I’m two weeks away from launching my web opus: USofAnderson.com—hence my recent hiatus from the blogging world.

It’s a project that has consumed me like a room full of puppies, vicious puppies gnawing my ankles like KFC chicken wings, for nearly three years.

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I was in the TC this past weekend to attend the Upper Midwest Emmy Awards (the Redemption Party videos I produced last year were nominated in a promotions category) and to visit Dad who, God willing, will be starting his second round of chemo at Abbott Northwestern Hospital this week (the peach-fuzzed monk is upbeat and ready to go to battle).

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My father turned 65 on Saturday, and sadly I wasn’t home in the 'Sota for the big shebang. On the blessed day, he grilled some burgers; drank a brandy Manhattan; and took Uncle Howdy, Aunt Barb (his sister), and his father for a ride through some Wisconsin wilderness on his John Deere four-wheelin’ Gator. No shame in keeping it simple.

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Bloggers love to apologize for long hiatuses between posts. The posts often start out with the gripping lead: “Sorry it’s been sooooooooo long since I put anything up here. But life has been CRAZY! Sooooooooo much to catch up on . . .”

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Reuters had a good article early last week on how the economic downturn/recession/OMG-I-have-no-money-no-heath-care-no-new-Tweets depression has caused Wall Street to back out of billions of dollars worth of film deals.

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Last spring, Hulk Hogan was proclaimed dead to LA Log. LA Log would now like to retract such a death notice and apologize to the fallen wrestler for any perceived postmortem fallout.

Pourquoi? Pourquoi?

It has come to the attention of LA Log that Hulk Hogan is part of what could be one of the most shameless, money-grubbing celebrity shenanigans known to man. It reeks so bad of desperation and narcissism that LA Log thinks it’s totally cool and totally what American needs right now!

It’s LiveAutographs.com and for the base price of $149 a fan can see his or her star sign an item (poster, figurine, clothing) and then receive a customized video clip of the signing with a personal message from the star. The sky’s the limit—you can ask a question or have the star read a personal message written by you! William Shatner and his partners launched the site in late August, assembling quite a cadre of celebs to do the signing, including: “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Serena Williams, Carmen Electra, Danica Patrick, nearly the entire cast of Lost, and of course The Hulk.

With each celeb comes a personal item to be signed. The base price gets an autograph on a poster or head shot, but, if you pony up $349 for the Hulk, he will sign a replica yellow wrestling boot. $449 and you’ll have a replica WWF wrestling belt.

And you thought we had bad economic times!

According to a Reuters story on this revolutionary concept, a three-year FBI and IRS probe found that “more than 50 percent, and perhaps as much as 90 percent, of items comprising the overall $1 billion U.S. memorabilia market in 2000 were fake.”

It’s refreshing to see such a website like LiveAutographs.com working so hard to right this terrible wrong.

And let us not forget that the Hulk Hogan is there, at the beginning of this altruistic technology, forging ahead so all Americans can enjoy an abundant supply of authentic John Hancocks and sweet memorabilia to hang inside their foreclosed home or cardboard box.

The Los Angeles Times printed a story last week claiming they had obtained FBI records in which a confidential informant implicates the rapper Sean “Diddy” Combs in the shooting of rapper Tupac Shakur in 1994. The unsolved shooting started a feud in the hip-hop world that ultimately lead to the death of Notorious B.I.G. and Shakur.

Yesterday, the LA Times printed an apology and retraction, acknowledging that these FBI documents were forgeries produced by a con man in prison. It was the The Smoking Gun that initially called out the Times on its piss-poor reporting and forced the investigation.

The unsolved murders of Shakur and Notorious B.I.G. are still big news in SoCal, and these “FBI records” that surfaced last week had the town talking again about Suge Knight, the infamous Death Row Records CEO, and a variety of conspiracy theories. My favorite: Bubbles, Michael Jackson’s former monkey, the triggerman.

The story counted more than a million hits on the LA Times website, breaking its previous record. So, what appeared to be a good thing for the paper has turned into a Dan Rather nightmare. And in some twisted irony for the paper, its mistake was initially called out by a salacious, celebrity-mug shot website.

Reading the apology in the paper, it’s quite clear this was a major blunder. The FBI docs were typed on a typewriter—supposedly the FBI stopped using typewriters on such docs thirty years ago. There were misspellings and redactions in the doc that should have raised concern about the authenticity. And most alarming, these docs could not be found in an FBI database.

The reporter, Chuck Phillips, is a good, Pulitzer-winning reporter who took six months to write the story, so how on earth could this have happened? It took The Smoking Gun less than ten days to blow the whole thing open.

More than anything, I think the Los Angeles Times wanted it to be true. The Times knew this was the kind of story that people who don’t read newspapers seek out—just look at the web numbers. In an age of diminishing audiences, all media is seeking that thing, that Oprah, which will defragment our population. This obsession coupled with the fact that the reporter was supposedly not well informed on the complexities of the hip-hop world make for dangerous water.

I’m sure the paper will recover, and I’m willing to bet the Letter of Apology will break more web records. The real problem now for the Los Angeles Times is not journalist integrity, it’s P Diddy’s revenge.

Almost a year ago, a story ran in the LA Times about Cory Kennedy, a Santa Monica teenager who became an overnight Internet celebrity sensation—an Internet “it girl”—with fan sites across the globe and photo spreads in Nylon magazine. She accomplished all of this by attending the right parties and having a unique look. The LA Times article played up the fact that Cory achieved her stardom without her parents’ knowledge. And she did it with the help of party scenester and photographer The Cobrasnake—who, despite being considerably older, became her boyfriend. He’d post photos of her on his website, and his hits, especially from the fashion world, soared. Her star was born.

When the LA Times story hit, Kennedy had already been riding the celebrity wave for approximately a year. I thought about blogging about her, her strange form of celebrity, her bizarre Good Charlotte music video, her upcoming magazine spreads, etc. But ultimately, I figured she was a just a flash in the pan of Internet stardom. In a few months, she’d be gone, and we’d be on to other Internet sensations, such as Minnesota’s own Chocolate Rain.

Obviously, I don’t understand Internet celebrity. Last week, a pair of Red Bull and Vodka-stained socks that she wore to her seventeenth birthday sold on eBay for $46.

And even though she’s now broken up with The Cobrasnake, her career appears to be flourishing with a growing blog, fashion tours across the globe, and a modeling career.

This is the new face of celebrity: Do NOT do anything or bother with talent or skill. Just come on down to LA, hit the right parties, look attractive—yet unique—in photos, and allow the Internet to grow your fame. It’s easy.

Here are some of The Cobrasnake’s Flickr photos of Kennedy, so you can study up on how to “look.” She definitely has a look.