Salacious sibling rivalry hits our weekly Blind Vice with newbie Pork-Me Pop-Off poised to overtake (via sex, natch) his sister's headlines. Plus, the Obama victory and some scary notes to outta-bounds mamas like Lynne Spears get us more wide-eyed than Brit's lattes do!

After months—nay, years—of bickering, backstabbing and inappropriate appearances on reality shows and wrestling matches, Barack Obama won the Democratic prez nomination, finally ending this drawn-out, hyped-up horserace, at least betwixt the Dems themselves. Sorry, Hil-babe, you shoulda won. Between this and those reported rumors of Bill bedding every brunette he can get his chubby fingers on (as I had said eons ago would happen), it just isn't your time of the month.

Obama-babe's got almost all of H'wood on his side, in par-tick some wild 'n' crazy kinds—Eddie Murphy, Ryan Phillippe and George Clooney (you have no idea here, darlin's), to name a few. Think support coming from rough-around-the-edges celebs, some with some questionable reps will help O? And then there's Will Smith's support, complete with Scientology-related scandals, could it all somehow hinder this hottie (see today's Do-Me-Meter) from making a home for himself and Michelle in the White House? Yeah, right. Bad boys make the most news, and the more noise ya make, the bigger benefits you take—usually. And who in H'wood's really been speaking for McCain besides Heidi Montag? Only the sound of lone crickets chirping, fer sure.

This is so fun. Since Vanity Fair is pretending they're me (catch that winky-winky bit they shot 'round about Bill Clinton and Gina Gershon that's getting the Condé Nast publication in so much murky hot water right now?), I'm going to pretend I'm VF. You probably saw that bitchy job the glitzy rag did on Hollywood mamas out of control, specifically Lynne Spears, Kathy Hilton and Dina Lohan. I spoke with mamacita Kardashian herself,  Kris Jenner, right after the unkind article ran. She defended Kathy, et al, said she thought they all did bang-up jobs as moms. As I don't have kids myself, hard to judge, but hell, let's go ahead: It's a tough call. At what age do you let your kids embark on the fame game without your help, and what kind of supervision should you provide while your children are underage?

Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired, Marina Zenovich's documentary that just stormed Cannes, is about to be released in the States, and it couldn't arrive at a more opportune time. Seedy gobs have be written about Roman Polanski's statutory rape of 13-year-old Samantha Geimer in 1977. But Zenovich still manages to shed much new light on why Polanski fled the country after being made a mockery of for his crime. But still, he did commit statutory rape (R.P. later plea-bargained it down to unlawful sex with a minor because Geimer was supposedly "willing"—how utterly ridiculous that effed up fine line is, for a 13-year-old, no less). This remains a charge Polanski's never answered to.

Two points loom large after seeing the film: What, exactly, would happen to Polanski were he to re-enter the country (which he undoubtedly will by the time he gets 'round to getting one of those honorary Lifetime Achievement jobs, mark my Oscar-jaded words). And why the hell wasn't Geimer's mother put on trial for allowing her underage daughter to be photographed by womanizing Polanski, nude and alone, at Jack Nicholson's house?

"Because she wanted to help her daughter," Zenovich told me at the L.A. premiere. "She thought she was helping her career." Kathy? Dina? Lynne? Care to comment? Am I the only one who sees the most desultory analogy possible here? How many more mamas are right now sending their babes out into the snake pits of Hell-Ay, unguarded? Plenty.

Oh, and as to the former query, I rang up the L.A. District Attorney's Office. The response was simple: "He'd be arrested." Uh, not if the Academy has anything to do with it.

Prickly P.S.: For more scuttlebutt that nobody dare touch, check out my new show, Truth, Lies and Ted, Nicole's rumored fake-ola baby bump is just one our dirty little ditties!

Rumer Willis, makin' the rounds at the OP Launch Party in Bev Hills. Rumie's one of the faces of the Open Road surfer-style brand, and she kept it cute in a high-waisted pencil miniskirt and yellow ballet flats. Gal's new black bob is a billion times more flattering than that pixie look, and this Cali girl's chin-chimney doesn't seem so superbig in real life—we're chalking it all up to bad camera angles as opposed to bad genes. Elsewhere imbibing at the B.H. bash was...

Brett Ratner, doing what he does best—no, not directing (obviously). We spotted the Rush Hour helmer hitting on T-town honeys at the OP party. B Ratty was unshaven, schlumpy and bigger than we last remember him being. Sporting a gray shirt with a sports jacket, B.R. was fully hands on an airheaded actress-type in a tight, hot pink dress, puttin' his moves on the pretty woman poolside. Billy-Ray had better watch Brett-babe's back when he directs daughter Miley in her new music vid. Receiving a better response in other parts of Hell-Ay was...

Janeane Garofalo, performing at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre, H'wood's hot-spot, hipster comedy place, on a Sunday eve. Janny G. discussed everything from politics to spotting Morgan Fairchild picking up meds at the doctor's office. Wearing a tank top exposing myriad tattoos inked all over her arms (how badass), Jan-hon had to keep pulling the mic stand way down to be heard 'cause Garf gal is the most petite person we've seen in a while. Seriously, J.G. is more convincing a 14-year-old than Ali Lohan. Not exactly regular fam-style, too, were...

Jessica Simpson and Papa Joe, struck by Sin City for the opening of Palms Place at the Palms Hotel. As all the common folks were waiting for forever to take the elevators up to Moon and Playboy Club, Joe rushed up, fussin' that he needed to get his VIP party in right away. Jessie-babe and her crew of about six marched by, gal's head down while dressed discretely in all black. You could spot J-Hon a mile away, said a clubgoer, since J.S. was so short all you could see was the top of her blonder-than-usual head of hair. No sign of Ashlee or Pete, perhaps still in their honeymoon phase? Or maybe Jessie just doesn't wanna be around her lucky-in-love li'l sis?

Most likely, Brad and Angie's babies are likely to make $7.5 million apiece for their first photo shoot. We can't even scrounge up a few measly bucks for our high school yearbook photo on eBay, but two infants are worth more than most people make in a lifetime or two?

Feels like there's a smidgen of anticulturalism—OK, we'll say it: racism—with all this offspring hoopla centered on the birth of the Brangie twins. A pretty Caucasian couple creates Shiloh, and the money comes rolling in, while the twosome's other nonwhite tots join the Jolie-Pitt fam without much fanfare...and certainly not as much moolah. Ya think Maddox, Pax and Zahara are gonna develop some deep-rooted insecurities knowing how much money their womb-grown siblings have made? Or maybe the twins will have some seriously inflated egos when they realize they were worth $15 mil? How utterly fab it'll be for the world when two new versions of Paris Hilton arrive as the twins reach their teens.

What's a poor, relatively unnoticed rich-ass T-town bro to do when his sensational sis grabs all the attention? Well, Pork-Me Pop-Off chooses a tried but true approach: sleeping with shocking bed partners (not to us, mind you)!

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