Follieri's story is different, really, because while the other rich actress- and model-dating horndogs find themselves in hot water for whoring and partying, Follieri's facing jail time for pretending to be the most pious motherfucker in New York. He boasted of imaginary connections to the Catholic Church to scam money from investors that he needed to keep up his lifestyle of being a the perfect wealthy, charitable Catholic.

As the Church faced fallout from the child abuse scandal, Follieri stepped up to help them unload their real estate properties and convert them into morally agreeable businesses. He hired the nephew of of the Vatican's secretary of state and went around claiming to be a "representative for the Vatican." But Follieri's only real connection to the church was a guy who could arrange to get him a tour of the garden every now and then. But the scam worked! Thanks, as always, to how easily duped the self-righteous rich can be.

While his love life with Anne was flourishing, in 2005 Raffaello found his most high-profile partners for the Follieri Group yet. That year, he became friends with Doug Band, a young aide to former President Bill Clinton. Doug, who was often seen cavorting with Raffaello in Manhattan restaurants like Nobu and Cipriani, served as a matchmaker. He introduced Raffaello to a Canadian real estate developer named Michael Cooper, a meeting for which Raffaello paid $400,000. More importantly, Doug introduced him to Bill Clinton and his close personal friends, including supermarket magnate and billionaire Ron Burkle. In April 2005, Ron formed a joint venture with Raffaello, called Follieri/Yucaipa Investments, to develop unused Catholic properties. Ron pledged $105 million to help his new business partner in this pursuit. One year later, Raffaello made his own significant donation, pledging $1 million to the Clinton Global Initiative, a charity founded by the former president. This move gave Raffaello a chance to spend more time with one of the most influential men in the world, and he seized the opportunity to vacation with Clinton in Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. In a picture taken at that time, Raffaello has his arm draped around Bill Clinton on one side and Anne Hathaway on the other. Everyone is smiling for the camera. ­Raffaello seemed to have it all: fame, success, money, friendship, the perfect girl.

Doug Band! You may remember him as Bill Clinton's guy Friday, who has a terrible habit of introducing the former president to complete scumbags and then also failing to keep Bill's own behavior in check.

By 2007, Burkle was suing Follieri for misappropriation of that million dollars. Because Follieri used it to pay for his penthouse and his lavish lifestyle, which he needed to keep up appearances as a successful friend of the Vatican. It really all would've been easier if he'd actually just made connections at the Vatican and managed real estate for them for real, right? But the one time they tried to do this, with a church in Philadelphia, it burned down and they sold it for no profit.

But once the Burkle suit was settled and the jet company sued him and the NYPD arrested him for bouncing a check and the PR company sued him and his foundation's only employee quit AND it became apparent that Andrew Cuomo was going to indict him, you would think actress Anne Hathaway would've given up on him? Or that he would've given up on his scam? Not so much.

So yes, it was an audacious and impressive lie that he lived, but it looks for all the world like he actually bought into it himself.

[via EV Grieve]

She continues:

It's going up to $81 now. The subway is the easiest and cheapest way to get around. And unfortunately it's the only way during rush hour. I am in favor of the congestion tax, though. People who live and work here all year round should get some sort of exemption sticker and driving visitors should be taxed. Traffic is getting out of control.

The lady says: "If it is true, the news of Brooke Astor's son being indicted for mishandling his mother's fortune is disgraceful. As an heiress, I think the most important thing is to maintain respect for the legacy that has afforded a wonderful life." Do tell!

She continues: "To invite unfavorable attention is the ultimate betrayal to the name, and it's surprising that anyone from a family with those means might misuse a loved one's money or sully a grand reputation."

Someday, we imagine, Lydia's mom might want to sit her down and have a candid talk about that little Symbionese Liberation Army kerfuffle.

Of twenty-one people, only three turned out to be pill-poppers: one was on Prozac and the other two took Wellbutrin. Everyone else was either miraculously straightedge or lying. A sample of the straightedge/liars' responses:

"No, but [an ex] thinks I should be."

"I am not, maybe I should be?"

"Ha, no, I'm a purist!"

"No happy pills for me, I'm all natural."

"Never tried them."

"Just pot and booze, but I don't think they count."

"Weed is my nonprescription nonlegal antianxiety solution of choice."

Atoosa watched the film 'Million Dollar Baby,' "At the end, Hilary Swank is on resuscitators and asking them to unplug her. She was like, I don't need to live anymore. Everything I wanted to accomplish, I've already accomplished," Atoosa says. "And I sort of felt like that. All my energy had been going toward work and not my home life. It just wasn't fun anymore."

Soon after that, her husband (whom she'd met at party in 1995) had a really lucrative day at work. "He said to me, 'You know, you don't have to do this.' Because I was so unhappy at my job." That clinched it for her.

"I sit down and I write what I'm thinking and what I feel—it happens all at once, I never stop writing. Probably when I go home tonight, I'm going to open my computer and just start typing... I always envision myself being a Hemingway type—sitting in a dark corner with my glass of, I guess it would be, my glass of tequila and lime juice— that's how I do it."

"I don't smoke, but people say that you get secondhand smoke. But this is a country that was founded mainly on the tobacco industry—tobacco and coffee. It's so surprising that they are now essentially making cigarettes illegal, when that is where the whole country came from."

Factory 2.0 is a place where "people can have creative outbursts." An example of such a creative outburst, according to Hearst:"we held an impromptu Halloween party (I dressed as a cavegirl) and got tattoos."

It's kind of like Damien Hirst meets Piero Manzoni meets, uh, the Geico guy? That's also like precisely what normal people call getting wasted and doing something dumb! But whatever, everyone's got their 15 minutes, right?

Then there's this here horrifying image of Kathy Hilton (with wee Paris) from a fashion show in 1987; it accompanies an article about Jerry Oppenheimer's new book, House of Hilton, which, among other things, details how Mother Hilton came to be the evil womb responsible for so much hate in this world. Kathy's father is a mere housepainter; as a young climber, she had a tryst with a member of the Jackson 5 (oh, please let it be Tito) when she was 16; and, best of all, Kathy's mother (Paris' grandmother) wanted to make sure her daughter "had all the tools" to land herself a rich husband like Rick Hilton, so she enrolled Kathy in "sex lessons" that were taught by a man in a van in front of their house.

All of which almost explains Paris Hilton. Almost.

Earlier: Page Six: The Magazine: The Return

That first issue of the mag, which feels like it came out about 7 years ago, was edited by alleged extortionist Jared Paul Stern; clearly that wasn't going to work anymore, so Page Six editor Richard Johnson had to oversee the operation and answer to Post executive editor Steve Cuozzo (both of whom were no doubt thrilled with the extra responsibility). Calls to Rubenstein PR confirmed not much more than this; no word on ad pages, staff, etc. Just 94 pages of strangely hush hush gloss. So, uh, it's coming, but it's kind of tip-toeing.

After the jump, full front page image, complete with the rest of Kirsten Dunst's disturbingly busted breasts and exciting, alliterative headlines about fall fashion and sexy socialites. It's just brimming with juicy torpor!

Update: Someone's saying Mackenzie Dawson is editing...anyone know anything more? Not like we can't wait till, you know, tomorrow to find out.

And when it comes to advertising in a crowded field and a tough business environment, the Page Six magazine may have an edge — about one-third of the more than 30 advertisers in the first issue received positive mentions in the columns of Page Six in the last year.

Good to know. If we can switch gears for a moment and talk media advice, we'd suggest buying a full-page ad for Level Four protection.

Page Six, the Magazine, Is Returning (With an Edge, of Sorts) [NYT]

As of right now, the project is a one-off helmed by veteran gossipmonger Jared Paul Stern — who, when not designing "prep-punk" leisurewear, currently edits the Post's Sunday books section and occasionally tosses his fedora in the traditional Page Six ring. Jared, whose wit has been tragically muzzled by the fine folks at Rubenstein PR, couldn't comment. Flackery-scion Steven Rubenstein's official statement: "They're exploring the idea, but it's not definite." Right-o, then.

So what can we expect? Think Radar-level listicles, as this mag is not about breaking news (which would be pointless, with a daily column and whatnot). And, if it makes so much as 50 cents profit for the Post, expect it to become a regular fixture.