Fox News has called Ohio (where Obama now leads, 57%-42%, with 8% of precincts reporting) for Obama, and CNN just teased a "big projection." Update: The news nets catch up with reality, after the jump. Updating our previous map, it is now inevitable that Barack Obama, noted author, law professor, community organizer, state Senator, convention keynoter, and US Senator, will be the 44th President of the United States, with a minimum of 284 electoral votes. Go wild kids!!! CNN makes their call So does Fox Click to view

"Honey, I don't even know where to begin with NeNe!" says Anderson Cooper, and we don't know where to begin with this clip, in which the newsman throws some serious shade on Ellen DeGeneres for not watching his favorite guilty pleasure, Real Housewives of Atlanta. Yes, when not globetrotting in Kosovo, interviewing Katrina evacuees, or organizing his closet of medium-size black t-shirts (by frequency of use, natch), the Coop is a reality television devotee. Still, even his love for Dancing with the Stars is eclipsed by his obsession with Real Housewives. Something's gotta fill the void until season two of Living Lohan! Clip above.

Ha. Daily Intel has obtained a photograph of Vogue editor Anna Wintour, the most important woman in fashion, standing in line to vote. This grainy image raises so many questions: Why does she seem to be hiding behind a concrete column? Why have her fellow voters turned their backs on her? And most importantly, is she in the tank? Anna, please write in with answers. This is what democracy looks like. [Daily Intel. Click to enlarge]

Democrats must be particularly anxious today after eight years of Bush. Tim Robbins, actor-director, partner of Susan Sarandon, and a poster child of Hollywood liberalism, was edgier than normal as he waited to cast his vote this morning. Writes in a tipster, who sadly didn't have a cameraphone: "My friend is waiting to vote at the YMCA on 14th between 6th and 7th... Tim Robbins is making a scene, apparently yelling at some dude. And now the police were called and arrived about 10 minutes ago..." What was that all about?

An eagle-eyed political observer noticed a few uncanny similarities between First Lady hopeful Cindy McCain and those victimized blondes populating so much of Alfred Hitchcock's work. We can't say we disagree, though if the natural next step requires Mrs. McCain to race through the Arizona desert tonight with a few thousand stolen dollars from her husband's campaign, we'd urge her to skip the shower when she stops for a rest.

After taking on both Florida Jews and the entire United Kingdom, Sarah Silverman attempted her biggest feat last night: a grilling on Jimmy Kimmel Live by the on/off ex she sorta kinda lambasted at this year's Creative Emmys. And then, as though that weren't awkward enough, Kimmel had an extra surprise in store for Silverman (and it wasn't Matt or Ben).After some loaded, pause-laden banter, Kimmel unveiled footage of a teenage Sarah (just look at that cute little punim!) singing her heart out. Though Silverman was initially horrified by this blast from the past, the clip eventually became a running joke that both comedians cued up when things got a little too frosty. Would that we all had such an option, but here at Defamer, we doubt that even the old VHS of us belting "Tell Me Something Good" (at age 10!) could get us through an awkward, P.F. Chang's-set reunion with some of our exes. Sarah? Jimmy? Good luck with your post-breakup journey, you crazy kids.

Remember when people aspired to be magazine editors? So archaic. Editing a magazine has become pedestrian. Now one must be a magabrand curator, lording over an entire stable of loosely related titles that make up your own media mini-empire. Why should Anna Wintour settle for editing Vogue when she could become the "editorial director" of a whole slew of Vogue spinoffs? That was good aspirational thinking. Until yesterday. Yesterday, Men's Vogue folded. That was a major embarrassment for Anna Wintour. She was a force in the women's fashion world, but she thought she was destined to build her own fashion magazine empire in her own little corner of Conde Nast. MV was supposed to be a big part of that. Now it's dead, along with Fashion Rocks, the huge advertorial project that Conde Nast put on each fall. Teen Vogue is rumored to be shaky as well! That means fashion advertising is weak overall, and Anna's dream is deferred. If not dead. You know who this should be of concern to? Dave "Abs" Zinczenko! And every other aspiring magabrand mogul. Dave Z made his name editing Men's Health, but now he oversees a bunch of "Health" titles, writes ridiculous "Health" books, and goes on the Today show as an expert all the time. He's not an editor, he's a brand name. Until the advertising collapses! Then he's back to being just another dude checking copy and approving pages and hopefully getting out of the office in time to go to the gym, not so he can look good on TV, but just so he can feel good for himself. Don't worry. Pretty soon you'll be thankful just to have those editing jobs. [Pic via Reuters]

The French are getting their handmade lingerie in a knot over a new film called Cliente, about a career lady who pays a male escort for sex. What does it all mean, asks the Times, especially since the French are "less conflicted" sexually than Americans? Is paying for sex What Women Want? Or do they want to Be Like Men? Do we want... a trend piece about what we want? The media has been trying to figure out for decades:

Pamela "Atlas" Geller Oshry is a conservative blogger previously notable only for having vlogged in a bikini, once, and for being totally obsessed with mustachioed former UN ambassador John Bolton. Today, she announced that Barack Hussein Obama is not, as previously reported, the son of Barack Hussein Obama, Sr., but rather the illegitimate son of Malcolm Little, a.k.a. El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, a.k.a. Malcolm X. Yes, she is serious. Honestly? It is too much work to comb through her insanely long and convoluted post in order to write some sort of summary, so we'll just post some random excerpt from her fascinating investigation:

Tomorrow is Halloween! It's a sacred holiday for children, what with the heaping mounds (if you do not feel like a nut) of candy and the fun, scaaarryyy costumes. The costume aspect also makes it something of an important day for adults because, to paraphrase the Dead Kennedys, you get a night of being someone else before you step back into your mold the next day. But really, you're always you and one can tell a lot about a person from their choice of Halloween attire. Really, there are five types of costumes (and only five types of people!), and we'll dissect them—and what they say about their wearer—after the jump.

Magazines for teen girls are dying and magazines in general are dying and it's all very scary but Teen Vogue is NOT going to allow that to happen to them, do you hear me? They are NOT. Too many young women depend on them for fashion tips. And if Teen Vogue has to open up a shop in a mall in New motherfucking Jersey and brainwash young impressionable Jersey girls into becoming vapid monsters of conspicuous consumption in order to stay relevant, well, that's just what Teen Vogue is going to do. Bitch.

The internecine drama between Elisabeth Hasselbeck and Joy Behar receives the lion's share of our attention at Defamer, but as we watched today's show we thought to ourselves, what of the silent war that Hasselbeck's stylists are clearly waging on her? We're generous enough to admit that the conservative co-host usually looks on-point (in a chilly, blond, Fox News kind of a way), but on today's show, her hair was fashioned into a prim "Texas polygamist bride" coiffure that was only outdone by the latest in what has become a Hasselbeck trademark: the pirate shirt.

Being a regular girl is work enough—God knows what being a Cosmogirl entails. A tolerance for fruitinis? The ability to exist on salad alone? The shamelessness required to "[come] to bed in a soaking wet white tee shirt"? We've been gleefully following Cosmopolitan blogger Leo (Smith '07)—her blog's narrative is "one socially awkward girl's attempts to transform into a sexy, social butterfly." At first, we pointed and laughed like bullies—but it was only because deep down, we all feel awkward. We teased her about her use of the word "[doing] the grown-up" as a euphemism for sex, and how she wondered aloud if playing the field was "immoral". We also said that "increasingly, watching her thirty-day evolution at the hands of people who professionally suggest 'how to be a total man-magnet' is like watching a gazelle getting torn apart by hyenas." That was bitchy. But we were rooting for her all along. Leo's written her goodbye post, and we were worried: did the Cosmo machine spit out a Cosmotini-swilling, Choo-wearing girl-droid in the shape of their brand?Writes young Leo:

Last night was all about sex on the Gossip Girl! Last night we saw self-pleasure, the brassiere of a 15-year-old, and smoldering looks between artists and socialites, queen bees and queen... bros? The swirling eddy tossed these Burberry-shelled hermit crabs around and around, and at times, yes, they did manage to bump into one another. Tentative eyes bulging, well-sharpened pincers opening and closing, opening and closing, and um.. I don't know. More tide pool/ocean current metaphors. On with the recap after the jump. Blair! Was taking a taxi to tingle town last night! You know, a solo ride. There was a joke about "coming" and "arriving" and oh dear, poor shamed Dorota murmured that "God is always watching," which is true. And also sort of sad, because it means that Dorota learned English by sitting in her little muddy house in whatever Shtetl she crawled out of, listening to Bette Midler records over and over again. Dorota would also like to tell Blair that love, it is a flower. And she, its only seed. Anyway! Yes, Blair still lusted after Chuckles but would not say those three irritating words and so it was lonely lingers down lone lover's lane for her. Meanwhile Jenny, with a haircut that makes her look even more like Janice from the Muppets than usual, was toiling away at her job in fashions. Wicked old Eleanor was being mean and not letting the 15-year-old girl sit in on the big buyers meetings. So, spurned by Caitlin Cooper from The OC, Jenny decided to take back the night and reclaim the two party frocks that Elie had decided to pass off as her own. Girl powerz! But trouble lurked on the too-bright horizon, as Caitlin Cooper's eyes glowed dangerously and our young filly trotted off dumbly behind her. Dan and Serena were trying to help Blair with her boy business problem, Dan because he wanted to help Serena out and Serena because... eh. Who cares. What's important is that Dan helped B at first, because why not, but eventually the relationship started to sour. Don't you kind of want them to get together? Wouldn't it be kind of amazing? Maybe (probably) someday. While lurking around Pa Humphrey's silly little art gallery, Serena met Aaron Rose, a laboriously be-scarfed young lad from Rhode Island who did weird art with microphones and various stuff. There was an instant attraction and an instant note of displeasure from my roommate, who correctly asserted that Aaron Rose, in the books, is supposed to be Blair's attractive step brother, not some dinky poor man's Lou Taylor Pucci artist. Ah well. Young Nathaniel Archibald was shirtlessly at the Humphreys' crash mansion, sending shivers of sex lightning to Jenny's (and Dan's) flowery loins. At one point Dan and Serena were chatting about Nate and Dan kept saying "I never knew how much Nate—" and then he would get cut off by Serena's phone. I can finish that here: "I never knew how much Nate loved to wake up early and stare out the window, thinking private thoughts. I never knew that he liked cranberry juice and those little toaster cake things for breakfast. I never knew that when laughs, his eyes crinkle in this way that makes him seem kind but sad, like someone much older than he is. I never knew that when he sleeps he makes these little sighing noises that break my heart, every time I hear them. I never knew how much he makes me feel good and brand new and like the world might just be OK after all. I never knew all that about Nate. I never did. But I'm glad I do now. I'm so, so glad." Which is to say, they're in love. Nate and Dan are in love. Except, sigh, Nate seemed to have eyes for young Jenny in this episode, as evidenced by him acting all concerned and, ick, brotherly when she went traipsing off with Caitlin Cooper and her suspiciously aracial photographer friend. Thus began the "holy shit, that 15-year-old girl is dancing around on national television in her delicates" portion of the evening, which came to a swift, floppy, gay end when Natalie Nate swept in and ended the affair. Oh Jenny was so mad! So mad she could suck face with Nate on the sidewalk. It's weird that she went in for the kiss first. Weird because it made no sense given the story and the context, but whatever. Nate never would have made the first move. Because he's in love with her brother. Deeply, deeply in love (see above.) But before this happened, Dan gave Serena the ol' go-ahead to sex it with Scarf Garfunkel, but too late! He motorcycled off with some other lassie. Sad things. Then Blair and Charles Bass met on the roof and moaned endlessly about Brooklyn and then realized they couldn't be together because they just like the thrill of the hunt too much. They're not daters, they're sexual pirates. And they'll always be that way, sunrise, sunset, forever and ever. And gosh darnnit if these aren't the saddest 17-year-olds you've ever seen, I don't want to live in your town. So many complex adult feelings, so many worries and tangled moral philosophies to contend with. None of that "this goes in that hole" and "I like you, you like me, no? Boo hoo" simplicity that colors most teenage interactions. (Which isn't to say that kids aren't deep wells of tortured emotion, they are! But they kind of keep it inside, I think. I think? Maybe not anymore. Maybe we're in some new era of well-articulated emotional disclosure. Who the hell knows.) Anyway, these poor kids. Doomed to languish within the fences of their own designs. The Cookie Monster girl boxed in by her own sweetness, the blonde socialite limited by her tiresome fairness, the British sad clown ruined by his rakishness, the bitchy brunette too cold to thaw out, the uptown boy Greco-Roman wrestling with some unseemly longings, and the Brooklyn lad who loves an Uptown boy, his heart stretching out across rooms and rivers, while an unseen God watches it all from a distance. He watches for the pleasure. He watches for the pain. He watches For the Boys.

Anne Hathaway may be sweetness and all-American good looks on the surface, but what do we really know about her? How would Americans feel if they knew that she palled around with felons? She says Raffaello Follieri was just a guy from the apartment on Fifth Avenue that she shared with him, but they were totally doing it as he pulled off a crazy scam involving the Vatican. When he was convicted of fraud and money laundering, Hathaway severed ties. But she's still connected to a sleazy voter registration syndicate that now stands accused of filing false registrations in New York, Virginia, Ohio, and Florida. That's right—Anne Hathaway's in the pocket of Rock the Vote. This "organization representing the intersection of young people, politics and popular culture" was started in 1992 by some sleazy Hollywood entertainment industry types and they'd been trying to swing elections ever since with nihilistic "grunge music" and godless celebrities. The group lets would- be election defrauders print out unlimited voter registration forms they access from their "Xboxes" and "iPhones." Then Rock the Vote helpfully sends all the forms to the wrong place and no one is registered. Democracy! [Update: Rock the Vote says the New York Board of Elections screwed up! No Times correction yet!] Anne Hathaway got tied up in this modern-day Tammany Hall, of course:

There are certain guests Late Show host David Letterman just has to have on, by dint of popularity or importance, and you got the feeling he was getting the worst out of the way all at once last night. Letterman's lineup started with humor-challenged Fox News shouting head Bill O'Reilly before moving on to empty-vessel Hills star Lauren Conrad. There were plenty of painful moments. But then there were also delightful interludes in which Letterman couldn't help but slice into his guests. Click the video icon to watch the attached clip, in which Letterman basically calls Conrad an idiot before backing off in a fit of giggles and self deprecation.

When you're just a lonely regular person, you can always post a personal ad on Craigslist. But what if you're a lonely celebrity person? And not just any celebrity person, but a celebrity person with a medical degree and board certification, who millions turn to regularly for health advice? Well, then it's not so easy. For starters, forget the Craigslist personals, and move over to the help wanted section—because what you're looking for is a PR assistant to help you weed through the available dating pool, smoking out the social-climbers, the gold-diggers, and the butterfacers in search of The One:

BREAKING: We hear that Radar, the smart-shallow magazine and website, is laying off "EVERYONE." Repeat: "EVERYONE." Including some beloved former Gawker editors. This will be everyone's last day at the office, apparently. The New York Observer says that "there might a business arrangement to keep the web site afloat and that it will be sold to AMI," although we've heard no confirmation of that [UPDATE: It's true]. It appears that Radar chief Maer Roshan has, indeed, killed trees until all the money is gone.

What the hell? The stores where GOP robocaller/professional Palin shopper Jeff Larson supposedly bought $150,000 worth of shit for Sarah to wear to fancy conventions? Yes well some stores listed in the records don't have any receipts proving these purchases, you know, happened. Which is kinda funny, and helps explain why Governor Palin does not really look $150,000 better-dressed than she did before the conventions! ($10k better maybe.) So what happened to that money, then?

When Elisabeth Hasselbeck wore a John McCain-boosting T-shirt on Tuesday's installment of The View, little did she know it would set off a 24-hour, Defamer-consuming chain reaction that would lead to booing, a now-notorious backstage conflict, and a through-the-looking-glass emergence of this humble blogspot as one of the show's Hot Topics (also, it introduced us to Sheetzucacapoopoo — thanks, Elisabeth!). Now, as Hasselbeck prepares to introduce vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin at two Florida rallies this weekend, one of our agents at The View informs us that the problematic T-shirt was the subject of a contentious ABC conference call today: