Isaac Hanson (from Hanson) went under the knife to remove a potentially deadly blood clot from his lungs.

Wow. I haven’t heard about him since I knew what “MmmBop” meant.

It’s good to hear his lungs are all spiffy. The last thing we need is another sob story about some star whose 15 minutes were up 10 years ago.

Seriously, “15 minutes of fame” is in dire need of an addendum reading, “Or until your life’s story signs our paychecks again by doing something deadly, stupid, sad or otherwise deemed newsworthy by we, the media.”

The constant ins and outs of Twinkle-Town are giving me a splitting headache. To be a good consumer, do I really have to care about the eldest of the Hanson clan again, or can I just pretend I care until someone else develops some foreign-sounding illness with eleventeen syllables ending in -itis?

No offense, Ike, but I’m rooting for the latter.

I’m not trying to be insensitive, but why do celebrities get to take another turn in the fame game just because tragedy or misfortune strikes? Can’t we just milk the cash cows they call careers until they go sour and move on to something shiny and new?

Most celebrity “OMG, did you hear?!” stories have the shelf lives of a dairy product. By the time the third or fourth development on Isaac’s lungs rolls in, the story will have started to “curdle,” shall we say, and best be tossed off into the bin with all of Oprah’s weight issues and Hugh Grant’s penchants for “ladies of the night.”

Or, they could be sent to the David Hasselhoff Wall of Wack. Last I heard, the king of Speedos and German ballads was consulting doctors after briefly falling victim to his buddy, Mr. Bottle.

I’m going to be insensitive again. Since when is alcoholism only for celebrities? It’s like saying gravity’s “now for everyone!” And how many times must we go over that the only reason “Baywatch” was so popular was because … oh, you already know why.

Will someone please enlighten me on why I’m being fed this pointless crap from smarty-farty “media insiders”?

Maybe part of the reason is that “Baywatch” re-runs are just so darn popular! I mean, Pamela Anderson is hooking up with Rick Salmon, Solomon, something. You know, the guy who profited off his private sex tape with Paris Hilton. I can see their meeting now: “Oh, hey, I loved your sex tape!” “Hey! Right back at ya!”

Their partnership is the AOL-Time-Warner of sex tape conglomerates. The two heavy-hitters of the sex-tape industry have finally inked a deal. A match made in skeeze heaven.

So, this news is supposed to make me do what? Bite my unmanicured nails in anticipation for the next addition to the “Bootleg Bedroom” series? Or, keep myself up at night, waiting for little Pammys and Ricks to start running around, tackying up the world?

Let’s just say I haven’t put child protection blocks on my OnDemand just yet. (They’d be for me, by the way.)

Since we are giving free publicity to any celeb with a story to tug at our heartstrings, why doesn’t VH1 bring back “Behind the Music”?

At least it’d have a time limit.