If you're like most Americans, you've already let Courtney Cox's Dirt fall off your radar. Sure, former Friend Jennifer Aniston might be popping in for the season finale, but why waste your time with plotlines, character development, and the episodic filler during the weeks leading up to the finale when you can catch what you need to know on YouTube, anyhow?

Nonetheless, we're moving forward with our mission to deliver high-brow critiques from those with insider gossip rag knowledge. Unfortunately we only have delivery from one of our tabloid twosome, but it's plenty. The full report from Tabloider No. 1, after the jump — with ruminations on libel lawyers, publicists who deliver press releases in person, and a subject close to home for Ms. Aniston.

Says Tabloider No. 1:

That’s what friends are for — that is, friends with a capital F. This week brought the news that Courteney Cox’s BFF Jennifer Aniston has enlisted her best pal’s war against the tabloids otherwise known as Dirt. She’ll be playing an enemy, though — a rival tabloid editor out for Courteney/Lucy’s job.

While we wait in suspense for the small-screen equivalent of a Bonnie Fuller vs. Janice Min showdown (the Friends reunion won’t happen for a few more weeks), we must find other ways to amuse ourselves in Dirt and its increasingly ludicrous depiction of life at a celebrity tabloid.

And this week as usual did not disappoint: The highlight for me was the ideas meeting, where she inspired her staff by showing them a video of marauding sharks, and we met “Cosmo the pitch ball” — a toy that looked like the decapitated head of Bozo the clown. She’d toss it around the room to those brave enough to pitch a story — you’re not allowed to talk unless you’re holding the ball. I’ve gotta get one of those.

Guess poor Lucy was pretty desperate for any inspiration, given that last week’s brainstorm of combining her two magazines (one glossy, one tabloid) into a glossy tabloid (get it?) was given just one week to prove itself — and, as Lucy kept shouting, “My wall is blank!”

Well, there was that one cover story she wanted to run accusing someone of murder, but her mean ogre of a publisher wouldn’t let her publish it for some silly reason. What’s wrong with a little libel? Gee, I just can’t understand why her “I sourced it myself” excuse wasn’t enough to get it into print. Pesky lawyers.

Disappointed by her staff once again, it’s her intrepid schizo paparazzo who comes to her rescue… by cutting off his finger to get access to a private hospital room. (“We’ll cover medical expenses,” Lucy promises.) Presented at last with her dream cover story, she murmurs, “I think I just came a little.”

I think I just puked a little.

It’s not just the groan-worthy dialogue or the never-gonna-happen scenarios (a publicist delivering a press release in person?) that keeps me reeling week after week. While Lucy may have avoided a libel suit for now, she’s been racking up the invasion of privacy and trespassing claims. Sorry, Courteney — you can’t publish photos taken on private property. Just ask Jen.