· As we all probably know by now—i.e., we would've heard about the universe being sucked into a manhole outside The Late Show's Ed Sullivan Theate—Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes didn't wed last night in front of Letterman. But our CrazyTalk was right about the judge (and it appears sister site Gawker was talking to the same squirrel), because Letterman considerately made one available in the green room in case the crazy-in-fake-love couple wanted to tie the knot right then and there. They also turned down a chance to consummate their love in a dressing room filled with rose petals and an instructional Kama Sutra mural painted on the wall. Maybe they'll hit the love-room next time they have something to promote.
· Cruise also dropped in on The Today Show, where he taught Matt Lauer a thing or two about the evils of psychiatry: "You don’t even know what Ritalin is! If you read the papers on how they came up with the drug, the dosage… You should be more responsible in knowing what it is. I am responsible. I know these things." You heard the man: He knows things. (While we were sleeping off some coast-to-coast jetlag—why did we get out bed again?—Gawker helpfully transcribed the exchange.) Also: The AP has already documented the Today Show fracas.
· Wrapping up our team coverage, Gizmodo takes a look at the e-meter (you've heard the jokes, now see the gadget!). It turns out that the device is indeed somewhat more complicated than a couple of tin cans, some string, and a joy buzzer. But can a joy buzzer help free you from those troublesome body thetans? We think not.

· Sayeth the Lohan: "I don't get involved in any drama." Of course, this I'm-above-it-all stance only applies to the displacement of bushmen by De Beers diamond miners, not something as monumentally important as the placement of one of her songs in her new movie or the guest list at a party at the Standard.
· "9:05 a.m. Relish life free from negative trappings of the reactive mind, God-like status of perfect mental, emotional, and physical health, and general infallibility. 9:29 a.m. Toast bagel."
· Please feel free to return to your regular, uninterrupted sleep patterns: Hermes has apologized to Oprah.
· A photography icon refuses to give an approving hand-job to the photography book Ben Stiller edited, nearly throwing the Earth off its celebrity ass-kissing axis. [via LA Observed]

Given that many of you may have fainted dead away from the apparent obviousness of this blind item, let's end this charade and get to your guesses. But first, as always, the refresher course in One Randy-Candy Blind Vice:

Welcome to another edition of Defamer CrazyTalk™, in which we down three Vicodin-Red Bull cocktails and wait for a cute squirrel with a unicorn horn to tell us some completely unverifiable rumor that we nonetheless feel compelled to share with you, the reader who is admirably unconcerned with the potentially hilarious inaccuracy of said rumor. Ready for today's squirrel-gram? Good.

We blame today's NY Times piece on Being Bobby Brown, the troubled singer/bon vivant's new reality show, for the time that's about to disappear in a summerlong game of Bobby and Whitney-assisted Edward Fortyhands:

Wherein we invite our readers to stare at the words randomly arranged in humpy E! gossip spin-artist Ted Casablanca's weekly blind item, feign comprehension, and make a wild guess as to the carefully obscured identity of this week's naughty celebrity. Tiptoe through the delicate field of daisies that is One Randy-Candy Blind Vice:

Now that Jennifer Aniston's (mostly) out of the picture and Brads Pitt and Grey have engineered the long-expected move of Pitt's Plan B production company to Grey's New Paramount™, the two pals can finally shrug off Aniston's icy stare and tell the world how they feel about each other:

Today's Rush & Molloy column in the NY Daily News reports that the War of the Worlds folks have finally tired of "journalists" and their insistently suppressive prose and banned all print media from tonight's premiere in New York City. Well, not all print media, as they've granted something of a exclusive to People magazine, whose planned twenty-page spread of Tom Cruise personally feeding an entire nursery full of crack-addicted kittens from a medicine dropper probably had nothing at all to do with their Most Favored Rag status.

The drifter who was accused of stalking Mel Gibson was sentenced to three years of hard time, leaving the action star and his family free to pray in peace:

On the one hand, you're skinny, manic (some might say the life of the party!), and you assault the occasional fan with a microphone or let one suckle your breast in a Wendy's. On the other hand, you live a potentially longer, drug-free life, avoid repeated run-ins with cranky judges, and get your daughter back, but your new, "healthier" frame isn't doing that still-developing movie career any favors, and when you stand next to Pamela Anderson at a premiere, everyone is vaguely afraid that you might devour her.

Lindsay Lohan stopped by the Letterman show last night to plug her latest masterwork of modern cinema, Herbie: Fully Loaded, and to do the kind of light image rehabilitation that must accompany any of her public appearances. There was a time when The Breast Question was the one she needed a quick answer for (if memory serves, it was "I blossomed!"); now it appears that Lohan's publicists have retrofitted the old breast party line for The Weight Question (which, naturally, is the polite, thinly veiled version of The Drugs Question), as she told Letterman she owes her new stick-figure to "puberty," that wonderful transition to womanhood that Lohan claimed only to have undergone at the age of 17. This makes perfect sense, for when we think of Lindsay Lohan, the phrase "late bloomer" is always prominent in our mind.

· Listen guys, Lindsay works very, very hard! Don't judge her if she throws a fit when Disney shits all over that hard work.
· Maybe a bear claw, sure, but a Munchkin? Nah, we don't see it.
· We'd always had a creeping feeling that the curiously animated old guy from the Six Flags commercials had a deep, dark secret, but we're surprised at just how deep and dark it is.
· Hmmm. You'd think that with all that weed Woody Harrelson smokes, he'd be an excellent driver.
· That Tom Cruise character is so electric. But you knew that already.

Celebrity Justice reports that someone has appropriated one of Nicolas Cage's former e-mail addresses for the purposes of fraudulent naughty-talk, and is sending Cage's pals and business associates filthy e-greetings:

Boi From Troy relates the sad tale of how Lindsay Lohan's rack of yore [Ed.note—Sigh...yes, we remember it well.] may have sabotaged Tower Records' plans to, ahem, erect a JumboTron-like billboard on Sunset:

Please accept this picture of Jeremy Piven out carousing during the Entourage gang's recent trip to Vegas as a token of our contrition for mounting the proverbial pooch on the Leo DiCaprio picture. And we're far too ignorant to know how Viagra works its turgid magic, but if you divide the 16 minute refractory period between two eager fans, does that technically cut the "turnaround time" down to eight minutes? Just wondering.

OK, now that we've seen the truly scary picture* of the aftermath, maybe we were wrong. While Leonardo DiCaprio was getting stitched up following the bottle attack, he was probably praying that he'd tortured the public with a suspicious relationship so thoroughly that some pranksters merely humiliated him with a little water from a fake microphone.

Due to today's proliferation of Cruise-Holmes stories, we're forced to assume the round-up position. Tuesday is for fake lovers:

In an effort to achieve a more acceptable level of Jack Nicholson Sexual Verisimilitude, the actor reportedly "rewrote" some of his sex scenes in Martin Scorsese's The Departed to include some of his tools of the trade. From Rush & Molloy:

The rootin', tootin' gossip cowpokes over at Page Six jump atop the Butterscotch Stallion, dig in their blind item spurs, and ride the bucking steed all the way to Salad Tossing Junction:

While the The NY Daily News' legal department was passed out underneath tables at various Hamptons nightclubs this weekend, Ben "Gatecrasher" Widdicombe snuck this highly anonymous, completely inscrutable tidbit into his weekend column: