· Want to read more about the Dixie Chicks' big night at the Grammys? Of course you do. [Variety, THR]
·Reese Witherspoon unexpectedly ditches Endeavor (her home for just a year) for CAA after being promised that if she signed with the evil agenting monolith, the committed mother's young children would never be featured as lunch specials at their new headquarters. Rumors that the agency's pitch also included an ominous pledge to "take care" of ex-husband Ryan Phillippe should he ever "become a problem" are unconfirmed. [Variety]
· The Grammys recover nicely from last year's humiliating buggering at the hands of American Idol, as seeking refuge on an Idol-free Sunday night leads to an 18 percent boost over 2006's all-time low ratings. [THR]
· MTV Networks announces a "sweeping round" of layoffs in a variety of divisions, with the death toll expected to reach 250 staff positions. Happy Monday! [Variety]
· In today's WTF? casting news (but really, doesn't each new Cage gig announcement elicit that kind of reaction?), Nicholas Cage is attached to star in Disney's live-action adaptation of The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Luckily, he'll play the sorcerer, not an off-puttingly intense dancing broom. [THR]

If you're legitimately interested in last night's Grammys, we'd usher you over to our record-store clerk cousins at Idolator, who liveblogged every Justin-Timberlake-making-love-to-a-lipstick-cam moment. Meanwhile, we'll apportion our typical amount of interest in the proceedings, while breathing a sigh of relief in the knowledge that if the Oscars were to excellence in movies what the Grammys are to music, Ron Howard would be looking at an inevitable Da Vinci Code win. The night belonged to the Dixie Chicks, who won record and song of the year for "Not Ready to Make Nice," their country-lite flip-off to former fans who called for various CD- and witch-burnings in recent years, and Carrie Underwood, whose wins offered further evidence of Simon Cowell's unequalled nose for sniffing out a great rack-voice combo:

It took us almost two days, but we've finally found something from the Grammys more unsettling than a possibly senile Paul McCartney (he's got to be, right?) being tricked into performing with Linkin Park—namely, this photo of burgeoning hip-hop superstar K-Fed and kiddie car-seat eschewing scofflaw Britney Spears. We're sure it's just a trick of perspective, but we could swear that Federline isn't flashing a peace sign, but actually using those two fingers to slide his meal ticket's dress down just enough to create some cocktail dress/areola separation. ("Hey baby, look what I just done! PopoZao, little nipple motherfucker!") If you're frustrated by the censored version above, clicking the image will produce a more revealing, NSFW version that will undoubtedly brighten your Friday afternoon.

Today's Page Six reports on the "multiple meltdowns" that followed in the wake of Wednesday night's Grammy awards ceremony, including a road-clogging snafu incited by America's Favorite Fauxteur:

The Grammys were, well, the Grammys. Allowing yourself to become frustrated by the absurdity of the event is like bringing your toddler to the doctor every time he fills his diaper, demanding to know why he's broken. And so once you make the unfortunate choice to tune in, there's nothing to do but sink a little deeper into the couch each time brain-damaged Grammy producers facilitate the unholy onstage pairing of Madonna and Gorillaz, Mary J. Blige and U2, and Sir Paul McCartney, The Only Living Beatle, Even Though Ringo Continues To Draw Breath Somewhere, We Think and Linkin. Fucking. Park., suspecting that the music in an eternally stopped elevator in Hell is less insanity-provoking.

Anyone who's ever sacrificed three hours of their lives to the Grammys show know that no one actually cares who wins, only who plays; five minutes after the show, that year's Best New Artist disappears into obscurity, but the unholy noises created by the centerpiece mash-up performance of Bono, Tim McGraw, any former boy-bander with a new solo album, and the ghost of George Harrison will induce uncomfortable auditory hallucinations for months (and now, abetted by iTunes, potentially forever). According to the LAT, nobody knows this better than music executives and managers, who'll move heaven and earth to insure their clients get to lip-sync in front of an audience of millions:

Hey, remember when awards like the Grammys used to, like, matter? Us neither, but we're sure that at some point they must've, right?! Maybe in an era before inexpicably named bands like Maroon 5 and SugarLand, both of which are nominated for awards this year, perfectly exemplifying why the Grammy lacks any sort of prestige. And, to make matters worse, Mariah Carey's garnered nominations all over the place, which only encourages her to continue making offensive fashion choices. (To wit, she's on the Today show right now, discussing wardrobe malfunctions. Seriously.)