Hey! No Fair!

TMZ.com informs us via CNN that the Heiress They Call Paris has neither slept (GASP!) nor eaten (SWOON!) since her admission to the crazy folks end of a Los Angeles jail. This does not bother us. We would suggest that normal weekend behavior for the Pantiless Princess includes shaving her noni, spraying on a tan, and avoiding anything resembling a solid calorie.

Again - just speculating here - but isn't it entirely probable that she who put the "Tit" in Entitlement has spent most weekends wide awake? The only difference between those weekends and this one is the thread count of the sheets she's not sleeping on. Poor baby is evidently beyond distraught. This, too, does not bother us.

But we cried an audible "FOUL!" when we learned that she is getting "psychoactive" pills to help her pass the time in the joint. For you newbies - that's the good stuff. That's the stuff that will turn your world on with a smile. It can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile. You feel like love is all around, why not just take it? No need to fake it! Psychoactive drugs convince you that... well... darn it... You're gonna make it, after all. This development bothers us greatly.

We believe that psychoactive, feel-good remedies should be reserved for those moments where one is expected to be enjoying themselves. We made our list and checked it twice and are convinced that JAIL is not one of those places. This is like getting an open bar in your cell - only better. No need to bang your cup on the bars to get some surly lesbian to bring you ice or olives. Down the hatch - chew or swallow. Ten minutes, tops.... you're on the Riviera banging Fidel Castro and not in the psych ward of a Los Angeles jail.

Mostly, we don't like depleting the supply of psychoactive drugs that should be available for mediocre social encounters. And we detest the notion that this foul-mouthed, classless, poster child for retroactive abortion gets so much as a Tylenol to take the edge off her experience.

What we have here is a conspiracy to keep this child from learning anything ever. In a precious few years, she will be middle-aged, ocularly unbalanced and completely lacking inherent self-control. That, I suppose, would put her in line to be her mother.

Funny how quickly the Bush twins have moved up the Most Likely To Succeed ladder, isn't it?

Meanwhile, Back At The Hilton...

The Hilton, it appears, is booked.

No, she can't phone it in. No, she can't do a few lines of blow to take the edge off. No, she can't ride in the limo. No, she can't ride in the front seat and play with the siren. And, if there is any logic in the world, her mother cannot come to yell at the Little People this time around.

Having viewed the documents wherein the sentencing judge specifically forbade house arrest, early release, electronic monitoring, city-as-opposed-to-county jail, one wonders which of the Sheriff's Deputies Kathy Hilton, (W-POOP: Worst Parent On Our Planet), spread her canola-oiled thighs for to get her out of jail in the dead of night recently.

CNN holds out the prospect of said Sheriff being held in contempt-of-court for having released Hilton due to her general distaste for prison orange and a dermatological reaction to jail soap. We contend that any Sheriff - even in L.A. - who would take it upon himself to usurp the legal system in this way should not ONLY be held in contempt, but should find himself schlepping Louis Vuitton luggage at one of the lower-scale Hiltons in suburban L.A., forever banned from the Law Enforcement Profession.

This judge, on the other hand, has gone a long, long way toward restoring the integrity of the judicial system after what Judge Ito (O.J.: Not Guilty) perpetrated on the venerable profession. This is not at all about snubbing one's nose at a suspended driver's license citation. This is about privilege. If little Paris ends up anywhere but solitary confinement rotting in her own soiled panties (this presumes a previous lesson learned), minority communities across the West have every reason to re-Rodney King the joint.

Kudos to The Only President We Got for taking advantage of the media frenzy to announce the departure of the latest replacement architect of the Iraqi War. Without doubt, the man is stupid, but no one can accuse him of missing an opportunity when it's presented. Peter Pace will go by September with a healthy amount of blood on his hands and lies on his conscience. His book should hit the shelves by Christmas. He'll lay all blame for all his obfuscation before congress at the feet of Gee Dub, but at the end of the day, as Americans, we must stop using, "He told me to" as an excuse - even in military circles.

It's an invalid excuse for Paris Hilton. It's an invalid excuse for Peter Pace. And while these worlds could not seem further apart, the harmonic convergence of their fates couldn't prove a more valid point. If you did it, you own it.

In the spirit of Jerry Falwell, Don Wildmon and James Dobson, we would be remiss in not noting that all of the above flagrant violators of human decency and wisdom are heterosexual. What's good for the goose, they say....

Merriam Webster Alert: This Is Not House Arrest

Newsflash (as oppposed to pantiless flash): Paris Hilton spends barely over 48 hours in jail, gets credit for 5 days, will spend 40 days on "House Arrest". This is like characterizing the pampered ringers from The Apprentice as "under house arrest" inside Trump Tower's penthouse while filming his cancelled (did we say cancelled?) - we meant CANCELLED ratings toilet. She has a medical issue. She's allergic to jail. She also has flawed genes. The kind you get from your mother.

You should know that before Kathy Hilton spread her cocoa-buttered thighs for the Hilton hotel billions, she came in second place to Eve Plumb for the role of Jan Brady. If that doesn't explain everything, then I just can't help you here.

From Wikipedia: On May 4, 2007, she (Worst Parent On The Planet: W-POOP, Kathy Hilton) accompanied her daughter Paris Hilton to court for sentencing on a probation violation. When the city prosecutor commented that Paris deserved jail time, Kathy laughed. When the judge ruled, she then blurted out: "May I have your autograph?"

From People Magazine: "As the family was about to exit the courtroom, said Edwards, Kathy Hilton declared for all to hear, "[The judge] made up his mind before he even came in today. If it were anyone else, this would've never had happened." She (Mother Kathy) then exclaimed, "And after all the money we spent!"

From a statement read by Barbara Walters on The View: "Kathy Hilton wants young people to learn from her jail-bound daughter Paris..." Apparently, the W-POOP wants young people to learn that 2 days equals 5, that 40 days of House Arrest in a mansion where your 3,000-foot monitoring range barely takes you out of the kitchen, and that having your mother throw a hissy on your behalf - between swigs of Jug O' Wine - can all tilt justice in your favor.

Here is what Hilton House Arrest looks like - New York-style. The poor little girl with the brand new medical condition now has to stay within 3,000 feet of a phone jack in the WALDORF-ASTORIA HOTEL, which her daddy owns and her mommy put out to get. Paris was, in all likelihood, conceived within feet of where she will plug in her ankle bracelet to confirm that she is in one of the poshest hotels on the planet, not jail.

Its Web site calls it an "opulent suite of peerless elegance occupying the 28th-42nd floors of The Waldorf-Astoria" (which means the part regular rich folk can rent). Imagine the part the owners live in:

(HILTON HOUSE ARREST ---->)

This is where Mable, our town drunk, stays when she's on house arrest. See if you can spot the differences:

They say money can't buy you love. But it can buy you a husband, a hotel fortune, one hell of an enabling mommy, and a motherfucker of a house arrest.

Somebody just send these people to Iraq and bring back the people we wouldn't mind meeting on the street.

Pictures, Dammit!

This is, by our drug-addled calculation, day 3 of no hair products for one Ms. Paris (Don't Blame France) Hilton. We feel entitled to see what a gimpy-eyed troglodyte socialite looks like without spooge product in her hair.

And we know we're not alone. Someone on the inside of that festering cesspool of society's castoffs has a cellphone camera that they smuggled in with their poonaynay and we want to see this biotch at her livin' worst. We want the kneeling down, eating pussy, nappy headed, scrubbing toilets with her diamond-crusted toothbrush photo. And we will pay for it, too. Not a lot. But you're in friggin' prison! You think you have negotiating room? Please, Mary.

Nobody's even going to remember you ever lived once you're out of that joint. Just fork over the pic, we'll go away giddy and you can get back to giving head in the back of a conversion van in a major city's alleys. Or whatever white-collar crime you committed that landed you in the Hilton wing.

We also want this to be Radisson's new promotional flier. "Hilton? (pic of grotesque, cross-eyed Paris mumbling "Dass Hot" into some Negress's labia majora while scrubbing johns with her Tiffany toothbrush)." We Think Not. Radisson....where the heirs we put on don't end up in the joint."

We also want a pic of Kathy Hilton going on a hunger strike, just for good measure. We realize she's probably been on pure liquids since giving birth to this dual pox on humanity (if the reports of her Jug O' Wine fetish pan out), but still. Serves her right. Marry for money, expect nothing but trouble if you choose to procreate. (This rule does not apply to homosexuals who are welcome to marry -well, you know what we mean - but who will not accidentally procreate.)

We would also like to invite People Magazine, Us Weekly, The National Enquirer, Glamour, Cosmo, The Advocate, and Martha Stewart Living to have us over for a week each so we can guest-edit their Most Despicable Heterosexuals Of The Year Issue. I think this year is shaping up to be one son-of-a-bitch of a contest! Only if Lindsay Lohan actually does blow off that knife and then disembowels herself with same will this be a shoe-in year.

Stay tuned, my merry mo's. Mama's feelin' better, the fan is on, and the shit is about to fly! Happy Pride Month!