“No! The next Anderson, yes. But he will not be the next Oprah.”

- Oprah Winfrey, responding to whether or not Anderson Cooper’s daytime talkshow will make him the next Oprah Winfrey, during a Q&A session about the OWN Network yesterday.

In print this looks pretty snotty on Oprah’s part. Well, snotty in the way that only Oprah Winfrey can get away with being because she’s otherwise the closest living thing to Christ on our planet. The heir of, “No one will ever replace me, not even the guy who saved that Haitian boy and is also a closeted homosexual.”

I’m going to go ahead and assume that she means that everyone’s such a special snowflake that Anderson Cooper could never replace her because he’s too uniquely him to be anyone but himself.

Is it because of crack or because of her vagina?  Get it, because women can’t drive?  We are inferior in certain ways. Ha.

But really, I’m thinking it’s the crack.  I’m not even suggesting that she’s back to her wacky crackhead ways, I’m just saying that spending so many years gobbling up meth, chasing it with vodka, and making out with Paris Hilton might throw off your depth perception a bit.  And that’s not Lindsay’s fault.  Clearly someone needs to give this poor girl a bigger garage, am I right?

Oh, newly sober Lindsay, how I wanted to believe in you.  How I longed for a Parent Trap sequel. Alas, alas.

Ashton Kutcher has apparently read Our Bodies, Ourselves one too many times. [The Superficial]

Guess which famous actress was blind in one eye up until recently. [The Superficial]

Kendall Jenner’s new, more age-appropriate, fashion shoot. Sort of. [TooFab]

Charlie Sheen is on another bender of epic proportions – and it’s not expected to end well. [TMZ]

Olivia Munn’s head looks like it got some kind of weird surgery, but I’m too fatigued from looking at her massive bush to figure out what. [Amy Grindhouse]

Scarlett Johansson is about to embark on a long rebound tour of hot dudes. You just watch. [Celebitchy]

Just when I thought that the last of the Wizard of Oz munchkins had gained their last iota of under-deserved fame, Nicole Polizzi, affectionately known as ‘Snooki’ in dirty New Jersey clubs that stink of stale sweat, Axe body spray, and that funk-fungus stink that you get when you lay in a tanning bed for more than the prescribed max of fifteen minutes, has gone and snatched another fifteen minutes of fame by writing a book and dressing like Liza Minelli in drag in drag in drag. In drag.

In drag.

And man. Are those her legs, or am I having another one of those crazy ham deficiency attacks again where all I’m seeing is luscious hocks of swine everywhere I look?

GET THE HOT HONEY MUSTARD OUT … NOM NOM NOM BITCHES.

Ah celebrities and their inseparable Twitter accounts. I actually kind of hate Twitter, myself. I think it’s the height of narcissism, which is probably why so many celebrities dig it so much that they can’t go ten minutes without an update (‘Chopping broccoli.’ ‘Eating broccoli.’ ‘Oh man, broccoli was a bad idea, guys’). Thanks for that.

But luckily for us, once a tweet is out there, no amount of deleting and clearing of caches will allow us to un-see it – hence nude photos, scary kabuki-like makeup-free faces, and generally stupid comments that just can’t be taken back.

Here we have Sarah Silverman, one of my least favorite celebrities, showing off her own brand of piss-and-shit humor, talking about menstruation:

And then we have Tyrese, who comes across like he’s never been on a date with a girl in his life:

And finally, Tom Green. I’ll leave it at that.

Let me break it down here: Sarah? You’re not funny. OK, OK – that particular tweet was. But the rest of them? Really kind of suck. Tyrese – I FART. Incidentally, and on a related note, I SHIT, TOO. What you know about that, boyfriend? And Tom Green. Damn, dude. … Wait, Tom who?

Weigh in on the comments as to who you’re amused by on a daily basis – if, you know, you’re a loser like me who follows celebrities on Twitter – and get your favorites featured on Celebrity Tweet of the Day!

And come on, show of hands: who, like me, thought that Owen Wilson was still stuck in a seedy two-room apartment somewhere in LA, lamenting his days of better roles than those starring alongside Reese Witherspoon in crappy rom-coms, and all crazy, unshaven, and unstable?

However, unless he broke out of his emotional fugue long enough to impregnate a woman that I have never heard of just to retreat back to said bedbug-infested hovel, we are mistaken - Wilson, who has been dating Jade Duell for a year, has paid his rep to announce that the couple is having a child. Like, probably this week sometime.  It’s supposedly happening this fast.

So wow. OK.  Owen Wilson, a dad. It’s cool, I suppose I can get with it. I mean, it definitely beats the hell out of being all crazy and suicidal, you know? Plus, he didn’t get his nose fixed. And I think that counts for, like, everything.