Paris back to jail, is a weeper.

I'd really like to say that I'm above all this Paris crap but the truth is I've been chasing after this story like a 2-year-old chases a cat. Not Nigel, of course, because any kid that chases Nigel quickly receives a bare-clawed, "flashing fur" style kung-fu, pain-induced lesson about chasing cats. I've seen it happen. It haunts my dreams.

So Paris is headed back to jail. I, for one, am happy as hell about it. I did a little happy dance in my cube at work when I heard the news. The Running Man followed by a quick Swim, if you must know.

Did she commit any grievous crime aside from being a drippy, self-involved, walking waste of space? Not really, but what she did was even worse. The lesson here is not to screw with the law. Screw other people (Paris isn't even that good at that, I've seen the tape), screw yourself (haven't seen that tape but sign me up!), really whatever you want to screw is perfectly okay but leave the law out of it. Martha learned her lesson, suck it up and learn yours Paris.

I am please to announce that inherited wealth does not always buy you a get out of jail card, although it can buy you a driver. Maybe you should try that next time, Paris. For now, use your mega-bux to buy an industrial-sized box of prison approved tissues because you'll need them over the next 40 days.