• Madonna's estranged, tell-all-writing brother Chris Ciccone blamed Kabbalah for her divorce from Guy Ritchie. Others, meanwhile, blame Ritchie's "unsympathetic" reaction to her 2005 fall from a horse, which broke eight bones.

♦ Madonna and Guy Ritchie's divorce wasn't a huge revelation after months of rumors. But now it turns out the couple hadn't even been on speaking terms for months, and had been communicating through their assistants. Also: Guy may lose custody of his sons if Madonna decides to leave London and settle in NYC full-time. [Us, People]
♦ The namecalling has started: Madonna called Guy "emotionally retarded" at her Boston concert on Wednesday night, and now Guy's father is calling Madonna "beastly." [The Sun, Telegraph]
♦ Peter Cook and Diana Bianchi aren't happy about the leak of their sex tape. Who's to blame? Peter is blaming Diana. Diana, meanwhile, says it couldn't have been her since she didn't even know he was taping them having sex in his Southampton office. [P6, ET]
♦ Did Tea Leoni have a fling with Billy Bob Thorton while she was still with David Duchovny? [Extra, E!]

Now that the cat has tumbled mewling out of the divorce bag and she's begun saying nasty things about her husband in public, pop icon (popcon?) Madonna is at a metaphorical crossroads. Where do you go once you've escaped suburban Detroit banality, conquered the grimy 1980's New York City club scene, become a music and fashion superstar, attempted acting in movies and Broadway plays, borne approximately 143 reinvention comebacks from your be-hot-panted loins, settled down with a film director husband and cobbled together a hodgepodge of children, become a fitness-obsessed British lady, written children's books, directed your own film, worked your arms into clobbering, veiny horror shows, and then suddenly the happy quiet marriage dissolves and you're free to be yourself again? What's a material girl to do? We'll offer some suggestions after the jump. Become a Worldly, Knowing Head of State She's not tearing up the charts like she used to, she's not setting hearts aflutter, she's not even shocking anyone anymore. It's time we all—bourgeoisie and rebel—face the Music: the Age of Madonna has ended. Hell, the Age of Britney has ended. The pop music world is now dominated by skinny, moaning white boys, fiercely syncopated black ladies, and throwbacky retro British chicks. There's no room, really, for a 50-year-old with a message. Which is why Madge ought to hang up the riding crop and rest comfortably on her throne as the lifetime achievement Queen of Pop. (There's a spot next to hers where Michael Jackson should be sitting, but that whole thing went off the rails somewhere a few years back). Let the young ones claw their way around the industry, hoping for some attention. They're all trying to be Madonna anyway. Why mess with a classic and release subpar albums and muddle through rickety tours? Take a break, babe. You deserve it. And hey, now that your husband's out of the picture, you can declare Prima Nocta and bed every Joe and Jim Jonas who comes sexually blossoming across your path. They're yours by right. By Godly cree. Pause For Some Introspection The great thing about being a fabulous, wealthy, creative superstar is that when you fuck up or are fucked over, you get to stern your face up, put on some amazingly big sunglasses and be strong about it. People will call you a hero simply for breathing in and out, putting one foot in front of the other. So maybe Madonna should emulate her adopted country's stiff upper lip, turn inwards, and then a year or so from now, release some quiet, heartfelt album about what it means to be 50-years-old and alone again (save for those kids, but whatevs). Pen some soaring tunes with lyrics that talk about change and rebirth and the mystical cycles of things—the moon spins and so do wheels and carousels and what's so amazing that keeps us stargazing and how are we moving forward if all we're doing is turning around and around. That kind of thing. People will call her brave and reinvigorated and the definitive voice of her generation. (The funny thing being that Madonna's fans have generally always been just slightly younger than her.) She'll play Carnegie Hall and maybe even chat with someone on NPR and she'll finally get that classiness she's so desperately craved ever since she had a fleeting taste of it back in the Bedtime Stories/Evita days. Go Crazy Yeah, maybe she should just go nuts. Turn into an eccentric woman-of-a-certain-age. Hole up in her London apartment and emerge only to yell at songbirds or snatch cats off the street or go floating down the street swathed in caftans and turbans. She could say big, sweeping, beautiful things like "What a world it used to be, the old world. It's dead now. Dead and gone. In the old world we had parties every day and nobody cried because they were sad. Even when we were sad, we were happy." And she could become a drunk and always have some glass of amber-colored something or other swirling around. And maybe she could grab beautiful young men by the ears and cock her head a little nuttily and say, almost to herself, "so pretty. Pretty pretty little pet. I wonder how much you are. Everything's so expensive these days. Everything costs so very much. Don't they, pretty pet? Don't they..." and then she'll glide off cackling. It could be pretty fucking awesome, and at the young age of 50, she'd be getting a good head start on it. It could grow and change and evolve over the next 30-plus years! By the time she's 85, she could be writing long, curious letters to the editors of various newspapers in South America, accusing lampposts of being Nazis and calling the neighbor's dog Mussolini. And it would be fabulous. Or, you know, she could just continue working out and raising her children and maybe spend a little more time in New York than she has been and that will be that. Maybe she'll move to Connecticut and buy a Volvo. The world will just have to wait and watch. And really, isn't that the wonderful thing about Madonna? You just never know what's coming next.

The radioactivity of Madonna and Guy Ritchie's combustion has settled nicely around our culture since Wednesday, yielding glowing little piles of second-guesses, third-guesses and other detritus helping us make sense of the biggest matrimonial disaster of the year. Here to help you with your wasteland exploration, Defamer's Biohazard Squad suited up this morning to map the terrain; their findings are after the jump.· Madge's first concert after the announcement went off as planned in Boston, where the singer introduced her number "Miles Away" with the loving dedication, "This song is for the emotionally retarded. Maybe you know some people who fall into that category. God knows I do." Many experts linked the comment to her soon-to-be-ex-husband, but in any case, the other 11,000 emotionally retarded fans in attendance whooped with appreciation at the shout-out. · Or maybe Madonna intended the dig for her lying flack Liz Rosenberg, who's one Oprah ban away from officially joining the Pop-Culture Pariah Hall of Fame after drawing censure from both Page Six and People Magazine in the same day.

Uh oh, the Madonna divorce may be getting ugly and, God bless us all, public. While muscling her way through her Sticky & Sweet show in Boston last night, the Queen of Pop made reference to the "emotionally retarded" when introducing a song about her soon-to-be-ex-husband, film director Guy Ritchie. Which, um, zing? She also opened the show with her tune "Human Nature," which is about not being sorry about things and features the oft repeated lyric "I'm not sorry." Though, she's been hinting at this for a week now. You may remember that last week ol' Madge was in New York, and said cryptically at her concert: "In exactly 29 moves, the Queen will dump the King." She had 29 tour dates left at that point, and I guess she was hoping to keep the gargantuanly expensive divorce (like lots of millions of dollars, or about six pounds) under wraps until her tour ended. But, I guess she was just too giddy about the exciting, shitty news so she made sly and self-important references to it in beloved old Boston and I guess we'll eat it up. A messy public divorce would be just the right thing to take Maddy from her too-comfortable role as fitness-crazed London mommy to bitter, song-spewing, 50-year-old chick from Detroit with scores to settle. Madonna's been way too nice for the past few years. Let's hope that her Beantown outburst means that the bitch is back. [Daily Mail]

♦ Now that Madonna and Guy Ritchie have officially split, the focus is now on her relationship with Alex Rodriguez: Some say he knew that the separation announcement was coming, which is why he's been "lying low" in a five-star Beverly Hills hotel for the past few days. [Us, NYP, E!]
♦ How's Guy doing? Don't worry about him: He could walk away with as much as $250 mil. in a settlement since he and Madonna never had a prenup. [NYP]
♦ A sex tape starring Peter Cook and Diana Bianchi may be out there, although Cook's lawyers are still saying he has "no knowledge" it exists. [P6]
♦ David Duchovny and Tea Leoni have officially split up. We're as shocked as you are [E!]
♦ Raffaello Follieri didn't just swindle adults. He also tricked a 15-year-old girl by promising to get her Anne Hathaway's autograph and then never coming though. Now she's suing him. [NYDN]

It's Official: The AP is reporting that the Madonna's publicist has confirmed the singer's rumored split from Guy Ritchie: "A statement e-mailed to The Associated Press from Madonna spokeswoman Liz Rosenberg says the couple has agreed to divorce, and asks the media to respect their privacy." Especially this week in Boston, where excellent seats are still available for tomorrow's Madonna concert at the TD Banknorth Garden. Seriously, people — back off! [CNN]

So the Sun, England's most tasteful, reputable daily tabloid, sent word around late Tuesday that Madonna and Guy Ritchie will officially divorce by the end of the year. ("They can't bear the pretence!") We unpacked our grain of salt while sorting through the months of rumors preceding this one, but with everyone from the AP to Time hitching on and the singer's exasperated rep admitting, "We're not going to know anything until the US wakes up," all public signs indicate this is finally it. After the jump, a quick recap of how we got here, and what's likely next.While split talk had jammed the tabloids essentially since the day they were married in 2000, with Madonna publicly grumbling for years now about her unfulfilled sex needs, the gossip was all so much noise until the fantastic Madgerod Cynthavitz controversy that exploded over the summer. The scandal placed Madonna in Yankees slugger/"fucking soulmate, dude" Alex Rodriguez's comforting, Kabbalah-friendly arms, while A-Rod's wife Cynthia retreated to Paris for an extended stay in an apartment owned by Lenny Kravitz. "Nothing to see here," said Kravitz, who urged calm while Madonna's flack denied that A-Rod had ever charged her client's mound. Fine, then. Except the Rodriguezes divorced soon after, and as recently as two weeks ago Madonna and A-Rod were reportedly spotted dining together again in New York. This while Ritchie fled the spotlight, tapering off press for his new film RockNRolla and jetting back to England to commence shooting Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey Jr.. So last night's announcement seems ideally timed for both him and Madge, who is five shows into her Sticky & Sweet world tour, where nearly half of her 25 American dates have yet to sell out. Oh — and her new own directorial debut, Filth and Wisdom, opens in New York and LA this Friday. Convenient! Not so convenient: The economy of Splitsville. The London Times reports today that the couple didn't have a pre-nup, thus encouraging Madonna to file for divorce in the States, where she'd likely earn a more favorable take from her and Ritchie's $600 million fortune. If Ritchie fights for a London divorce, the legal saga could play out for upward of a year. We don't buy for a second that these details aren't already arranged between the two, but the Times adds that still doesn't guarantee an official split by Christmas, as Madge reportedly hopes for. Certainly there's more to follow, which we'll report as it happens. In the meantime, don't look so down! We'll always have Swept Away.

Madonna and filmmaker Guy Ritchie are divorcing, according to Madonna's publicist, Liz Rosenberg. The couple is now asking the media to "maintain respect for their family at this difficult time." (Good luck with that.) And the announcement is not expected to disrupt Madge's touring schedule. She performs tonight and tomorrow in Boston. [AP]

♦ Are Madonna and Guy Ritchie really divorcing? It might be another rumor or really a Sun exclusive, but the British tabloid says they plan to announce the split as soon as today. [The Sun]
♦ Christie Brinkley is suing Peter Cook for violating the couple's confidentiality agreement by talking about their relationship on 20/20. [NYP]
♦ The "mystery illness" that's caused Janet Jackson to cancel tour dates is supposedly a vestibular migraine, which "induces the sensation of vertigo." The good news is that now she's apparently cured. [ET]
♦ Raffaello Follieri's lawyers yesterday asked a judge to "go easy" on Raffaello in exchange for his quick return to Italy where he'll "never be heard from again." Ha! [NYDN]
♦ The 40-year-old CEO of a company called Future Tech Enterprise on Long Island is actually paying $20,000 to box Michael Lohan. And Stephen Baldwin is now planning to serve as the match judge. [Newsday via NYO]

Here we have your first look at Robert Downey Jr. in Guy Ritchie's SherlocknRolla take on Sir Conan Doyle's classic creation. The director has apparently abandoned Holmes's iconic deerstalker cap, cloak, and pipe in favor of a bowler hat, stripey vest, and gigantic Starbucks beverage. ("No foam skim latte, my dear Watson!")It's a look that—stop us if we're way off here—is virtually indistinguishable from the one he wore in Chaplin. Like, right down to the bunched up vest and baggy tweed trousers? Hopefully Downey's considerable gifts will help us shake the looming expectation that at any given moment, the detective might sit down to a hearty meal of a leather boot before heading into the London fog to solve The Problem of the One-Legged Beefeater. [Photo credit: Bauer Griffin]

Welcome back to Defamer Attractions, your regular guide to everything new, noteworthy and potentially hideous this week at the movies. Today we see another fistful of titles tossed on the fall-release glut, none of which may have the stamina to outlast Disney's purse dog in a three-day race at the box office. We also have our refined eye on the weekend's most disappointing opening as well as our official art-house underdog, plus a few cherry-picked new DVD titles for the shut-ins among you. You know how this works by now: Our opinions are our own, but with free, near-gemological precision like this, why go anywhere else?WHAT'S NEW: Yesterday we broke down some of our problems with Body of Lies, starring Leonardo DiCaprio as a CIA operative entangled in the boilerplate "web of intrigue" when his sketchy boss (Russell Crowe) dispatches him to Jordan to zzzzzzzzz... Critics aren't behind it, and it's too late in the year for Warner Bros. to push this as anything more than the beach-reading it is. Which doesn't mean it can't finish in first place, of course — even though it won't. Beverly Hills Chihuahua will sprint out the stretch over Body's lumbering, wheezing frame, narrowly outgrossing Warners' $16 million for the week's biggest dogtrack upset. Warners will do much better distributing RockNRolla for Guy Ritchie and Joel Silver on a smattering of screens in LA and New York before going wide on Halloween, but that's pocket change below Universal's football biopic The Express (should open strong around $15.2 million), the B-horror Quarantine ($11.9 million), the family adventure City of Ember ($6.6 million) and finally in wide release, Keira Knightley nifty bodice-ripper The Duchess ($5.2 million). Eagle Eye and Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist will skim off everyone's top as well with a combined $16 million for the weekend. Also opening: Mike Leigh's latest annoyance Happy-Go-Lucky; the quirky microbudget romance Good Dick; the gay family dramedy Breakfast With Scot; Daddy Yankee's gangland redemption saga Talento de Barrio; and the self-explanatory biopic Billy: The Early Years of Billy Graham. THE BIG LOSER: Equipped as it is for international support and a long life on DVD and cable, $20 million is still the low end of studio expectations for Body of Lies. It won't come anywhere close.

Perhaps mindful that her McCain/Hitler concert montage went over about as well as a soiled dominatrix outfit, pop superstar Madonna has returned to the well that attracted her the most attention this year: her are-they-or-aren't-they flirtation with New York Yankee Alex Rodriguez. Though Madonna's camp had quelled the rumors before by having her step out with husband Guy Ritchie, the director is now overseas shooting Sherlock Holmes, and Us Weekly says that Madonna seized the opportunity to meet up with Rodriguez once more:

• Gordon Ramsay says he's partnering with Victoria Beckham to open a restaurant in LA. Yes, a restaurant. Whether she'll actually taste any of the food served there is anybody's guess. [P6]

Hope a Fox News production assistant has been dispatched to pick up a big box of cupcakes: right-wing cable blowhard Bill O'Reilly is celebrating his 59th birthday today. Fellow News Corp. employee (and Irishman) Keith Kelly is turning 54. Guy Ritchie is celebrating his 40th. Manorexic fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld is 75 (although he tells people he's only 70). Ryan Phillippe is 34. Nightlife vet Tracy Westmoreland is 52. British actor Colin Firth is 48. Golfing great Arnold Palmer is 79. Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry is 58. And Sanjaya Malakar, the former American Idol contestant best known for his hair styling talents, is turning 19.

The Toronto Film Festival is right about at its midway point — an essential milestone from which to take stock of noteworthy developments and drama that we couldn't help but watch smolder from Defamer HQ. And while some of our principal plotlines either have yet to unwind (Paris and her doc show up tomorrow) or were resolved to our satisfaction (The Wrestler wins the fest's distribution sweepstakes), there remains a bundle of loose ends requiring maintenance and attention from a distance. That's Canada for you! · A National Post writer went to the party for Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, where Michael Cera bumped around wearing his backpack and Kat Dennings, ahem, "gave off the unpretentious dewiness that is a visa of sorts to the country of bigger fame for starlets-on-the-climb." And if that fails, there's always Robert Rodriguez's hot tub.· Tired of his besties at Warner Bros., Patrick Goldstein upgraded in Toronto with newfound documentary sensation LeBron James. The NBA star is featured in Hoop Dreams-ish coming-of-age saga More Than a Game, which tracks five kids — including James (it was only six years ago!) — from their "decrepit inner-city gym" to their contention for a national high school basketball championship. It apparently made James cry and made producer/music mogul Jimmy Iovine call Goldstein, who pimps it lovingly, noting that Lionsgate might be at the front of the line to pick it up. · At last night's Sony Pictures Classics dinner, Anne Hathaway's shoes deflected attention from Charlie Kaufman's public awkwardness. That was nice of them! · Which reminds us: Celebrities! Starlets! Ptooey! Canada for the Canadians! [Via David Poland] · Does anyone up there has a spare camera he or she can lend to Jeffrey Wells? "Three young apes" stole his — and his iPhone. And he missed The Wrestler. At least buy the guy a drink or something if you see him. · Jesus — first The Wrestler, now Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Todd McCarthy is turning into Harry Knowles. · Tasting a hint of assent from critics and the public alike, Guy Ritchie OD'd on confidence and announced an entire Rocknrolla franchise. Last we heard, Joel Silver was still shopping the first one.

• Alessandra Ambrosio just gave birth, but she isn't wasting any time. She's reportedly already looking to sell pictures of her newborn daughter Anja to the tabloids. [P6]

Add another "maybe" to our speculation about Joel Silver's future at Warner Bros.: Reports today indicate that the slumping superproducer is shopping around Guy Ritchie's Rocknrolla, a Dark Castle project scheduled for release by WB in October. Maybe. Now Lionsgate and Sony are supposedly in talks to pick up the action/crime thriller lest Warners overextend itself this fall with titles inherited from New Line (Pride and Glory), Picturehouse (The Women) and Warner Independent (Slumdog Millionaire, Towelhead). We think this falls into the "content is king" model evinced recently by Alan Horn, Barry Meyer and the higher-ups at Time Warner — as in, "This content is kind of terrible... Do we really have to release this?" At least that's the impression Horn apparently left with LAT BFF Patrick Goldstein:

Madonna broke into the public consciousness not because of her vocal talents, but because of her catchy tunes, dance fever, and suggestively nymphomaniac tendencies. But now, the nearly-50-year old has finally morphed into the modern day Britney Spears: she's forcing unwilling male stars to pull down their pants, she's making headlines mainly due to a messy divorce, rumored affairs and plastic surgery rumors. Just as the British tabs begin to accuse the failed director/actress of going under a very sharp knife, it seems as though the exercise addict has used her seduction technique of shooting B-12 shots into hunky acquaintances’ butts. But this time around, unlike the soaring success story that was Justin Timberlake’s energizing vitamin-equipped ass, her second attempt on quasi-ex-husband Guy Ritchie’s newest leading man, Gerard Butler, left the poor man’s Clive Owen “severely ill.” Butler’s tale of Madge’s terrorist attack on his “little bum,” plus the allegations being made about how the extremes the Yankee doodler’s “grueling” beauty regime have affected her oddly sharp cheekbones and “popping veins,” after the jump.Cameron Diaz' ex and 3000 star Gerard Butler (we keep trying to forget that we first noticed him in Phantom Of The Opera even though every time we see his now-rugged face we can't help picturing him over-earnestly busting out "Music Of The Night") is fortunate enough to be starring in Ritchie's upcoming Rocknrolla, which means he was unfortunate enough to run into Madge at some point during filming. And as we learned months ago, the Ritchie groupie is always equipped with a baggie filled with needles filled to the brim with Lindsay Lohan's favorite "asthma attack" cure, Vitamin B-12. But according to Butler, the normally healthy kick to the ass advertised extensively be Madonna's most fickle supporter/critic Justin Timberlake, "the injection failed to boost Butler's immune system - and left him feeling worse than before." Even more embarrassing for Madge, Butler describes her as "the nurse" on set. Meaning she's gone from platinum singer to failed director to failed on-set medical assistant. Frankly we don't blame her if she did get some "filler in her cheeks," as a Daily Mail plastic surgery believes. A little nip and tuck, which, in Madonna's case, doesn't look as horrific as the tab makes it out to be, can go a long way in boosting one's self-esteem. Just look at Bat Face victim Nicole Kidman — it's almost like she never looks unhappy, even when she's so bored by her husband's music that she nods out for a while! [Photo credits: Splash]

• Jay Leno, on an erroneous magazine cutline reading "Host of The Tonight Show on ABC:" "It's like a headline from the future." [Deadline Hollywood]