Hotmess Courtney Love reports that hotmess Britney Spears was molested as a kid. Usher is a girlyman. Captain Scuzzybutt Esq. will make Page Six one day. Natalie Portman's "tits." Barbara Cocoran's PR team. Presenting your late-edition Saturday Morning Gossip Roundup:

  • I like it, Rush & Molloy, I like it. Thanks for the nice, scandalicious, SEO-happy headline. The Boris and Natasha-esque Daily News gossip columnists have been stepping up their game lately. Today they slice-and-dice their Moose and Squirrel sights on a few items, chief among them: laughing at Courtney Love's batshit claim that Britney Spears was molested as a young girl, and the British tabloid who's paying an unnamed female Spears family member to argue that she did. That said, Courtney Love: still batshit insane, not worth listening to at all. Some conspiracy theorists, you gotta be like, hey, they might be on to something. What the hell is Courtney Love so worried about Britney Spears for? It's like she's reading us too much lately, or something. She's got to have something better to do. Also, She's kind of like The Werid Sisters, except nothing she says makes any sense whatsoever, and nobody would go to her for advice. Bubble bubble toilet and trouble, whiskey burn and tweaker mumble. [R & M]

  • Usher is a crier. Every time he watches Extreme Home Makeover, he cries. 'Few things here: (1) This is the lead Page Six story today, probably because the other two major gossip stories (Alexa Ray Joel and Tiger-Style) get their own reports, but still: depressing; (2) Everyone cries at Extreme Home Makeover. People without tear ducts cry at Extreme Home Makeover. That doesn't make any less shitty or exploitative of a show. They're prying on your middle-class-and-above selfishness and need to compensate for it with guilt (or, if you're Usher, your boatloads of scratch), so your natural reaction is, of course, to cry. Well, guess what: when you're done crying, those people and their twelve adopted children have still been fucked eight ways to Pluto by the universe and they also still have a smile on their face at the end of the day. In swoops ABC with their cameras and JC Penny's with their advertising and the screamy tweakergay who scares the shit out of me. They get the house, everyone cries, and like that, we've all been subverted by the fucked up corporate entity that—by four or so degrees—probably resulted in their poor living conditions in the first place. So go ahead, keep crying. Assholes. But this doesn't change the fact that (3) Ush-urr got the beat make the booty go (CLAP). [Page Six]

  • Johnson & Johnson heir Casey Johnson was dumped by "lover and friend" Courtenay Semel, but neither of them were in Twilight so I don't give a shit. Come back when you sparkle or can turn into an eagle or some shit. [Page Six]

  • JEETAH! He eats chicken. [Page Six]

  • Great. Tyra Banks was spotted eating at Market Table the other night with her boyfriend. The Page Six item is about how they were there eating all the fatty foots but honestly, it's like, just stay out of New York's good restaurants, Tyra. You don't need to eat. Your life encourages other people not to eat, or to throw up, or in my case, to involuntarily projectile vom. Go to Nello's. Shit, go to Buddakahn. Read all the fake books painted on the walls, come out "smarter." But Market Table? Seriously. If you take it to Joseph Leonard I'm gonna burn the West Village to the ground. [Page Six]

  • Love it. Today show producers wanted to get her to talk about this so they were all like, So, Kathy Lee, Frank fucked around on you. This makes you an expert on Tiger Woods, right? [R & M, Second Item]

  • Gianni Versace (pronounced VER-SAZE-EE) "must be turning in his grave" according to Page Six. What, did someone realize that his Peacock-print shirts were ugly as a fucking moon rock? I didn't read the rest of this item. I think it's about his Miami house. Former house. Former, because he's dead. [Page Six]

  • What the fuck?
  • F. Warrington Gillet Jr. can finally rest in peace. "Big Warry," as he was known in Palm Beach, died seven years ago and had a big funeral befitting his bloodlines — one ancestor was US Ambassador to the Soviet Union Joseph Davies, the husband of Marjorie Merriweather Post. But his widow, steel heiress Elesabeth Ingalls Boykin Gillet, never put a tombstone on his unmarked grave in Maryland.

  • Okay guys, if F. Warrington Gillet Jr. can make Page Six, if you dream it, you can, too. Just make sure you send Richard and Neel an unmarked envelope stacked with enough cash to get them to get an intern to write this shit up. In fact, I'm working on an item about how the two cats I don't own, Captain Scuzzybutt Esq. and Muffin McCloud III fell in love, as they recounted the story to a party in Miami at Art Basel while everyone drank Veuve Cliquot on dry ice and Andy Dick tried to put his pants on backwards. [Page Six]

  • Guys, does Barbara Corcoran have a main line into Page Six, or what? This week, there's a story about the real estate queen bumping into Robert DeNiro in the "Today" show makeup room. De Niro—still kinda funny—asked her how the real estate business was [get it? Because it's fucked and etc, yeah, you get it.] and she responded by asking if he was still with that beautiful wife of his. Cute. But AH-HA! Two weeks ago, during that same visit to the Today Show, Babs' (far funnier) story about running into Len Berman at Today was ALSO reported. So! Either Today has an intern hiding in a houseplant to collect decent anecdotes, Barbara Corcoran has an awesome publicist, or Corcoran's been hanging out at Today was too much. There are any number of scenarios in this case, but the fact that I feel pride in being able to connect these two items only means that I need to get out more. Also, Babs, if you're looking for a hot PR drop, holla. I can't take cash like the real gossips, but it's always good to know a decent real estate agent in this town. Apartment hunting's a bitch. [Page Six]

  • Rosanne Barr sits around and talks shit with former First Lady Barbara Bush, who "hates" Obama. Well, that's okay, Barbara Bush, you're sitting around talking with Rosanne Barr. [R & M, Second Item]

  • A Harvard dean who was supposed to be at an event with Mark Conseulos and Kelly Ripa came down with Swine Flu. Good to know where your professors hang out, Harvard: with Kelly Ripa and in places you can catch Swine Flu. Ivy league, my ass. [Page Six]

  • Natalie Portman thanked director Jim Sheriden for the "special effects" on Brothers. I'm thankful to Natalie Portman for getting quoted using the word "tits" in the Daily News. [R & M, Fourth Item]

  • Anthony Haden-Guest—who, and, really, I'm not going to explain—was roasting artist Damien Hirst (who is an Important Artist right now selling Expensive Art to Fancy People) at The Standard in Miami (where Art Basel is wrapping up) and he did it with this fairly crafty poem, entitled "A Brilliant But Inexplicably Underappreciated Artist Contemplates Some Figures in the Landscape." It went: "Why would I want to see him immersed / In formaldehyde next to his putrid shark / And sold as a set to an oligarch?" This was in reference to a Hirst piece sold to a billionaire. What I like about thinking about artists who only sell paintings for bazillions of dollars because they all blew Larry Gagosian is that they're a fine lesson in exactly what kind of art sells in this world: theirs, and their poster reprints at the MoMA. And that's really all you need to know! [Page Six]

  • Glenn Beck is "cool" with gay marriage and thinks we should just leave the institution of marriage "alone." This is funny, because, regardless of your gender, Glenn Beck's job is to stick his dick in your ear. [R & M, Fifth Item]

  • Awesomely funny asshole-comic Jim Norton almost got his spine snapped in half by Jesse "The Body" Ventura (R) on live radio recently. See, people: radio isn't dead. Especially whenever Jim Norton might be. [Page Six]

  • R & M buried a few decent items on their last page, but I've spent way too long on this, so here: Zack Galifinakis likes working in Brooklyn on Bored to Death because he can ride his bike to work, subtext, every woman in Brooklyn wants him and he gets to watch on his way to work. Sub-subtext: I still don't understand the appeal of Zack Galifinakis. KiKi Dunst got drunk at dinner. Chelsea Handler's dating the guy who runs Comcast who will soon run NBC and we will soon all eat out of Chelsea Handler-emblazoned dogbowls. Julian Lennon who was the Lennon son John had that acts more like Paul (HA!) is doing something that doesn't involve Yoko Fucking Ono and that's all that matters. [R & M]

Running a wee bit late today. Whoops! Anyway, I'm well-rested, and we hope you are, too. I think another nine girls who slept with Tiger Woods are outing themselves today, so, you know, word: another few slides on the dossier, notches on the belt, balls in the holes, whatever. How's everyone doing this morning? Let's kick it off with a nice jam.

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[Image via Bauer-Griffin]