Because you all are clearly incapable of forming your own opinions and thus are unfailingly interested in mine.

Sarah Silverman may well be the funniest person on planet Earth. As soon as one of you finds a clip of one of her VMA bits on YouTube, send me the link please.

If we could never, ever have Amy Lee and Jared Leto standing next to one another again, I’d be fine with that. Really. In high school I could handle looking at three, maybe even four goth kids at the same time. In my twenties, two is really more than I can stomach.

I may like some of her music, but every time I hear her speak, I like P!nk less.

It’s funny cuz Lil’ Kim is fat now. And crazy, crazy, crazy.

You know what is not classy, All American Rejects? Stumbling up to accept your award with a glass of scotch in your hands. Passing it around stage as you slur. Amusing, yes. Classy, nuh-uh.

Jessica Simpson is packing on the pounds. Where is Ken Paves when she needs him? Is her favoritism toward him angering her other stylists? I swear they are putting her in these short dresses and then running off somewhere to watch and giggle.

Ringtone of the Year award? Like, your song is so simplistic that it carries particularly well via mobile phone? You get an award for that now?

It’s cool that Panic! At the Disco (good band name. oh wait.) got the whole audience to scream “whore!” It’s a shame that Paris Hilton wasn’t on stage at the time. The rest of the performance was great visually, but the lead singer was so nervous I don’t think he hit a single note right. Too bad cuz it’s a great song.

It’s nice to see Petra Nemcova so happy with James Blunt now. You know, after the whole almost-dying-in-that-one-tsunami-that-claimed-the-life-of-her-boyfriend-and-hundreds-of-thousands-of-others thing.

I’m pretty sure Britney and KFed got booed. And rightly so. That was the dumbest bit tonight. And that’s saying something.

I LOVE YOU XTINA!

Oh, that “marry me marry me” song is by Jared Leto’s band. Hm. I like that song. How odd. If he becomes some big famous rock star now, I just don’t know how I’ll reconcile that. I mean, My So-Called Life was cancelled. Everyone else in that cast got the memo.

For reals, Sarah Silverman, I would very much like to go out with you. Jimmy Kimmel’s star is falling, sweetie. Mine is just beginning to rise. Get on board with a winner. Pick me. Choose me. Love me.

When you, as a blogger, start quoting Meredith Grey because you can’t think of anything funnier, it’s time to go to bed.

I’ve written several intros to this video and I keep erasing them. It’s easy to poke fun at Paula Abdul’s substance abuse problem. It’s so painfully obvious on AmIdol that I find myself exclaiming “Wow, I think she’s sober tonight” in the rare instance that she appears to be.

You’d think she’d have people around her to do something about this. I mean, even if they can’t keep her from guzzling liquor and vicodin, at least they could keep her off of live television for the night. But the folks at E! caught her on Emmy night, and asked her questions she proceeded to answer using her best impression of an overtired 5-year-old. I’m kind of sad for her, actually. I’ve decided the only reason she can get through tapings of AmIdol is that they film it in the afternoon — clearly, by nightfall, she’s totally incoherent.

The sound and picture quality get better about 15 seconds in.

• Ashton Kutcher is developing a candid-camera-style reality series for NBC based on the film The Wedding Crashers.
• Matt Stone has it on good authority that Saddam Hussein is being forced to watch South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut in prison. Hussein banned the movie in his own country in 1999 because it depicts him as the gay lover of Satan. Fussy, fussy.
• Maybe you should just stay at home and drink alone, Tara.

A wasted Kelly Clarkson gets pulled up on stage at some metal show (is this Yellowcard? Does anyone care?). It’s a 10-minute clip and it’s worth every. Single. Minute.

I voted for this girl like 100 times a night, and I’m not ashamed to admit that today.

[Sorry I Got Drunk]

• After his little traffic mishap on July 20, the LA County District attorney will charge Haley Joel Osment with a DUI. I’m sure the young Mr. Osment knows how to get through this; after all, he spent most of last month being charged by the media with driving a 1995 Saturn.
• Outted Jew-hater Mel Gibson has been sentenced for his DUI arrest earlier this month. He got 3 years probation and 5 AA meetings a week for the next 4 1/2 months, with 3 meetings a week for the rest of the year after that. He also must pay fines totalling $1300, which is about .00043% of what Passion of the Christ netted him personally. The Life Ring blog notes that the U.S. media tend to tiptoe around AA and other 12-step programs, but Britain’s Telegraph tells it like it is: Mel Gibson is even a nutcase about AA, demanding spur-of-the-moment Big Book discussions immediately before a take on the set of Braveheart. So — who’s down to stalk some Melibu AA meetings? I’ll drive!
• That Owen Wilson knows a good publicity train when he sees one. He hopped on board and he’s grabbing a coal shovel, threatening to sue anyone who suggests he might have a role in the demise of the Kate Hudson/Strange Bearded Man alliance.
• Brangelina are moving to Los Feliz, ostensibly because no one in Los Angeles can agree on how to pronounce it, let alone remember where it is.

…and TMZ has it on tape. Actually, the Jackass star invited the paparazzi up to his apartment, where he was getting stinking drunk with his grossly anorexic and probably-not-gonna-make-it-as-an-actress-if-her-utter-inability-to-be-natural-on-camera-is-any-indication girlfriend. He then tells the camera man that he and Nicole Richie’s relationship was entirely a PR stunt, blasts Brandon Davis for being an overall fuckwit (props for that), calls Paris Hilton a “self-made millionaire,” and makes the (actually pretty dead-on) point that Lindsay Lohan and Eminem have similarly inspiring rags-to-riches stories. He mentions repeatedly that all he’s ever wanted in life is to be hounded by the paparazzi. Somewhere in there he appeals to Nicole to call him, as he’s lost her number and email address and would like to be friends again. His disturbingly anorexic girlfriend gropes him the whole time. “Whatever comes out of my mouth,” he tells the photogs, “run it.”

It’s like watching a trainwreck. A beautiful, glorious, drunken trainwreck.

It’s a slow news day. The things you might care about, before the week ends:

• Lou Diamond Phillips arrested for some good old-fashioned wife-beating. People epithets him as “Law & Order: SVU actor.” It’s as if Stand and Deliver never even happened…so sad…
• Fuck. Yes. Screech — who the mainstream media begrudgingly continues to refer to as “Dustin Diamond” — says he fought with a woman who entered his Omaha hotel room to steal video games while he was touring with a — wait for it, just wait — adults-only comedy show. The woman denies the charges. The news here, of course, is that we are somehow still writing pieces about Dustin Diamond.
• La Lohan finally has a stalker. According to several different reports, the stalker has done the following things: sent Lindsay flowers at her place of occasional work, and sent letters asking to meet her, providing his full name and phone number. This is fucking creepy, you guys.
• Patrick Swayze tragically reminds us he exists, valiantly comes to the rescue of his good buddy Mel Gibson by forcing us all to note that if there’s anything more retarded than driving a car drunk, it is, undoubtedly, flying a Cessna drunk.
• Lark Voorhees got a parking ticket today.
• I mean, she didn’t, of course, but it would totally not be news if she did. So why are we still writing pieces about Dustin Diamond?

In the quiet, lapping wake of the notable non-success of RV, Robin Williams has “found himself drinking again,” after 20 years of sobriety, but is taking “proactive measures to deal with this for his own well-being and the well-being of his family,” his publicist said today.

I’m going to go easy on this, because, following Mel Gibson’s Jewgate, simply “finding oneself drinking again” seems like something minor overlooked, as in “I found myself substituting basil alone again, when the recipe clearly called for a full Italian spice mix.” This is much more respectable behavior than “I found myself zig-zagging down PCH at two in the morning, verbally annihilating the race group of people responsible for my employment, and calling someone ’sugar tits’ in earnest.”

Plus, Death to Smoochie was really, really funny.

I admire his choice to admit to his relapse, I congratulate him on successfully working a program for 20 solid years — as opposed to a certain raging Jew-hater who apparently spent most of 2001 hopping back and forth between bars and AA meetings — and I wish him the best of luck in his courageous journey back to health.