Soman's in the (K)now

Desperate for an opening zinger, I went back to the reigning diva, Mei Pin Phua...

ME: Help me Diva. I have no opening zinger. My readers will think I'm lame. Suppose they start reading the Indy? Or god forbid, the Lampoon? Make me laugh. Plus, you owe me for taking you to Roka for that wafu steak.

MEI PIN: how abt how wen we went out 2 dinnr b4 senior soiree, this old lady at e othr tabl leand ovr n askd us if it ws e nite of e prom.

LOSER OF THE WEEK: MATT DAMON

Matt Damon's golden sheen has dulled. Remember when the Talented Mr. Damon could do no wrong? That's back when the press thought he was the greatest thing since - well, Matthew McConaughey. But like all large groups of people, the media hounds become restless when there's no drama, no outstanding conflict - after all the glowing adjectives, flattering cover stories, "It Boy" championing, it comes time to tear the good old boy down. But why nail Damon and not Affleck, you ask? After all, Ben's the one with no talent and Ben's the one who's dating Gwynnie. But Ben's also the more charming of the two - he plays to the press with his self-deprecating "I Know I Suck" schtick so the press has no choice but to fawn all over him (it's good ol' reverse psychology). It all started downhill for Matt when the Academy passed him over for The Talented Mr. Ripley and decided to nominate his co-star, Jude Law, instead (the "Golden Boy" torch was officially passed). Realizing that Mr. Damon was about to lose his luster, the rumor mill went into overdrive - any seedy information about Matt would be welcomed and promptly printed. And like clockwork, two weeks later, the stories appear. Here are the two most incriminating:

Accusation #1: The "Jealous Boyfriend" Clich. According to one columnist, at a post-Oscar party, nominee Russell Crowe (perhaps slightly intoxicated) was "overinsistent" with Winona and got just a little too touchy-feely with her for Matt's taste (not only did Russell steal his Oscar nom, he also was making moves on his girl). So Matt freaks, Russell double freaks, both erupt in hysterics, Russell leaves in a tizzy, Matt cuddles the traumatized Ryder. Isolated incident? Well, not if you consider

Accusation #2: The "Tom Ripley" Affair. This is unsubstantiated gossip if I've ever heard it, but I might as well report it. According to the New York Post, Hollywood is buzzing that Matt Damon is unhealthily obsessed with... Mark Wahlberg. [collective murmur] It's an elaborate story - according to columnist Richard Jonson, Matt fears Wahlberg as his Ripley-esque rival; Wahlberg is more "real," coming from the streets of Boston instead of the sheltered life of Cambridge and Harvard and Wahlberg can easily snatch up the roles that Damon is too prissy to play. Damon's growing obsession with Wahlberg - he talks about him constantly, even stalked him at points - "became unsettling to Ryder, sources say, so when he made a recent trip to L.A., she found out where Wahlberg was staying and went to talk to him about defusing the situation." Wahlberg welcomed the news from Winona - but unfortunately, "after she'd spent some time with the hunky actor in his suite at the trendy Argyle Hotel on Sunset Boulevard, she succumbed to his charms" and slept with him. The climax of the story? Eventually, Winona "was unable to conceal her infidelity from Damon, who was doubly furious that she'd cheated with the object of his now apparently justified paranoia."

I think the story is preposterous. So do Damon and Ryder's spokeswomen. "This is ridiculous," says Ryder's rep Mara Buxbaum. Then to leave the door open to the possibility, she adds quickly, "I haven't heard anything about this. I have no idea. I can't get in touch with her" "This sounds like the dumbest story I've ever heard," says Damon's rep Jennifer Glaisek. But who cares if the story is true? The important thing is that it's indicative of the souring mood on Matt - his halo is gone, his golden sheen tarnished. And in the background, Ben Affleck breathes a sigh of relief.

SOUNDBITES: FREDDIE & ASHLEY

There's a crucial boundary between being interesting during interviews and just being overindulgent. There's also an important boundary between eccentricity and unintelligence. But alas, I have changed my ways and add no pithy commentary - read these blips from interviews with Freddie Prinze Jr. and Ashley Judd in this month's Movieline and Premiere magazines and judge for yourself.

"My dreams are overtly cinematic. They have irony, satire, puns. Here's a good one: I dreamed that I was at my Mamaw and Papaw's houseI was opening the bathroom closet. Both of my grandparents are dead, and I know this in my dream, and I just wanted to look at their towels, because the towels were great - we wrapped up in them as children and did dances. I open the closet and in the back, there's a lovely, sepia-toned eight-by-ten photograph of a man. And for some reason, in the dream, his name is Joseph; we don't have a Joseph in our family, but I was wondering, because it was such an archetypically patriarchal photograph, if maybe it was supposed to be Joe Kennedy. Who is my best friend's grandfather. And as I look at it - it's a profile picture, just gorgeous, very Italian-looking - he turns and starts to speak. He's a talking picture! And he starts to tell me the circumstances around the moment when that picture was taken. Is that not the greatest thing? I mean, I love going to sleep!" - Ashley Judd

"It's hard to be an adult and be a young actor in this business because everybody kisses your ass and caters to every single thing you need." - Freddie Prinze Jr.

"'A friend of mine told me that you eat the animal's fear. Which, if you think about hormones, and adrenaline, and the panic of the flight-or-fight response, it's quite true." - Ashley

"I'll be honest. I still play [in my made up superhero world.] Because that's what's fun for me. I have all the sound here in my bedroom so I can turn it up loud. I live alone and when I get bored or lonely, I make up scenarios in my head and I play 'em out." - Freddie

"Last night I did something that I'm really not sure I've ever done before in my life. I - what's the word? Gelled? Chilled? No, vegged!" - Ashley

SOMAN'S SHORTS

Thank God for Elian Gonzalez. Yes, yes, I'm as sick of the very pampered little boy as you are ("Mommy mommy, I want ice cream!" he screams and the next day Ben and Jerry's brings him a lifetime supply), but he thankfully ended a severe news drought. Until last week, Time and Newsweek were resorting to their stock stories - you know, updates of "Is There Really Life on Mars?", "Human Cloning: The Future is Now," "Was Jesus Black?," etc... Every time Anna Kournikova wins a tennis match, her mother and coach make a beeline for the nearest liquor stand to take shots... Resorting to legal force, Oprah managed to prevent one of her ex-employees from writing an expose of what really happens behind the scenes at the Oprah Winfrey show. Ironic, of course, since Oprah championed free speech when she was sued by those Texas cattle ranchers a couple of years back... Everyone's buzzing about this Saturday's SNL that'll spoof Ricky Martin, Jennifer Lopez, Elton John -- and there's a nasty little rumor that Celine Dion might come out of retirement for one last show... Who will play Spiderman? Director Sam Raimi is casting the picture for Columbia and rumors suggest that either Leo DiCaprio, Heath Ledger or Jude Law will don the red and blue skintight suit. Ledger is getting buzz for his performance alongside Mel Gibson in next month's The Patriot, but I'm betting on Law to score the webslinging role... I'm thinking of adapting Showgirls into a musical to go up on the Mainstage next year (after the Loeb, to Broadway!). I don't know how to write music but I think that'll be half the fun. Anybody want to direct? (Or play the Elizabeth Berkeley role? Maybe you can get a grant to do field research.)...After triumphantly proclaiming that Britney Spears' new song, "Oops... I Did It Again" was one of the greatest things I've heard in my life, a co-editor snapped, "You just like bad music." And though I didn't react at the time, the more I think about it, the more I start to lose my temper. Who's to say that "Oops... I Did It Again" isn't the epitome of art, the highest form of musical achievement? The truth is, musical taste is so ridiculously subjective that we can't control it. Just witness the countless boys and mothers who hide behind big sunglasses or make an excuse when they purchase the next Britney or Backstreet Boys CD. (You really didn't think all 11 million copies were being bought by teenage girls, did you?) Does good music have to be "groundbreaking"? Or should good music really be defined by "catchiness"? Huge, earth-shattering questions. At the end of the day, all I know is that once you hear "Oops," whether you like it or not, it's in your head for the rest of the week. Just try to resist it. I dare you.