Perhaps the only thing creepier than our America's recent obsession with the jailbait movies dominating the recent entertainment landscape is some guy applying practical mathematics to the quantitative comparison of said jailbait stars' talent levels. Blog The Snoozeletter crunches the numbers:

Yesterday, protesters from minority advocacy groups held a press conference at L.A. City Hall to criticize Nielsen Media Research's upcoming People Meter, which the groups fear will undercount minority television viewership, particulary in urban areas. Nielsen has already launched what Broadcasting & Cable calls a "public-relations counteroffensive," sending out 500 DVDs entitled "Everyone Counts," which assures people that their methodology strives to ensure that "all television audiences are fairly and accurately represented in our samples."

The retirement community halls haven't seen this much electricity since Double Tapioca Night. The Op-Ed pages of Quietly Waiting to Die Daily are abuzz with anticipation. CBS airs The Dick Van Dyke Show Revisited tonight, catering as usual to the entertainment-underserved Greatest Generation. The return of Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore should easily carry the coveted 59- to-ashes-in-an-urn demographic, crushing such token, counterprogrammed sops to the body-piercing set such as ABC's According to Jim and PBS' Alan Alda in Scientific American Frontiers. Thanks, CBS! Our grandparents will have an hour where they're not nattering on about World War II.

The Smoking Gun has Diane Lane's contract rider, which details her demands for appearing in a movie.

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Variety television editor/Franklin Avenue blogger Michael Schneider has a rundown of the orphan heat that Hollywood's currently warming its derivative hands over, with at least four sudden-orphan-custody projects on the horizon:

This is what happens when you leave Quentin Tarantino alone for even a minute—if he's not running off to Japan to film a two-part epic splatterfest, he's insinuating himself into a music video to give those silent-acting chops a whirl. Drew's Blog-o-rama points us to Tarantino's starring turn in a Leonard Cohen video. Warning to those of you with heart problems, mild food allergies, or eyes: Beware a shirtless Tarantino engaging in a love scene near the end of the video. One day, they'll probably use the footage of his pigeon chest to slow population growth in China.

Variety reports that Josh Schwartz, The O.C's. boy mastermind, is close to a deal with Fox to develop a "companion" series to the hit drama. It won't be a spin-off, but will "mirror The O.C.'s mix of younger and older characters, but with the overall skein skewing slightly older than The O.C." But it looks like we're going to have to wait until January for the tough kid from Cerritos to stir up shit in Laguna Effing Beach.

Did Mean Girls star/jailbait box office champ Lindsay Lohan reinvest some of her Freaky Friday cash into her Torso Fund? Awful Plastic Surgery seems to think so. And if the speculation is killing you and you want to apply a more empirical approach to your questioning, our deranged cousin at Fleshbot chewed through the ropes long enough to post some more revealing pics (NSFW). Seems like Lindsay hasn't had them long enough to have mastered the fine art of keeping them inside her dress.

An insider offers observations on the negotiations between the Writers Guild and the studios, and it looks like the real winners are going to be the pharmacies and the realtors. (Actually, the pharmacies win pretty much every day in Hollywood, but we digress.) After last week's "negotiations broke down, pharmacies were flooded all over town with refill requests for Ambien, Xanax, Valium.....because lots of people are terrified, here, frankly."

Poor Scientology. Kabbalah's the inclusionary spiritual inspiration society* getting all the press these days, supposedly marrying off Demi and Ashton, inspiring Britney to get gibberish Hebrew tattoos, and hawking Madonna's awful children's book. But L.A. Voice's Mack Reed spent his Mother's Day brunching at the Scientology Celebrity Centre, sampling the decor, and somehow escaping without a strange urge to give John Travolta ten percent of his salary:

Aint' It Cool News hears from "talent agents" that NBC won't pick up the pilot of American version of the BBC hit The Office (which stars The Daily Show's Steve Carrell, left) for a series. The networks present their Fall schedules to advertisers next week (barring writers' strike Armageddon, which will seriously confuse things), and NBC seems to prefer sticking with safe, cheap fare where struggling actors consume the colorectal tracts of farm animals (Fear Factor) or pretend that they can love the physically unattractive (Average Joe). NBC may consider The Office for midseason or a minor-league demotion to Bravo.

The message from the MPAA is clear: pirate a horrendously under-performing movie and go to jail. A 34-year-old Los Angeles man has been sentenced to 42 days in jail for taking a camcorder into The Alamo and recording the Disney mega-flop.

Blogger A Fly On The Wall has a report from the set of Meet the Fockers, the upcoming Meet the Parents sequel. After Barbra Streisand admonished an assistant director for committing the sin of calling her "Barb," Dustin Hoffman has made it his mission to torture her; he now insists on referring to her as Barb [Ed.note—Is this Hoffman character fucking insane?] and outfitted the crew in "Bush 2004" buttons. Barbra declared Hoffman a "putz" and stormed off the set, and Robert DeNiro had to talk her into returning. We're waiting for the prankster Hoffman to put on a Yentl mask and threaten to have the craft service guy killed because he's out of egg bagels.

Continuing the proud literary tradition of Ethan Hawke, actor/former Michael Jackson playdate Macaulay Culkin has written a novel. Junior will be released by Miramax books next spring and will reportedly be based on Culkin's life. Defamer, as always, is right on top of things and has already obtained this excerpt:

More troubles for Disney CEO Michael Eisner and the new office fortifications he's installed to repel his marauding enemies:

Take refuge in the numbers that make us all momentarily forget about people half a world away being dressed in garbage bag Batman costumes without the benefit of Joel Schumaker's loving direction:

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·Project Greenlight just winnowed down 1,733 entrants to 50 to make an interesting television show that will eventually put out an unwatchable movie.
·Gawkermonkey Choire is already face down in his own vomit by now, so we feel compelled to tell you about the debris from Billy Joel's drinky-drinky crashy-crashy being sold at auction for $1,075 American dollars.
·Bored? Go watch Detour in the Hollywood Forever Cemetary, and try not to desecrate any graves.
·Thank God for French law and order: Riot police will shield the Cannes festival from starving, unhealthy actors with picket signs.
·The Friars Club is roasting Donald Trump. What's there to make fun of? He's rich and gets the Trump Salad tossed by one of the hottest women in the world. Oh, yeah. The hair.

We'd run a bad review round-up, but MovieJuice Diary's Mark Ramsey seems to sum up what we've been hearing about Van Helsing: