Subject #1: Valerie Plame. A $2.5 million advance deal for a book? Honey, I don't care whether you were ever officially under cover or not, but take the money and run. Write the book, by all means, and if you really can't write for beans, let them send you a ghost writer, but that's a nice chunk of change, so don't pass it up, and don't pull a Kaavya Viswanathan.

Subject #2: Patrick Kennedy. After checking himself into rehab at the Mayo clinic, he claimed to remember nothing about the car crash. This was even after he issued a statement detailing the event, location, time, etc. No doubt he was prepped about the details before issuing the first statement. I'm more inclined to believe the blackout version, given the rampant alcoholism and drug abuse that is a Kennedy family legacy. Patrick denies drinking beforehand, yet at least two bar workers claim they served him that night, or "he's a regular here." Anyone wonder why Teddy's silence was deafening until Patrick announced that he was checking himself back into rehab? Remember Mary Jo Kopeckne? That's why. Yes, there's a cover-up here. The Capitol Hilll police no doubt were instructed to drive Kennedy home, and not give him a breathalyzer test. Hence the uproar from their union chief. I actually believe Kennedy, when he stated he didn't ask for special treatment. But that doesn't mean he didn't get it. Your ass or mine would have been locked in the hoosegow overnight for something like that. But we're not Kennedys. And he still maintains that it was Rx drugs that caused his disorientation, even after the barkeeps pretty much blew that lie out of the water.

Subject #3: Pete Dougherty. The on-and-off butt-ugly loser boyfriend of Kate Moss draws pictures using blood. They look like crayon drawings to me for the most part, but do any of you know someone who thinks it cool to draw blood and use it for ostensibly artistic purposes? I do. He uses it to autograph his self-published books; his initials spell NAP, and he thinks he's a brilliant author. Snooze is correct (well, maybe more like instantaneous migraine, if you actually attempt to read his convoluted nonsense). Enough said.