Peckerwood Manor

Danger ahead! It's called  George Clooney .  The man, the myth, or at least the myth-in-his-own-mind. He's pictured above with his new store-bought teefs, along with evidence that he may well need a re-do of his under-eye surgery - the only cosmetic tweek he'll admit to - since those bags definitely won't fit under the seat or in the overhead bin.  George, as you know, likes to think of himself as both a regular funny-bunny guy and Lord Almighty of The High Church of Hollywood. Beware of both. In terms of the former, his eyes frequently glisten with an aw-shucks twinkle when he jokes about his longtime bestie, Brad Pitt , whom he calls "Pretty Boy Brad," or when he mocks his nipple-dee-do-da, 1997 "Batman" outfit, or mentions how often he likes to play pranks while on set. See? He's just a regular guy. So rascally! Such a scamp! Except when he's not. When Quentin Tarantino recently told the press that George is "not a movie star,"

How I long for the bygone days of couch-jumping and maniacal laughter. No, for reals. Ever since the writers and actors went on strike, all of your favorite celebs are no longer on the promotional ho stroll making fools of themselves or being tacky. Ergo, celebrity gossip isn't just in the crapper, it's an unsinkable molly brown - or a brown trout of, let's say, the Piers Morgan variety. Eeeow! No one wants that.  How do we know this? Because all the gossip sites are straining really hard to come up with stuff now that the stars are hunkering down - or protesting, God help us, like Susan Sarandon . Take "Page Six," which today has this earth-shattering news: "Barbara Walters' Last Words!" Which are the none-too-earth-shattering, "No regrets. I've had a great life." That's not just a crumb parading as a story, it's your grandfather's flaky beard dandruff and sputum dotting his dark blue shirt. What else does "Page Six&q