Yesterday, Jezebel brought to our attention something of great importance: The new Mariah Carey music video. This video for "Up Out My Face," Carey's first single off Angel's Advocate--the companion remix album to last year's Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel--substantiates the claim that Carey had a "genius breakthrough" when creating Angel: clunky lyrics, overcooked production and non-singing are its hallmarks. But all of us who scratch our heads and wonder, "Why is crap like this getting funded and then turning a profit?" need look no further than the video for "Face." The video proves that Carey really no longer cares what we think. She's found a demographic that will buy her wares, instead of casting her off into the same ghetto where pop peers like Madonna, Whitney Houston and Paula Abdul have taken up residence.

It's not that bashing celebrities who "lend their efforts" towards Haiti earthquake relief is suddenly trendy. It's that someone has to call out crocodile tears. With all sorts of disasters--natural and man-made--wreaking havoc across the globe, maybe A-listers shouldn't just piggyback on the latest media-friendly calamity to ravage the world. As we've already learned, philanthropy is a ruthless game of one-upmanship. And issuing competing charity singles obscures the plight of those who have lost their homes, family members or gone missing. There's already one crappy charity single in the works, so why make another one? There's also the question, why do people have to be duped into buying a piece of substandard pop in order to help the cause?

Yesterday, Gabourey Sidibe explained to us how she has always been awesome and we were all like, "Duh, girl! Wanna get some drinks later?" And that was that. Today, we learn about a diva whose life has seen its own fair share of ups and downs. A diva who may or may not has been known to shake her fist defiantly at the sky and cry, "Why is my life like an oversalted pork rind?" A diva, who has, post-Precious, found a wellspring of confidence, a new lust for life. Mariah Carey has discovered that for a boost of morale, she needs to put down her concealer and start getting real. With herself and with the world.

The acceptance speeches at this weekend's Golden Globe Awards ceremony were pretty sober: Mo'Nique delivered a teary and humble soliloquy (erasing from Hollywood's collective memory all rumors of her ingratitude leading up to awards season); Robert Downey, Jr. jokingly thanked his wife for telling him that "Matt Damon is going to win, so don't bother preparing a speech;" Sandra Bullock was just as surprised as the rest of us that she went home with anything other than Jesse James. I'd been rooting for Gabourey Sibide to take home the Serious Thespian With Lots of Screen-time Award this year, but after watching this clip of An Education's Carey Mulligan sneaking an elfin bottle of vodka past security into the Beverly Hilton, I kind of wish she'd been able to give her swishy props to God and the little people. Smooth-like-butter segue alert! After the jump, five celebrities whose substance-induced ramblings turned top-notch awards ceremonies into Christmas at my uncle's house.

● While partying in rowdy Ottawa with Adam Lambert, Lady Gaga threw her drink on a patron shouting homophobic slurs at him. Best fag hag ever? [Mirror]
● Mariah Carey gets drunk, wins an award, accepts award while drunk. [Buzzfeed]
● Miley Cyrus on a stripper pole and the 15 other most embarrassing photos of the coming decade. [Cracked]

Have you ever thought to yourself, "Wow, these music videos would be really great if someone were to tack on bulky, stupid ads before and after each one?" Well, friend, you're not alone! Because you see some dinosaurs nearing extinction got together, pow-wowed, and cooked up Vevo. You see, Vevo is what we'd categorically call as "last-ditch attempt at saving face," because no one buys CD anymore. And rather than actually be taken task for making too much money demonstrating too little effectiveness, RIAA suits would rather find a way to take away more of our happiness.

Some time ago, Mariah Carey, of all pop stars, remarked incisively about how it's no longer enough for musicians to record songs. Now they have to establish themselves as businesses. It then makes sense that Robbie Williams, who's currently riding the high of a well-tailored comeback, is looking to branch out similarly. With his current four-album record deal with EMI coming to a close, Williams is looking to sidestep record label bosses and establish himself as a self-governing musical entity for the next phase of his career. This way, investors -- maybe including financial institutions -- would his production costs on the promise of a 50% return on all profits. It's another advance that hacks away overgrown weeds of an industry still gasping to keep up with the predominantly digital tendencies of music fans. It also makes them the latest in a growing line of self-employed pop stars increasingly fed up with record label cock-ups.

● The end of the world won’t be coming in 2012; it’s happening September 2011, when Oprah goes off the air. [WSJ]
● Mariah Carey’s demand to be surrounded by 20 white kittens and 100 white doves for the Westfield Christmas Lighting ceremony was denied, although she will be chauffeured in a Rolls Royce and escorted by 80 security guards. [DailyMail]
● Pamela Anderson finally had "the talk" with her kids. No, not the sex talk, the "your father and I made a sex tape" talk, telling her sons that: “Mommy and Daddy were massively in love, we videotaped everything and you’re probably going hear about [it] at school.” [RadarOnline]

Inside midtown Manhattan’s Bistro Milano, television screens broadcast an Italian soccer game, around which the majority of servers and patrons have crowded to gasp, cheer, and clap in unity. But first-time actress Gabourey Sidibe, oblivious, drowns out the clatter with her frequent snort-punctuated laughter. “My roommate and I love Chipotle. It’s so awesome!” she says, chuckling. “We go around noon, and we’re like, How badass would it be if we got a Corona with our burrito -- we’re such derelicts.” Sidibe’s definition of what makes a derelict couldn’t be further from the abuse she suffers as the title character in Lee Daniel’s Precious. Alongside Mo’Nique as her bilious mother, Sidibe plays a teenager who is twice impregnated by her HIV-positive father. The film, a dark but hopeful story about urban poverty and spiritual endurance, was produced by Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry, and will quite possibly garner Oscar nominations for its two leads. Here, the charming and spirited Sidibe explains the magic of being in the same room with Oprah, Mariah and, um, Steve Buscemi. (For more on Sidibe, check out the upcoming December/January issue of BlackBook -- this is just the gossipy stuff.)

So last we heard, Mariah Carey's's Memoirs of An Imperfect Angel was the aural equivalent of Charlie Darwin's On the Origin of Species. A genius breakthrough so staggering that all other developments in the free world needed to be put on hold in order to truly appreciate the soulful niceties of the record. But the chanteuse is fully aware of her own octave-defying brilliance. In fact, she confides in Parade, "This album I'm loving because I took chances."