I really would like to look the other way on this one, but when I heard that Paris Hilton was being released from jail after serving three days of her twenty-three day sentence, I heard the loud and somewhat comical sound of a spring suddenly being released: Boing. Not to worry, we are told, she will be fitted with an electronic monitoring ankle bracelet and released to the comforts of her 2,700-square-foot Hollywood Hills home. That would mean that she was actually incarcerated for thirteen percent of her already diminished sentence. It also means that she traded up in terms of her ability to pace - she's got about fifty times the space to stalk wearily across her new "cell".
Doesn't seem fair, does it? It's not, so stop worrying about it. Money can't buy you love, but it can get you a whole passel of lawyers and a mess of other very keen benefits. I'm relatively certain that Sheriff Lee Baca was just as happy to be sending Ms. Hilton on her merry way rather than be subjected to the media frenzy that occurs during these moments of high-profile celebriosity. As for the mystery medical ailment that allowed the early release, one could only imagine what could have laid her so low that she couldn't finish her stay in stir. Perhaps some sort of radical shift in reality gave her the bends, or maybe she's allergic to common folk, or most likely - she's spoiled to her rotten little core.
All this being said, I must reiterate my thanks to Paris and her defense team. She has given me a twelve minute respite from the news of the world. The death toll in Iraq has risen to more than three thousand five hundred. Our president feels compelled to throw his weight around as the only "superpower" left by dropping new missile defense sites into eastern Europe. Scientists have discovered a new, potentially deadly bacteria named Bartonella rochalimae. At least twenty eight people have died in the wake of Cyclone Gonu. Happily, a judge has asked Paris to return to court tomorrow morning to continue to muddle through what amounts to justice being served. I'll be watching, because ignoring this poor girl's plight just wouldn't be right.
All I can say to Paris is, don't do the crime if you can't do the time. And hire a *&$%#@ driver next time!
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I always liked the "Boondocks" cartoon where Grandpa finds Paris Hilton's lost sidekick, and finds a voice mail from the local STD clinic.
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