Paris is back, bitches. Art Garfunkel: kind of a bitch. Ann Landers went to Scores with JFK Jr. Diane von Furstenburg's been drinking Pimp Juice. Sammy Sosa: white. Metal weddings: black. Michael Moore: fat. Presenting your Sunday Morning Gossip Roundup!

  • Uh-oh. When you read the headline "Paris Strikes Back at the Kardashians," you know you're in for some shit. #BEEF is the word. All I have to say before I read this is: Team Paris. Because it takes more to manage fame than a large ass and a bunch of braindead sisters whose names begin with K, you know? Paris backed out of the game for a while. Kept in on the DL, nahmean? She knows how to moderate these things. Now, let's see....oh, well this just sucks: Paris is "jealous" of Kim and Ko. because Kim and the Kardashians are kommanding all of this attention that she used to. So now she's gonna unveil a new line of products and let us know that her and boyfriend Doug Reinhardt are stable and normal and are also kind of thrifty, or something. I don't like this at all. If Paris wants to get back on the scene, cool, except real recognize real, P: don't change your stupidly lavish ways, you're watering down the product. All that said, still: Team Paris. [Page Six]

  • Meh, meh, okay. Fine. Boris and Natasha-esque gossip duo Rush and Molloy did an okay job this Sunday, after they rocked last week with crazy Scientology nonsense. This time, it's crazy strip club nonsense. Shitbag Michael Lohan supposedly wanted girls who looked like—eww—his daughter to dance for him, and Lindsay came in the week after to (heh) meet them. Madonna stiffed the dancers. Bill Maher was, naturally, a piece of shit. Bill Gates left a $3,500 tip. Demi Moore and Bruce Willis were, of course, totally cool. And then there's this gem:
  • Ann Landers? The advice columnist?

  • "Yeah, she interviewed John Kennedy Jr. while girls danced around him."

  • Word. Related: let's bring back George, please. [NYDN]

  • Okay, Diane von Furstenberg: clearly, you ate your vegetables and drank your Pimp Juice for dinner the other night, because this is pretty awesome. DVF was at a jam at The Standard and decided she needed to go home because it was ovah for her. Her rooftop Meatpacking District lair—I'm serious, it's like something that emerged somewhere between Narnia and Spaceballs—is just a few blocks away, so she decided to hoof it. Having recently been mugged in Spain, she pointed to tall, good looking guy at the party, and said, You, you are escorting me home. Baller status. DVF, we approve. [Page Six]

  • Papa Lohan, besides being insane, is still in deep contention for Fuckface Father of the Year: he skipped out on some promise to raise money for special needs kids. [Page Six]

  • Scary Metal Bro from Slipknot got married in Vegas, and him and his wife walked down the aisle to For Whom The Bell Tolls. Well, his mother definitely isn't Jewish. This is like the opposite of the Chris Brown Wedding Dance people. [People]

  • Page Six: Michael Moore, you're fat and you're movie sucks. Also, you've done nothing to win the favor of Page Six, like escorting Diane von Furstenberg home. Asswizzard. [Page Six]

  • Get this: some model named Chanel Iman thinks the Boom Boom Room is a great place to hang out. Big fucking surprise. Related, Gawker readers, for purposes of context, you should heretoforth do whatever research is necessary to understand what a Boom Boom Room is and why it's significant to this here feature. Because you will be reading about this Room of Boom Boom. Oh yes. You will. [NYDN]

  • The guy who used to be Billy Mays' partner on Pitchmen, Anthony Sullivan, wants a six-foot wall put up around his home because neighbor Derek Jeter has one, too. Yes, well: Derek Jeter also gets to have sex with Minka Kelly, but you don't see me trying to have sex with Minka Kelly, do you, Anthony? Jesus. Just be happy for him. You're worse than Jason Street. Also, notice how I had to actually preface Anthony Sullivan's name with what he did to get famous? That's because he's not famous enough to get cleared for building a six-foot wall in Tampa. [Page Six]

  • Dear Art Garfunkel: Just because you're Art Garfunkel doesn't mean you have to treat the world like an Art Garfunkel. I hope Paul Simon laughs at you the next time he sees you, you complete assface. Art Garfunkel screamed at someone for a tissue and also told someone to quiet down a developmentally challenged person after they were making noise in his show, after which, they were escorted out. That's so sad. You know who'd write a great song about it? Yup: Paul Simon. Asswizzard! [Page Six]

  • OMFGFGGG okay, wow, deep breath, okay. There's some story about Kelly Osbourne and a dog and a Swatch store but it doesn't matter all you need to know is that if you click on the link you will see a picture of something spawned from the demon asshole of hell and it's terrifying and almost kind of rock and roll but still Jesus be prepared and don't say I didn't warn you because I just did. [Page Six]

  • Rosie O'Donnell's partner moved out and they're no longer making whoopie under the same roof. This is sad, except great, because I don't have to think about Rosie O'Donnell having sex again for another six months. Breakfast! It tastes worse coming up. [NYDN]

  • The guy from Hair has a huge dong. Go figure. Some lady ripped off his loin-cloth when he was doing his ridiculous hippie dance in the audience during the show and he got to let the sun/follow-spot shine in on his wang. [Page Six]

  • Ugh. Sammy Sosa, you are freaking me out right now. Mark McGwire's balls shrink so you go and become white? So fucked up. Ughhh. Don't get it. [TMZ]

  • Carrie Prejean's sextape is just aching to get out there. Also, best Carrie Prejean's Sextape-Related Headline: Carrie Prejean Has More Sex Tapes Than John McCain Has Houses. Genius. [NYDN]

Hey! It's Sunday. Enjoy yourselves today. Be thankful that you both (A) are not Art Garfunkel and (B) have gotten all of the Art Garfunkel's out of your life. And if you don't, maybe today would be a good day to do it, no? I hope I'm not your Art Garfunkel. In the mean time, a little jam from Paul Simon. I'd pick something from Capeman, but we're not that far into the day. So, let's do this instead:

[Photo via Bauer-Griffin]