Mercury - Sweat-soaked "Hi, I'm Britney Spears. You might have noticed that I topped Fortune magazine's recent list of the wealthiest and most popular stars, so it makes sense that I should top the galaxy this week. This also means that all you haters out there who thought I'd burn out and fade away like Debbie Gibson 2000 will now have to admit that I am here to stay. Or, at least, here to linger. Yes, it's true that my popularity may be in jeopardy of late, given my now-habitual fan-snubbings, the fact that I got booed at a recent appearance, none of the scheduled stars showed up to my restaurant opening, and I haven't had a truly catchy single since 'Oops, I Did It Again.' But at least I can now rest assured that, in the great airliner of celebrity posterity, I'm no longer seated in the flash-in-the-pan coach section with Tiffany, Kriss Kross, and internet cafés. I've now been bumped up to the Bemusingly Persistent Phenomena section, right next to Duran Duran, Paula Abdul, and really, really baggy shorts for teens."

Venus - Sweat-stained
"Hi, I'm R. Kelly. Let's not talk about my ongoing trial on child pornography charges. It wasn't me in that videotape. And the person who's already settled three statutory rape suits? Also not me. Nor is it me in those other tapes that have surfaced. But it is me, however, who released a new single titled, 'Heaven, I Need A Hug.' No, seriously, that's the title. Because Heaven, I really do. Need a hug, I mean. A big, long hug. But not from a thirteen-year-old girl. That's not what I'm talking about, or picturing in my mind while I sing. That's some other guy."

Earth - Sweaty
"Hi, I'm Steven Spielberg. So, you thought after Amistad and A.I. that I'd lost my touch? Thought I couldn't make a fun, frantic, chart-topping movie for the summer? Well, guess again, because I'm back on top! Or, at least, back on Earth, two spots from the top -- and given what R. Kelly did to move ahead of me, I'm just fine where I am, thanks. Looks like old Stevie has the talk-about sci-fi film of the summer, while Attack of the Clones got trounced by Spider-Man. Not that I'm competitive. But George, you have my number if you want a real director to salvage your series. You know where to find me -- about five planets ahead of you, fly boy."

Mars - Shiny
"Hi, I'm Cindy Crawford. You may remember me from such ad campaigns as Revlon, and such celebrity marriages as Richard Gere and that other guy I'm with now. Well, let me tell you about my next exciting adventure. I want to be shot into space! That's why I've told the Russian government that I'd be happy to be the first star to go along on a space mission. After all, I conquered the catwalk, so how hard can the space walk be? And who would make a better ambassador for Earth, should we run into some alien species -- me, or that scrawny kid from 'N Sync? So that's why I feel that I should be the first -- what? It's okay? I don't have to convince you? You actually want me to be shot into space? Thank you, America! Thank you!"

Jupiter - Glistening
"Hi, I'm Natalie Portman. In case you missed my comments in a recent interview, I'd just like to reiterate that I have considered, and am open to pursuing, a relationship with a woman. I mean, if that's who you fall in love with, then why not? Why cut yourself off from fifty percent of the population? So, yes, it's true -- I've often thought about what it would be like to kiss and caress and get naked with another woman. I thought it was important to make this information public, so that my Star Wars fans can step up their masturbation schedules accordingly."

Saturn - Moist
"Hi, I'm Michael Ovitz, disgraced Hollywood mogul. Not disgraced because my recent, put-me-back-on-top management venture has tanked. Rather, disgraced because I recently pinned the blame for it not on me, or any of my associates, but on Hollywood's notorious 'Gay Mafia.' That's right -- it was the Gay Mafia that did me in! As I reportedly told Vanity Fair, there are five or six powerful men out there -- most of whom are gay -- who conspired against me. 'They wanted to kill Michael Ovitz,' I said. (That's me, by the way.) So I'm warning all of you out there -- don't let this happen to you! Apparently, gays have a real grudge against arrogant pricks who throw their weight around, threaten their underlings, intimidate their own clients, bungle cushy jobs at Disney, get ousted, take over flailing theatrical companies, watch them collapse, then start ill-conceived management agencies only to have them flop spectacularly. Damn you, gays!"

Uranus - Dry
"Dear Miss Manners: I'm Angelina Jolie. I'm writing to you on behalf of a friend of mine, who's having marital troubles. A split seems imminent. My question is this: If my friend received, say, a necklace with a vial of her husband's blood hanging from it, is she now required to return it? And if she, for example, gave him a similar blood-filled vial, is he obliged to give it back to her? Can she demand that he return it, or at least agree that both vials be forwarded to a blood bank, or given to a really tiny man in need of an infusion? What's the etiquette on the swapping of blood-filled vials? Please respond, for my friend is desperate for guidance in this matter."

Neptune - Flaking
"Hi, I'm George Lucas. Don't hold your breath, Spielberg. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve to lure back the kids. Oh, and Natalie? I want to talk to you about exploring a new plot line for the next film, involving you and a seductive lady-in-waiting from the royal court of Naboo. In fact, I'm thinking of changing the new film's name to Star Wars: Episode III - Amidala on the Planet Nabooty."

Pluto - Cracked
"Hi, I'm Rosemary Clooney. Sadly, this evening there will be no encore. Thank you, and good night."