real fame seekers know that wearing at least three necklaces guarantees photo and news coverage. duh.

Trans-Atlantic  famegamer, Peaches Geldof is back in the gossip pages this week as a result of her impending divorce from musician Max Drummer. The dissolution of the 19-year-old mouthy Britt’s marriage with her barely famous husband is just another disaster in a long line of bad press Peaches has accrued since immigrating to Brooklyn. After she was ridiculed for her short-lived column in Nylon, her reality show on MTV was canned, and the plug was pulled on her magazine, Disappear Here, one would think she would have disappeared into flannel shirt anonymity with the rest of her hipster pals.

But not this little British tart. Although Peaches would like you to believe her split from Drummer was amicable, “After much soul-searching we have made a mutual decision to end our marriage and have agreed to go our separate ways. Our parting is amicable and both of us still respect and care about each other immensely. There were no other people involved in this decision and we both look forward to a future as good friends” (Sunday Times), rumors swirling around the gossip pages about her getting cozy with another lady at a loft party in Bushwick and her new love affair with Donald Cumming lead me to believe otherwise.

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even your living room has a red carpet

The New York Post’s Page Six Magazine reports on a recent development that brings up a few questions for anyone interested in celebrities. It is now possible to hire people to create celebrity-style spectacles for “regular” folks:

Whispers of “Who was that?” can be heard. Ashley Tisdale? Miley Cyrus? One of the photographers has the answer: “Ariel. Don’t you know who she is?” Probably not. In fact, Ariel Jacobs is just a regular teen from Island Park, Long Island, celebrating her sweet 16. The shutterbugs? Hired by her parents from Celeb 4 A Day, a company that provides A-list experiences . . .

One of the first things that jumps out is the phrase “just a regular teen.”  Ariel, in other words, is not an authentic celebrity–is not, that is, someone whom paparazzi would photograph for free.  But what is it that makes paparazzi follow someone?  It’s money.  In the celebrity gossip mag world the money comes from customers desperate to gawk at familiar faces.  I would perhaps not blow too many minds by pointing out that many of the most photographed celebrities possess no visible qualities beyond those they share with Ariel: teen-aged, cute.

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Cafe-Press had this thing up within 5 minutes. Beat that, internet.

According to the New York Times, he was mentioned 24 times during the debate last night; he is the new “from Wall Street to Main Street,” the overlooked drinking game buzz-word. I knew he was headed for stardom at my debate watching gathering as soon as he was coined “J to the P” by about the 10th mention. It has a nice ring to it. Like, a he could be in hip-hop videos kind of ring. What an idea! How do I get him? Who’s his publicist? It must be someone good considering three news trucks were parked outside his house last night and echoes of his interview with Katie Couric seem the city’s soundtrack today. Oh yeah, and you can find him: Here, Here, Here, and Here. And everywhere.

Book deal? Who has the movie rights?! One thing’s for sure, by the end of this week, J to the P can most definitely afford his own small business (and pay those economy wrenching small business taxes we hear so much about), but maybe he won’t want to plumb no more? I hear fame can go to your head or something? Fuck it. I’m still being him for Halloween.

Of course, at the very least, I’m buying the T-Shirt.