Having completed the final stages of his home-based, outpatient recovery program ("Step 11: Turn off Oprah. Step 12: Congratulations! You are now a sober and tolerant asset to society..."), Mel Gibson has at last emerged from the cocoon-like confines of his Malibu estate and gotten back to business, with two recent appearances in the American heartland in support of his latest extinct language opus, Apocalypto:

• Lindsay Lohan pays her fifth visit to the ER this year, having fractured her wrist in two places after slipping and falling in her Chanel boots. So much for being Karl Lagerfeld's BFF. [Us Weekly]
• Mel Gibson emerges to walk his only daughter down the aisle. If she'd married a Jew, however, he'd just have stayed home. [TMZ]
• Alec Baldwin tells GQ that ex-wife Kim Basinger's unkind words about him were so awful, he wanted to die. Calling the guy Saddam Hussein really cuts to the quick. [Page Six]
• A second autopsy is still inconclusive about the cause of death for Anna Nicole Smith's late son, Daniel. He was taking anti-depressants (wouldn't you?), though there's nothing to indicate a suicidal overdose. [R&M (bottom)]
• Bruce Willis will say just about anything so that you don't call him a Republican. [Lowdown]
• Mary-Kate Olsen protects her mystery dirtbag boyfriend from the Richards sisters' vaginas by aggressively sucking face at Bungalow. [Page Six]

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are now posted several times a week—so start sending them in more often! Send yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you spotted Jessica Simpson swooping back into town after a reinvigorating bass-fishing expedition.

• Laguna Beach alum Kristin Cavalleri continues to justify her relevance through the strategic use of her vagina, which has been programmed to hone in on any male remotely connected to any female celebrity. [Page Six]
• Paris Hilton may be in some trouble for her drunk driving arrest, but it's nothing her mafioso relatives can't take care of. [R&M]
• Speaking of the DUI Club, Mel Gibson emerges from hiding, unhappy to be faced with Jew paparazzi. [TMZ]
• Just now on The View, Babs admitted to having Botox — which is about the worst endorsement the treatment could have.
• Lionel Richie asks a doctor if his emaciated daughter Nicole is anorexic. Seriously? You had to ask a professional to get the answer? [Scoop]
• Warren Buffet disavows his granddaughter after she publicly admitted to being super fucking rich. [Page Six]
• Tom Brokaw joins Team Couric, albeit briefly. [Lowdown (last item)]
• Marcia Cross is pregnant, and nobody cares. Poor fetus. [IMDb]

Amid all this Redstone-Cruise hullabaloo, it's almost too easy to forget the sweet, sugar-titted pleasures of the last "my, how far the world's biggest movie stars have fallen" sensation to sweep through Hollywood: Mel Gibson's Swervy Joy Ride Through Hebey-Hatesville. Well, not everyone has such a limited attention span: A savvy, web-enabled entrepreneur has managed to score an actual cocktail napkin from Moonshadows, the very Malibu bar where Gibson set the stage for his infamous arrest, and put the specimen up for sale on eBay. Yes, they were napkins exactly like this one that absorbed the sweat off every one of Gibson's libations that ill-fated night, lying just inches away from him as he draped his hairy forearms around the nearest set of giggly blondes and smiled feebly for a nearby camera. The serious collector might well be willing to entertain this flawless reproduction's But It Now price of $5,000.

· Come on, you already know the words, so say it with us: "I've had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking cake!"
Paris Hilton and the Wiggles turned out for People Who Amuse Those With The IQ Of A Five-Year-Old Day on the Today Show, inspiring the WOW Report to mash-up both appearances into a single segment.
"Kev-IN! How many times I gotta tell you that after I drop the baby, you can't wash off his head wound in the shark tank?!"
JonBenet Ramsey killer John Mark Karr has a MySpace page. Now why would a guy who likes to prey on children possibly want to hang around on MySpace?
· Finally, a Mel Gibson t-shirt with a pleasing design.
· Sweaty, potty-mouthed oil heir Brandon Davis is still dining out on the "firecrotch" thing. It's probably time for him to move on to slandering pubic hair of a different color and prove he's not just a one-hit wonder.

Easily the most important part of any celebrity meltdown involving a messy police altercation is the swift, sweet sting of a judge's fingers on the back of the naughty scofflaw's outstreched wrists. Lead-footed Malibu anti-Semite Mel Gibson finally received his token punishment today after entering a no-contest plea to a misdemeanor drunk-driving charge through his lawyer (naturally, Gibson wasn't present, as there was no way his legal team would allow a dramatic courtroom photo-op or take the chance that their client refer to Lady Justice as Sugar Tit), which included three years of probation, a fine roughly half the star's typical Moonshadows tab, and some obligatory lip service about drying out:

The National Enquirer has slapped a Breaking News banner over its discovery that Mel Gibson is not, as previously believed, battling his demons in the comfort of a luxury resort-hab facility like Promises Malibu (where as the owner of the beachside community, he would be entitled to a 15 percent discount), but is instead participating in an outpatient, "ongoing program of recovery," presumably based out of his own living room. We're not entirely sure anyone from his camp definitively claimed that Gibson had checked into an inpatient facility (if we're wrong about this, please correct us), we just assumed that if he wanted to seem serious about pretending to manage his problem, he'd do so hiding out a place where he could sip virgin mai-tais during a daily poolside massage while waiting for Ari Emanuel to tire of throwing rocks at his house. Then again, if that same level of treatment is available at home, why would he want to bother enduring an awkward couple of weeks haggling over shuffleboard scores with a cranky, jonesing cokehead just to keep up appearances?

• Boy George's street sweeping causes a paparazzi car crash. Live the Lohan dream, buddy. [OAN]
• The MySpace profiles belonging to Bonnie Fuller, Anna Wintour, and Graydon Carter are fake. Duh, the only profile genuinely belonging to a media bigwig is Atoosa Rubenstein's. The 'Toos loves the 'Space. [AdAge]
• Spin increases its page size to 10x12, making that much more room for Fall Out Boy coverage. [Crain's]
• "Charm School" is a $1600 program that helps men who have trouble talking to ladies. It's kind of like the Pick-Up Artists in The Game, but for wusses. [Reuters]
• The art of gay cruising is not easily mastered. [Manhattan Offender]
• Speaking of Gays, Chelsea really is a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. It's just a pity politicians have to act like that's a bad thing. [Animal]
• It's somewhat inevitable that any conversation on bad subway etiquette will devolve into an anti-Chinese immigrant rant. [Gothamist (see comments)]
• A national women's magazine searches for a man to go on a blind date with a 29-year-old virgin. Who knew Jane was so cruel? [Craigslist]
• If publicist Stephen Huvane were representing a corporation rather than Jennifer Aniston, he'd be shot dead in the street. Actually, that could still happen. [Media Orchard]
• Of course the Post doesn't care about black people; the only exception is if the black person is a pimp and/or bouncer who murders a young white woman. [Blog NYC]
• The Stations of the Mel: Mel is condemned by the press. "Arrest me not," he telleth the centurion, "for I owneth Malibu. And thou lookest a bit Jewish unto me." [NYer]

We've spent the past week digesting this William Powers article in the National Journal regarding how big, austere daily papers justify covering celebrity "news." Powers's point is that even though celebrity crap is one of the most sought-after news products, big papers keep it at arm's length for decorum's sake. They also don't have the resources, personnel, or professional desire to assiduously track an eternally moving, churning target like celebrity news. However, when a celeb story gets so huge that virtually everyone is talking about it, ignoring such a topic begins to look willful, elitist, or even ignorant. So assuming one can at least stay above the fray of breaking celebrity news and scoops, how do you appear engaged with popular culture while not actually deigning to cover it? That's easy. You just cover the coverage.

· Miracles often manifest themselves in highly ironic fashion, so don't be immediately suspicious about the authenticity of the bagel with Mel Gibson's face on it up for sale on eBay.
If you're one of the privileged half-dozen or so subscribers to Defamer Text Messages and wonder why your recent news alerts no longer feature the words "rubyredbag," "whiteswallow," or "manloaf," see Valleywag's post about the 83 Words You Can't Say On Verizon Wireless.
The Blind Item Guessing Game, Mini Edition: DJ AM and Nicole Richie, according to some self-starting readers.
· This headline was so good we had no ability nor desire to read the actual story: "Patrick Swayze sweeps in sprinkling armfuls of magic dust."
· Ever wonder what makes that distinctive balls-slapping-against-ass sound so common in porno movies? Besides actual balls slapping against an ass?

Because it's Friday, we're too hung over to work very hard, and it sounds like it might be fun to create an endless blog-feedback loop of hastily thrown together Photoshop parodies of Gwyneth Paltrow's infinitely mockable "I Am African" ads, we're sharing two of the submissions readers made to the informal contest east-coasted sister site Gawker kicked off based on our Mel Gibson-themed "I Am Israeli" offering from late yesterday. But in the interest of adding something new to the conversation, we point out today's Smoking Gun story that may help explain Patrick Swayze's motives (besides the usual, boring, self-promotional ones) for defending Gibson recently, in which Swayze crashes a Cessna, asks witnesses to ignore the Old Milwaukee fumes rising from his body while helping him ditch his onboard stash of booze, and which offers the dubious "pressurization problem" excuse as a novel aeronautical alternative to the more common "dehydration" gambit we've all come to know and love. Poor Swayze. It really does look like he's hasn't eaten since they packed up the craft services table on Black Dog.

The mocking flows fast & furious regarding Gwyneth Paltrow's "I Am African" ad. We naively wondered how long it would take for the parodies to start flooding in after the inevitable Mel Gibson treatment, and we received a fair flood of same. Most were crap, but the above strikes just the right tone of righteous indignation. After the jump, a couple more reader contributions that are even more disposable, but then we never can leave well enough alone.

This morning, as nearly all mornings have over the past two weeks, begins with a Mel Gibson item. But this is not yet another retelling of the story of the temporary, tequila-and-hate-drenched fall of one of Hollywood's biggest stars; rather, this is the tale of the Gibson Affair's redefining of the American Dream itself. Whereas once this Dream was comprised of a vague desire to work hard and live better than the generation of suckers who came before, it now looks something like this:

Cry havoc, and loose the dogs of Photoshop. Sure, we thought we'd leave Mel alone today after a brief Swayzing, but a reader sent this delightful Gwyneth-inspired illustration to our westie cousin Defamer. And it seems only right to share here, though we note that Mel is missing some kind of Israeli neckwear to complete the picture. More permutations on this theme may also be submitted for further consideration.

Admittedly, we are a little behind on this one, but as the BBC reported this week:

· Inspired by today's Gwyneth Paltrow ad, a reader whipped up this delightful reinterpretation for Mel Gibson. We think he's well on his way to total forgiveness.
If you don't want your t-shirt to mess around with all these "sugar tits" niceties and just cut to the chase, this fine "schmuck"-based garment seems like a good option.
Big day for Lindsay Lohan! Page Six says the Chateau is threatening her with homelessness, while TMZ claims she's finally attracted her first stalker. We've said it before, but we're always shocked that they grow up so fast.
Survivor's Fat, Naked, Tax-Evading Guy says he will not rest until he catches the one-armed prosecutor who threw him in jail.
· For the low, low price of $8,000 per hour, you too can fly in the private jet where Jim Carrey porks Jenny McCarthy.

The angry protestors eager to spread the message of the Mel Gibson Resistance across a variety of outdoor advertising media has once again been foiled by the shadowy, pro-Gibson cabal bent on maintaining congenial relations with studios eager to eventually work with the highly bankable, yet troubled, producer/star. Reports The Scoop, following up its earlier story on the proposed anti-Gibson billboard designed to loom over Sunset Blvd:

A glut of Mel Gibson stories has forced our retreat into the protective shell of the round-up format:
· Pictured: An actual ad in rotation at MySpace. Forgiveness is just a free laptop scam away! [MySpace]
· The Philly City Paper's The Clog blog shares some fond memories of Mel Gibson's downtime while in town shooting Signs, where he liked to get liquored up and perform A-list shoulder rubs (nickname: "The Cruncher") at local bars, went to AA meetings to repent for the aforementioned inebriated, amateur chiropractic behavior, and may have had relations with a lady who claims she has "nude Polaroids of Mel holding his happy rooster in one paw and a phone in his other." [The Clog]
· Is Disney quietly trying to shop Apocalypto to a studio that might be a little more experienced in handling radioactive material? Roger Friedman thinks so, but he also thinks that Lindsay Lohan is reformed. [Fox 411]
· The National Enquirer is preparing a story that brings to light the shocking, world-shattering revelation that Mel likes to party. [The Scoop]
· And you knew this was coming, but: Officer Sugar Tits, the hastily designed Cafe Press t-shirt. [Cafe Press]