No Lasting Matter

Robin Williams is awfully comfortable with his split status, why's that, babycakes? And this American Idol benevolence has got to go. We want snark, stars and serious tension. Please, none of this feel-good Paula nonsense. And who's Jen Aniston pretending to date this time?

Some folks stay indoors for weeks following a bad breakup, sniffling under the covers with a stash of Häagan-Dazs in one hand and a pile of Kleenex in the other. Then there’s Robin Williams, who’s been spotted out on the scene more than ever following that separation from his not-for-much-longer wife-unit, Marsha. Robby W. did some stand-up at Hell-Ay’s Upright Citizens Brigade theater the very same weekend the missus filed for divorce—kind of a funny (as in “hmmm,” not “ha-ha”) way to mourn a 19-year marriage, huh? Desk Bustup, comprised of insiders more than familiar with Robin and Marsha’s split, tells us Mr. W had checked out on his second wife “a long time ago,” so no surprise he’s been laffin’ his big butt off recently. We say what’s amusing is how eye-wandering history always repeats itself.

‘Course, a room full of stoned hipsters sipping out of brown paper bags ain’t exactly the kinda friends ya need to lean on in tragic times, regardless how or when those events came about. Then again, who’s sad? R.W. is makin’ the rounds and appearing on Idol Gives Back. Plus, the funnyguy performed his own material during a midnight show at the Improv in T-town, and was happy to pose with fans for photos following his set. And let’s not forget that bleeding heart he wore, not on his sleeve, but on his whole damn shirt! Are all these way-too-public appearances your way of moving on, Rob-hon? Or are you just not all that depressed about your married life’s demise?

So Idol “gives back” this Wednesday. And we have an admission as big as Randy’s “check it out” collection: We hate Idol Gives Back. I know this makes us horrible human beings, but we simply do not watch American Idol to be reminded of all the horror in the world. We tune in because it’s a distraction from all the crap in the world...soldiers and gay kids alike getting shot included. (Though to be fair, Simon is getting awfully close there with the lethal arsenal, no question.)

Yeah, Idol’s the biggest show on the planet (besides Madonna's marital excuses), but we just don’t care. We want to be wowed by good singers and disgusted—and entertained—by bad ones. Don’t want any causes thrown in our pusses by celebrities who are only on TV to promote their upcoming albums or tours. Don’t make us feel guilty now when we throw things (remotes, pets, partners, whatever’s available) at Kristy Lee Cook. That’s a guilty delight we don’t want to be deprived of, Idol powers!

There was a whole lot of male bonding going on last week at the premiere of Street Kings, a new dank-'n'-dreary flick that ain’t exactly first-date material (unless your sweetie’s into South Central street violence). The pic’s man-boys, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans, joked around on the crimson carpet like old, soiled playground pals. Betcha Kean misses his Bill & Ted partner in crime, Alex Winter. Hey, what in the ef happened to that Wyld Stallion, anyway? Did he fall down the same hole as Anthony Michael Hall and most every other '80s teen star never heard from again? Though that's the same hole the New Kids on the Block climbed out of recently, against all dork odds.

One person in particular was def enjoying the dude-on-dude action. Kristin Cavallari showed up her blond butt to the event for—what else?—“The men! The dirty, violent movies are fun now and then. And the eye candy doesn’t hurt.” Hey, at least you’re honest, hon. But K.C., decked in a bright red look-at-me number, kept hush-hush on an upcoming flick she’s about to shoot in Canada-land. When did the Laguna lady get all antsy about drawing attention to herself? She only exists in the same space as celebrities because she blasted her life all over the airwaves, and now she’s put the kibosh on self-promotion? Beats us.

Dear Ted:
Why do you continue to treat George Clooney like a god? His comment about Charleton Heston's disease was so sad and immature it's unbelievable! Clooney is an aging, attention-loving, too-short has-been actor! Let's focus on someone younger and hotter. Next...
  Patricia
  Buffalo, N.Y.

Dear Ageist Atheist:
Before Heston passed on, Clooney did make a joke about the NRA head's Alzheimer's condition. I say all's fair in love and war (which is what the right to easily buy guns and off whomever you like is). Good for George.

Jennifer Aniston’s taste buds have moved on (even though her allegedly broken heart hasn’t, according to every goss schmuck on the planet) from Genuine Food and Drink while on location in Miami, to another just-as-classy establishment. Jenny was sizzlingly svelte at La Marea at the Tides Hotel in SoBe, perhaps interested in the eatery since the chef there used to whip up the delicacies at her and bestie Courteney Cox-Arquette’s fave Hell-Ay place, Il Sole. J.A. took Marley & Me interest Owen Wilson and O.W.’s bosom-and-more buddy Woody Harrelson out for some delish dinner at the restaurant. Looks like Woody’s now on the list of possible baby dads for Jen-An’s yet-to-be-conceived child. She gets within walking distance of a man and the rumors start swelling faster than an expecting pooch, a few of which musta been near...

Dave Annable from Brothers and Sisters, panting on a Friday with his darlin' doggie at the Brentwood dog park. Dave-babe’s bulldog was all sorts of adorable, even more so than its master. The doable doll donned a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers while awaiting a pooch-park pal, a lovely babe with two tiny, tan maltipoos, so precious. D.A. was all hugs, kisses and smiles when he greeted the mystery gal—clearly his canine approved—and the twosome took off for a walk. Elsewhere in the B-town nabe...

Randy Spelling was strolling with some buds through the Brentwood street fair on San Vicente. R.S.’s face was scruffed with peach fuzz more akin to a kid smack-dab in the middle of puberty—guess there’s still some stuff money can’t buy, like a manly mug of facial hair. Spell-hon sported jeans and a light blue hoodie jacket adorned with the phrase “I Love Rock” on the back. Those Spellings sure know how to keep it nice and subtle. Tori and Candy were nowhere in sight, ending once and for all the oft-wondered theory: If your more famous relatives aren’t around, do you cease to exist?