Hello, Earth to Stars: Twinkle, People, Twinkle!

In a recent episode of the HBO series "Entourage," Vincent Chase, the young actor whose career is sliding into the has-been zone, turns to his foul-mouthed but savvy agent Ari Gold and asks for some straight talk. Does Ari think he's a good actor? The agent considers the question far too naive to even address. He didn't sign the dark-haired heartthrob because he thought Vincent could act, Ari says. He signed him because he thought Vincent was a movie star. And if Vincent wants to get his career back on track, he better start acting like one.

Ari speaks the truth in this post-Britney era. It's time for entertainers to start acting like stars -- who care about their image, dignity and reputation -- and not like contestants on "I Want to Work for Diddy," who engage in humiliating behavior just because there's an audience for it. Fame has been diluted and devalued. It has ceased to dazzle now that we know that pretty much every Omarosa in America can get at least 15 seconds of it just by having a bad attitude and breast augmentation.

There is a difference between stardom and fame. The former is glamorous, enviable and mythical. The latter means being in a featured video on YouTube. We've had enough of entertainers who confuse the two. We have watched them wail and rant like toddlers as they are hauled off to jail. They have jumped on couches like lovesick adolescents and stumbled through the streets like wasted coeds leaving a kegger.

Their earnestness has become a cliche. They have rallied for New Orleans, Darfur, Malawi, Haiti and circus elephants. They have adopted all nationalities of stray infants. And they have discussed their pregnancies, birthing techniques and postpartum aftermath in the kind of reverential soberness that should be reserved for the Virgin Birth.

We thought we wanted to know that celebrities have the same tribulations as regular people. But the truth is that our own troubles are enough. Wall Street is melting down. The rest of the world is not keen on anything that we've done lately. And moose-hunting has entered the political dialogue. Misery doesn't want company; it wants a distraction.

The world is going to pot and it would be nice if celebrities would go back to doing what they're paid to do: Sweep us up into a glossy fantasy that diverts our attention, at least momentarily, from our own woes.

When our TV friends walk the Emmy red carpet, we would appreciate it if they would keep any political commentary to themselves. We are sure they are well read, intelligent and wholly engaged in the political process. We appreciate that they will be casting a well-informed vote in November and will be encouraging their fans to do the same. But on this evening, we don't need your thoughts about our reliance on foreign oil, your opinion on whether there has been sexism or racism in the presidential campaign or whether or not Jesus was a community organizer. All we want to know is who's your date and who made your dress. Then shut up and smile.

The subject of pretty clothes brings us to "The Rachel Zoe Project," and the calling of its star to preserve, protect and defend movie star glamour. The show, which airs on Bravo, is one of the latest additions to reality television. The cameras follow celebrity stylist Zoe on her mission to dress actresses for their red-carpet appearances -- and their trips to Starbucks -- while also transforming herself into a brand.

It is easy to dislike Zoe. So much about her seems calculated, from the visible roots on her bed-head hair to her Nicole Kidman-ice-rink forehead to her vocabulary of catch phrases ranging from "I die!" to "Shut it down." Both phrases, by the way, are used to acknowledge that fabulousness has just been revealed.

Zoe is best known for inspiring a generation of celebutantes, most famously Nicole Richie, to re-create themselves in her likeness: a nouveau '70s style of draped frocks, giant sunglasses, tousled hair, gold jewelry and protruding collarbones. Zoe has been accused of sparking an epidemic of emaciation among her followers, but there has been no evidence that she ever threw her body between a client and a Ding Dong.

On her show, Zoe is a shamelessly conspicuous consumer, but she is also a bleeding heart on the subject of glamour. God bless her for it. She lives for glamour. She believes in its power to make all the hurt go away. Zoe aspires to make her clients look spectacular, and she is so breathless and exuberant on the subject that we almost believe her when she tells Joy Bryant that she looks so good in a red Zac Posen evening gown that she's about to cry. Zoe is like a golden-hued mother-of-the-bride -- proud and exhausted when her little lemmings march down the aisle and make the fashion "do" lists.

Zoe has been part of the mechanism of stardom for a while. Her job is to make heartthrobs, who may or may not be able to act, look like movie stars. But her timing for stepping out of the shadows could not have been better. It is reassuring to know that there are folks dedicated to keeping celebrities in line. Keeping them glamorous.

When Zoe puts the finishing touches on Bryant, finding just the right earrings and the perfect sparkly clutch, she sends her off to the red carpet. We can't tell you whether Bryant is a good actress. Can anyone other than her best friend recall her last film? ("Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins.") But we can tell you that she smiled prettily for the cameras. She kept her mouth shut. And as the cameras flashed, she looked like a star -- that fizzy, much-needed distraction from life's growing woes.