The Sex and the City backlash is in full swing! Isn't it just awful, with its squawking, sideways attacks on feminism, its materialistic hedonism, its Brooklyn-bashing, and its general New York-ruining? Recent articles in the Post and in Time Out New York certainly seem to think so. Though, with two weeks remaining until the big movie sashays into theaters, we suspect that the backlash will earn its own backlash. What will people say? And who's right, the pros or the cons? After the jump find five of the biggest arguments against Sex and the City, how its fans might respond, and who we think is right (and fabulous).

Tonight begins the two-part, three hour long finale of this most wonderful of seasons of Lost. The ABC mind-bender show has been in top form this year, with its tantalizing ballet of bobs and weaves, feints and hints. We now know who the Oceanic Six are, but still not why they are (we will learn something about that tonight). We know a little about time travel, some new tidbits about the island's history, and a little more about who's gonna dieeee (Chahhlee.) As we slowly start to bundle up for the long, cold nuclear winter of having no Lost until next January, let's enjoy these final moments. Here is EW.com's Doc Jensen with a typically thorough and engaging episode preview and, after the jump if you're so inclined, are some sneak peeks from tonight's installment. (With a familiar face, for Battlestar Galactica fans.) The real kicker, though? We don't even get a new episode next week! Bah.

While the Michael Hirschorn era at Vh1 will likely be best remembered for bringing pop culture talking heads (I Love The..., Best Week Ever), washed-up celebs (Surreal Life) and horny musicians (Flavor Of Love, Rock Of Love) into millions of homes, there is one program from his tenure that was just as critically acclaimed as it was popular. Back in the summer of 2006, a four-part documentary called The Drug Years aired to rave reviews — Variety called it a "fascinating insight into the growth of the counterculture and ... its eventual hangover" — and arguably became the first series in the channel's history that was equally appealing to pop culture enthusiasts and intellectuals. Now, after nearly two years worth of research and production, the same creative team that put The Drug Years together has returned with a brand new four-part doc entitled Sex: The Revolution. Defamer recently sat down with series writer Martin Torgoff and executive producer Brad Abramson to talk about the series that, as Torgoff explains, puts its focus on "how the sexual revolution fed into the dynamic of what became the Culture Wars in the United States."

Class resentment and anonymous speech on the internet make a toxic combination. (According to Fucked Company, I once paid for lazik eye surgery for a young MBA on staff whom I actually despised.) But occasionally the office legends are accurate-which is lucky because there were some particularly lurid stories about axed Star supremo Bonnie Fuller. Before the stake was put through her heart, the celebrity mag editor was so demanding and abusive to her underlings that she warranted her very own rumor message board, 'I Survived Bonnie'. The demand for first-class tickets from the Make-A-Wish charity? The bullied assistants who exacted revenge by rubbing snot in her souffle and crotch juice on the bread? All true, according to 2004's bitchy profile by Judith Newman of Vanity Fair. After the jump, read about the editor who made all her counterparts look like saints.

It's difficult enough to note the end of another seemingly rock-solid Hollywood relationship when the two parties are willing to at least admit that yes, they were involved. But how does one go about relaying the sad news that a love is no more, when the love was never outwardly acknowledged in the first place? What's that you say? By ceasing to be such a busybody and allowing them to lead their private lives in private? But we simply cannot do that! This is Jodie Foster we're talking about—and her beautiful Cydney!

For our post "How a girly girl made serious bank on her startup," Patricia Handschiegel — who did just that with her own startup, StyleDiary — told us that sometimes one has to let the girl's-girl image go. More often, though, a girl just has to make the most of the time she has. Handschiegel posted 573 words on "ways to cheat the system for when I'm too busy to get a manicure or to the spa." Here's a version of you can read on your BlackBerry Pearl:

Amid general rejoicing in the humiliation of boss-from-hell Bonnie Fuller, have some sympathy for the departing American Media editorial director. Fuller not only failed to turn American Media's supermarket tabloid Star into a real competitor to the glossier Us Weekly; she recently lost her mother. But the driven Canadian-born super-editor-who boasted of her ability to juggle career and family in a recent advice book-may have used her mother's death to manage the news of her departure. New York Post terrier-like media reporter Keith Kelly was sniffing around last week. Bonnie Fuller's shameless response?

Bonnie Fuller, the Canadian mother-of-four who defined both the celebrity weekly and the celebrity magazine editor, is to leave her job. As the demanding editor of Us Weekly, Fuller was the most sought-after executive in the magazine industry; but she traded in her reputation for a richer deal at David Pecker's American Media. Fuller did improve group flagship Star, but it wasn't enough to dislodge Us Weekly, which continued to thrive under Fuller's successor, Janice Min. It became apparent that the peppy formula was stronger than the personal magic which Fuller had sold to American Media's Pecker. Marginalized at her new employer, Fuller spent her last couple of years in increasingly bizarre efforts to promote Star and her own flagging brand, appearing on game shows such as Identity (see screencap) and damning in blog posts the trashy celebrity culture that she had done so much to promote. It was a brutal fall from grace; and now Fuller cannot even claim to be seeking a quieter life. Her book, The Joys of Much Too Much, extolled the virtues of a hectic but full career and home life, over the simplicity and tranquility from which she will now suffer. (After the jump, American Media's press release.)

The popular celebrities of the day influence baby names, because we worship them! As you can see from this graphicle, the popularity of "Britney" as a baby name (gleaned from the Social Security database, which is searchable), has plummeted. What mom in their right mind would want to mark their child from birth with a reminder of a mentally unstable child star turned Lolita Pepsi-selling shill turned Blanche DuBois? "Britney" was at #200 in baby names in 1993, and its decline in popularity mirrors the pop star's own, beginning its descent to #600 around 2001. Yep, sounds about right.

Sure, we all endured the Rose Ceremony hoops, but was there really any doubt in our minds who Matt Grant—the most British Bachelor ever!—would choose at the end of his lady-shopping journey? The second he laid eyes on Lamas Family acting dynasty heiress Shayne Lamas, our funny-sounding Casanova was a goner. Sad as that was for first runner-up Chelsea, who was commended for her loveliness and offered her choice of Whirlpool appliances in exchange for her time, it resulted in a jackpot romantic payday for Shayne.

Hello! It's not fair that girls are the only ones photographically exploited on this website on a daily basis. Luckily, there's a whole herd of guys, from Junk Mag's photographer Brad Walsh, lined up and ready to take their clothes off. Stripsters? Whatever you want to call them! So we're going to vote on the cutest! Here's how voting works: photos are technically SFW. Also: it doesn't matter if they're your type or not. Just pick one. Pretend they're the last men on earth, if skinny tattooed dudes aren't your type. Pretend it's 3 a.m. and you're at Duff's.

Exploring, perhaps, her inner Bill O'Reilly, WNBC news anchor Sue Simmons turned what should have been a straightforward promo for the evening news into an angry cuss-out of one of her co-workers. And Simmons' cursing made it onto the air, unlike Fox News anchor O'Reilly's recently-publicized meltdown. We've received several emails from viewers who caught the cursing during a break in the season finale for NBC drama Medium, and now there's video, posted after the jump. UPDATE: And Simmons has now apologized for scandalizing the entire city of New York with the f-word. UPDATE2: Since these things come in threes I'm now waiting for Anderson Cooper to have a meltdown involving lack of skin moisturizer or something.

You know what sounds good right about now? No, besides a few glasses of Glenmorangie. Yep, that's right, a mouthwatering Dirt Sandwich. Defamer's resident Sandwich Artist, Molly McAleer, spent all week combing through oodles and oodles of high-caliber celebrity infotainment programming in search of the tastiest ingredients this side of a fresh crop of salvia. This week's installment features Prince William's rapidly eroding hairline, TMZ's (imagined) kidnapping of Paris Hilton, David Foster's truly brutal verbal pummeling of Idol reject Jason Castro and, of course, Lindsay Lohan's minknapping incident (which, naturally, Dina Lohan chalks up as part of the vast media conspiracy against her eldest daughter). Enjoy!

When Jack Kliger took over Elle and Hachette's other US titles in 1999, he established himself as one of the magazine industry's few multimedia visionaries. The former Conde Nast publisher pushed Hachette's content onto EchoStar's interactive TV platform; Hachette's Car and Driver teamed up with the USA Network to produce a reality show spin-off of Cannonball Run, the cross-country car-race movie. And, when Hachette closed Elle Girl and Premiere magazines but kept their websites going, Kliger the charmer spun the cost-cutting exercise as an embrace of online media. So how's that going? Try utter disaster. We've been getting reports all day that the group has laid off almost its entire online staff. And here's one good reason: even Hachette's most successful online properties have the reach of a mid-sized blog, according to previously undisclosed web stats. (Oh, yes, and Hachette's Elle is about to lose its cherished role on Project Runway, the fashion-industry reality show.) If the future of magazines is some multimedia magic, as Kliger has been saying for a decade, Hachette has not much of a future; nor the Hachette boss himself.

We've become just about as well-versed as we want to when it comes to the bizarre practices of Scientologists, which run the gamut from silent birth to e-meters. But after hearing that Katie Holmes' precious little Suri is still on the baby bottle even after turning 2 years old, and that fellow Scientologist mommy Leah Remini's "sweet witty pain in the ass" 3-year old Sophia still drinks six bottles a night, we discovered some disturbing tales from other members of the cult religion who used "Hubbard's baby formula," only to wind up with "thin and colicky" toddlers that had their "baby teeth destroyed" and "screamed themselves to death." But as the defiant Remini says in this clip, "I could see her drinkig a bottle 'til she's 16." More details on Hubbard's toxic formula that was developed using methods from Ancient Rome (!!!) after the jump.

Everybody listen: Scarlett Johansson is saying stuff. About men. Heroic men! Iconic men! Men she would like to honor! The blonde actress, who insists on putting out an unwanted record, reveals the five guys she considers her "dads": Woody Allen, Bill Murray, Tom Waits, Barack Obama, and Bob Dylan. Suck it, actual dad! While a waggish type might be tempted to point out that none of these "dads" saved her from looking like an alien albino on the cover of Paste, a wiser person would examine her dad choices and ponder the question: Aren't these just a bunch of random old guys that probably don't even know her that well?

Night sweats? Crippling depression? Physical incapacitation? Yes, you're probably experiencing Celebrity Rehab withdrawal systems. To help ween you off the sweet high of a season spent freebasing Dr. Drew and his ragtag gang of Pasadena Recovery Center misfits, Defamer videographer Molly McAleer brings you outtakes from today's Very Special Tyra™, an episode devoted entirely to the behaviors and mating habits of the drunkus slutticus, more commonly known as the urban party girl. What the girls didn't see coming—not even the one who casually relates the time she totally forgot about the hookup-dampering tampon she was harboring—was that Dr. Drew himself was on hand for a Dr. Drew® Intervention™. With him, his lovely assistant Mary Carey, who saw in these troubled, ladies-of-the-ladies'-night a version of her own, formerly hammered self. Whether they chose to heed her warnings, fearful of a fate in which they too find themselves regaining consciousness on an unfamiliar bathroom floor (a scenario rendered all the more disconcerting once you crawl out of the stall and notice the row of urinals lining the wall) is really up to them. [Tyra]

Hannah Montana, the kids' show starring exploited teenager (or, alternately, picture-posing strumpet) Miley Cyrus, ran its first new episode in two months last Sunday. And the ratings were down 24%! Could this be the end for our hero—done in by Annie Leibovitz, Vanity Fair, and a child-unfriendly wave of bad publicity?

Peter Olson-widely reported to be stepping down from Random House after a debilitating bout of pneumonia-doesn't get much sympathy in the publishing industry. Here's how the publishing giant's chief executive will be remembered: as a money-minded philistine who's fallen victim to the same financial accountability he tried to instill at Bertelsmann's US book producing factory. But there is one endearing angle to Olson's comeuppance: his departure may have been dictated less by Bertelsmann's Teutonic board members than Olson's formidable wife, Candice.

Last night brought us the always anticipated The Bachelor reunion show, and while it didn't come close to reaching the dramatic heights of last season's stunning confrontation between hunky-faced Brad Womack and the shunted women he so callously tossed aside like used bedside facial tissue, it did feature some satisfying moments. Absent from the proceedings was finalist Shayne Lamas, scion of the Lamas Family Acting Dynasty, who, despite what her father might tell you, is truly, madly, deeply in love with What's-His-Face from London Town.