Aaron Rodgers Wants to Host 'SNL'; 2 a.m. Emails from the Boss Are Never Fun

Also: Sports Illustrated chooses model Kate Upton for the cover of the Swimsuit issue, a 2 a.m. all-staff email from the chairman of New Regency productions demands middle-of-the-night "proactivity" from his staff, and Steven Spielberg is fine with War Horse jokes.

Welcome to the Smart Set. Every morning, we bring you the gossip coverage filtered. Today: Also: Sports Illustrated chooses model Kate Upton for the cover of the Swimsuit issue, a 2 a.m. all-staff email from the chairman of New Regency productions demands middle-of-the-night "proactivity" from his staff, and Steven Spielberg is fine with War Horse jokes.

Steven Spielberg was apparently "the first to arrive" for this week's SNL after-party at Abe & Arthur's in the Meatpacking District, even though Jimmy Fallon and Andy Samberg did a skit making fun of War Horse, which isn't particularly funny, since that horse single-handedly won WWI for the Allies. There were no hard feelings from Spielberg, who was overheard "laughing and congratulating Samberg on the show." Green Bay Packers quarterback and newly-minted NFL MVP Aaron Rodgers was also at the party, for adorable and odd reasons. Rodgers "says he wants to host the NBC show," so apparently he's just going to be hanging out, Rupert Pupkin-style, waiting for someone to say, "Hey kid, we need you in the game." Zooey Deschanel, Jason Sudeikis and Olivia Wilde (avert your gaze!), and Seth Meyers were also in attendance.  [Page Six]

As expected, model Kate Upton is going to be gracing the cover of this year's Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue. The announcement was supposed to come last night on The Late Show with David Letterman, but the cover leaked early, which was unfortunate for Letterman who had gone through the trouble of orchestrating an elaborate, Bachelor-style rose ceremony for the ten finalists. Interestingly, today's New York Post refers to the 19-year-old Upton as "the former flame of Jets QB Mark Sanchez." Last week, The Post called her his "love interest." So it sounds like some things may have changed with those two. [New York Post]

Oh dear: a blistering, semi-coherent all-staff email sent in December at 2 a.m. by New Regency Productions chairman Arnon Milchen has gone public. Milchen begins the late-night correspondence by asking recipients for "the 3-5 best connections you have in the movie industry, that can move the needle and create added value beyond what Fox does." It goes on, "I’d like to be reassured that if I don’t sleep, you don’t sleep. I can afford not to – you cannot. I’m contemplating a major decision, and before I do that, I need your feedback." (Fox has distributed New Regency's films since 1989, and the production company is undergoing a major personnel overhaul, starting with the exit of co-chairmen Bob Harper and Hutch Parker back in August.) So what does he want? The usual things people want at 2.am.: "I expect caring, pro-activity, creativity and thinking outside the box with tangible results," he explains. Before long, that's become a "need for accountability and responsibility.  Anything less doesn’t work for me." In case staffers assumed this was just a pep talk, he added: "This is not pep talk – this is serious. I’m just now finishing my day job at 2am, which are my regular working hours because of the time difference. I expect resolutions by the end of next week." The lesson, as always: don't demand results after 10 p.m. [The Hollywood Reporter]

This is horrifying, especially during Fashion Week: two men, claiming to be in the employ of New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, tried to talk their way into the Charlotte Ronson and Richie Rich shows on Friday. The two men, who were wearing "fake pins" and "offered to dish out an unknown herbal remedy into gift bags," explaining "This is a gift from the governor. He'll be here later." The ruse didn't work, and the men were denied entry, and widely ridiculed. It was like a David Mamet movie, but for real, and during Fashion Week. [Page Six]

P. Diddy was briefly hospitalized early Monday morning with "an extreme migraine." Per TMZ, Diddy "hosted a post-Grammy party at the Playboy Mansion Sunday night" and then "went home and got a massive headache." That sounds remarkably like a hangover, but Diddy's entourage -- not wanting to take any chances -- rushed him to the emergency room at UCLA, where celebrity headache specialists are on-call round-the-clock. Diddy's since returned home and is apparently feeling much better. A source close to Diddy informs TMZ that "the migraine was unrelated to anything that went down at the Mansion," which is somewhat troubling, since it leaves open the possibility that Diddy was hit in the head with a meteorite, and could soon be flashing telekinetic powers and convincing residents of sleepy small towns that what they've been looking for has been right in front of them all along. Or, he could just have a hangover. [TMZ]

Also in Playboyland Sunday night: Hugh Hefner's 21-year-old son Marston was arrested in Pasadena for allegedly assaulting Playmate Claire Sinclair. According to police, her injuries were "minor," while Hefner was charged with battery on a spouse (though they're not married, just cohabitating) and released several hours later after posting $20,000 bail. [E Online]

Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal was spotted out dining with his wife  at New Heights in D.C. Friday night along with five other couples. Mrs. Jindal "had a glass of Cabernet with her fish entrée," but the governor, no doubt aware that he'd be speaking at CPAC the next day "paired his duck confit with a Diet Coke." [The Reliable Source]

South Philadelphia institution Geno's Steaks -- the one that's across the street from the equally famous, but much better cheesesteak shop Pat's -- isn't going anywhere, despite rumors in the Philadelphia gossip columns that owner Geno Vento wants to sell. He says he doesn't. [Philadelphia Daily News]

And finally, it's Michael Bloomberg's 70th birthday today. Happy birthday, Mayor Bloomberg. We'd suggest a nice, fun evening of gobbling transfats and honking your car horn. [The Wall Street Journal]