are, Canada's Walk of Fame is, quite characteristically, much tidier and far less impressive than its inspiration. Still, none could deny that is has grown in the ensuing years into the definitive monument to Canadians Who Left Canada To Achieve Actual Success in the United States.