Perhaps “I am not dating Jennifer Aniston” should be added to those little yellow books of commonly used foreign language phrases; right between “Hello” and “Where is the American Embassy?”

At the Louis Vuitton show in Paris yesterday, Bradley Cooper spoke to reporters and once again denied that he and Jennifer Aniston are an item.  And he did it in French. Hot.

Translated:

She’s a friend of mine. Simply, simply, just a friend. In America, its not like it is here. She’s someone who is super, super known. Famous. If someone says ‘hello’ to her, it’s given that he’s fallen in love with her. So, no. No. She’s a very, very interesting woman, but she’s simply a friend.

I wonder how many times he’ll have to do this. Probably every time he has dinner with her. Or speaks to her. Or looks at her. Because if you have a penis and come within a 5 yard radius of Jennifer Aniston, you are dating her.

As part of his sentencing, Chris Brown was ordered not to come within 50 yards of Rihanna. But both Rihanna and Brown reportedly want to nix that part of the punishment.

“They think it’s unnecessary and ridiculous,” told a common friend of the protection order that was given at this week’s criminal proceeding….“After [the proceeding], Ri and Chris talked on the phone for almost an hour and really worked at becoming friends. They’re solid now.”

But the two are unable to speak in public to one another… The order of protection gives Brown flexibility at music-industry events, instructing that he cannot come within 10 yards of the Umbrella singer.

Let’s not forget that the petulant pugilist (a.k.a. Chris Brown, a.k.a. fart-head) has a song coming out on his new album entitled “Not My Fault” that is supposedly about a female “singer” who gets “caught up” in a relationship with Brown that goes awry and ends up in the papers– “caught up” being the new, hip street slang for “I have a tiny penis and an anger problem and brutally assaulted my girlfriend.”

The album also reportedly features a duet with hypocritical sack of lies Mary J. Blige, who has suffered domestic abuse in the past.

This whole carnival of stupidity drives me up the wall. You’ve got a music industry whose acceptance of Brown borders on condoning domestic violence,  music stars who continue to work with and defend him, and  a victim who won’t stand up for herself.

If you’re interested, the entire 911 call has been released, in which an unknown caller indicates that Jackson’s private doctor was in the room when he collapsed and may have seen what happened.

Meanwhile, fans have gathered outside Michael Jackson’s parents’ home in L.A., the L.A. coroner’s office, Jackson’s star on the walk of fame, Jackson’s Beverly Hills home, and the Apollo theater in New York to pay homage to the “King of Pop” in ways both big, and small… and strange.

The dancing impersonators, “Honk if you love Michael Jackson” signs, and middle aged women doing cutesy poses with their cardboard and glitter posters make the whole thing feel like a middle school pep rally. For death.

I have a feeling that MJ is going to evolve (or already has evolved) into an American pop culture mythology– much in the vein of Elvis or Marilyn Monroe– where devoted fans hang velvet paintings of him in their entry ways, make pilgrimages to his home on the anniversaries of his birth and death, and get him tattooed on their forearms. There you go, Megan Fox. You still have one perfectly good forearm that is not yet tattooed with something ridiculous.

In fact, there are already whack-a-doos who are claiming that he faked his own death to escape his crippling debt and to gain the kind of celebrity notoriety that goes along with a mysterious, pill-fed death alone in your bedroom.

I watched this video about a year ago and I was thinking how sad it was to watch video of Brit back when she was really on top of her game.  I remember thinking she was too far gone.

Now she’s on her way back and Michael is gone.  It’s surreal.

Britney Spears went shopping in Beverly Hills today.  Um, isn’t it summertime in California?  It isn’t in Massachusetts but I’m pretty sure it’s not snowing on the west coast, so please help me to understand why she’s wearing winter boots.  Is this some sort of updated Ugg (I like to call them Ughs) thing?

Anyway, Brit looks great.  In shape, very blonde, very tan.  Have you ever noticed that if you look close enough you can find a mark or stain in almost every candid, on-the street picture of Brit?  Stains and tacky manicures — they’re her trademarks.

The L.A. County Coroner’s office has performed an autopsy on the body of Michael Jackson.  The results came back as inconclusive.  Foul play was ruled out and further toxicology testing is needed.  Those results will take four to six weeks.

As if there was any sneaking suspicion that Jackson’s death wasn’t somehow quickened by the abuse of prescription drugs, TMZ dug up a lawsuit from 2007 in which a pharmacy named Michael Jackson for not paying his bill which amounted to $101,926.66.  That’s a lot of aspirin.