Like the cleaning of a house, Rihanna's press circus never ends! Although last night, her 20/20 segment finally wrapped up. The rest of the world sighed a humongous cloud of relief because this sit-down with Diane Sawyer looked promising. It was a humble, pitch-perfect way to close that part of the pop star's life before she fully immerses herself into her Rated R campaign. Face-to-face with Sawyer, Rihanna showed that she has it in her to make peace with this altercation. And despite being well-timed, in case this tabula rasa misfires, here's a considerably more palatable alternative! Regardless, in her provocative interview, Rihanna kept an admirably cool, level head. She wasn't on a mission to point fingers, assign blame, or ravage the last flecks of meat dangling from the corpse of Chris Brown's career. She simply sussed out the events of that fateful February night, picked apart the psychology leading up to those events, and shined light onto a history of domestic violence in her family.

I didn't go to the Yankees parade today, because as much of a fan as I am, the kind that go to parades are the kind of sports fans I try to avoid in general: people who can get out of work on a Friday and be shitfaced before I even wake up. Well, these were the people who got to watch Yankee mascot Jay-Z perform "Empire State of Mind" for Mayor Bloomberg, the World Series-winning Yankees, and the thousands of drunk people who descended on downtown New York, from the Battery to City Hall, to scream at their favorite team, centaurs and all. Video after the jump. The image of Jay-Z rapping in front of City Hall? Priceless.

Look. I know Mo'Nique and I didn't see eye-to-eye in the past, but that doesn't mean I think less of her as an actress. In fact, I'm still pulling for her to pick up an Oscar win, possibly as a tasteful eff you to less-deserving victors of yore. Also as a bird-flip to the Academy who probably assume that with her unique body of work, she'd never get within spitting distance to even a Best Supporting Actress nomination. In fact, she and I celebrate our birthdays within a day of each other, so I could think of no one more fitting to uncork a bottle of champagne with. Another reason to pop the champy? Today, Precious opens everywhere (well, New York and Los Angeles anyway). Many of you are probably coordinating your happy hours accordingly. But somewhere in your post-movie regiment this evening, you may need to work in a restaurant conducive to eating your emotions, as the film is set to leave salt deposits on your face. Five suggestions after the jump.

You know what's been really singeing the edges of Miley Cyrus' lone brain cell? How not to be such a tabloid magnet. The pop coquette said to a friend who told an ex-girlfriend who told a pre-op trans-centaur who inevitably told a tabloid, "People will always say that I'm overworking, overexposed and want all this attention. That's not true." Surely Cyrus realizes that her voice will always be heard around the world, like the hyper-amplified bleat of a sheep. Whether it's her take on issues like unemployment topping 10.2% or her views on flarf poetry, everyone will always wait for the Miley Moment before continuing further discussion.

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.)

Hollywood’s gossip-in-chief Nikki Finke reported yesterday that as of September 2011, Oprah Winfrey will stop syndicating her talk show and move it to the as yet unlaunched Oprah Winfrey Network. Or in real talk: Oprah’s jumping to some unspecified channel you don’t even get yet. This move, if it plays out, is bad news for CBS (who currently sells Oprah to other TV stations), for people who don’t like exploring the wilds of cable’s triple digits, and possibly even for Oprah herself, depending on how many viewers make the effort to find her on OWN. (She’s lucky she has a more dedicated fan base than Howard Stern). But, as Oprah would remind us, it’s better to focus on the positive. Who are the folks who benefit if The Big O moves off the dial?

2012 is Roland Emmerich's big destruction epic where after Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow, Godzilla, and Stargate, he basically threw up his hands, said "fuckit, bring on The Four Horsemen and kill 'em all." Which he tried to do in his other movies, but they weren't "Kill 'Em All" enough, so he decided to make 2012, the selling point of which is the world is definitely going to end, there's no question that it won't, it's just a matter of why and how and how we're going to kill them and who we're going to kill, and let's do this shit. And after we do that shit, you know the world lives, because we're gonna make a goddamned TV show about 2013. As a fan of the End of the World genre, and as someone who counts the epic genius of Independence Day as a Great American Movie, I can no longer stand by and allow Roland Emmerich to cash in on making shit movies anymore. From the tyranny of bad End of the World moviemaking, today is our Independence Day. Here's your 2012 spoiler.

Who purchases a ticket to see Britney Spears in tour and actually expects her to sing live these days? She's not Miranda Cosgrove, so let's not hold her to unrealistic expectations. Although some assy member of the Australian parliament has. And what a shocker it is, where said member tears Brit-Brit a new one for not bothering to use the god-given gift of singing when she performs in concert. She insists that concert-goers should be made aware at point of purchase, that the concert probably will not be live. Err, people who know Britney know that they're not going into hear Maria Callas or even a slightly post-crack Whitney. Spears hasn't released a tune in over five years that hasn't been autotuned and vocodered within an inch of its life.

In 2012 Roland Emmerich lays the following things to waste: the Washington Monument, the White House, Yosemite National Park, the city of Los Angeles, Christ the Redeemer, the Vatican, the Himalayas, Las Vegas, Air Force One, and a Buddhist Monastery. Notably absent from the carnage (besides the Kaaba in Mecca) is the fair city of New York, which Emmerich vaporized in Independence Day, flattened in Godzilla, and froze in The Day After Tomorrow. So we have one question: why?

By performing enough spells to burn mid-sized Prussian villages to the ground, flighty mogulista Madonna is now finally rid of ex-husband Guy Ritchie. Which frees her up to try her own hand at being an auteur. This works well! Because there won't be awkward bedroom exchanges that find Ritchie sulking, spouting, "Oh. I'm the filmmaker in this family, but people obviously like your crappy films better than my crappy films! Harrumph," and Madonna groaning and offering, "No, no sweetheart, you're a special person," as she applies witch hazel to her chapped cheeks and swigs a half bottle of Maalox before nodding off. Oh, those olds and their Maalox. Projects that will suffer premature ends then: the album campaign for her umpteenth greatest hits and some finishing school for Malawi girls that she was heading up she was heading up. The barge is already headed for another port, and so on.