Building the Walls of Paris

How Dare They Make Paris Hilton Go to Jail!!
Come on. Just because she likes to drive drunk? An abomination. She's a career heiress; she's has privileges, dammit. She has the privilege to screw who she wants, to get drunk as hell, snort tons of cocaine, do Ecstasy, have abortions, drive drunk if she wants to, why even run over people if she wants to--how dare they say she violated her probation! You don't put a Hilton on probation!!

I grew up acquainted with the Hiltons. In my day it was Conrad Hilton. He's the guy who created the hotel chain that has allowed the life-loving and rich-bitch and spoiled brat Paris to tiptoe through the F-ing tulips with privileges oozing from her (easily accessible) opened legs.

Conrad's first hotel was built 30 miles east of my hometown in Cisco, Texas. Yahooo! His next hotel was the Hilton Hotel in my hometown, a big square building that sat smack-dab in the middle of town, wearing like a top hat a huge red-blaring neon sign with "the Hilton Hotel" trumpeting out from it--though the Hilton was a midget building compared to my hometown's other hotel--the landmark building for the city up until the 1960s--a 16-story beauty of a building whose up-in-the-stratosphere neon sign blared the name of this hotel out in glaring red all across the prairies. You could see the red glow of that sign from 15 miles away in any direction--that and the skysweeping beacon light from the town airport, which could actually be seen from about 25 miles in any direction. Oh those flat prairies--the Lone Prairie. "Don't bury me, on the Lone Prairie" was said to have been written on the Hashknife Ranch, a part of which became my hometown in 1881.

So I've heard tales about the Hilton family from the time of my first memories and have passed by the first Hilton Hotel dozens upon dozens of times; later in my life, I was compelled to stay in Hilton hotels just for those legendary memories, actually living for a month or two in the International Hilton in Mexico City in those past glory days when I myself lived the sort of life Paris feels she's privileged to live.

I agree. Poor little Paris should be excused her sins on the basis that it's the only life she's ever known---WORK! What the hell is that? I mean, come on, how would you like to wake up and realize you were going to inherit so much money when your parents die you wouldn't ever have to do a damn thing in life but party and party hearty and be seen and be adored and be lusted after. Frankly, she's not this wolf's type. I mean, don't get me wrong; I've seen Paris's best movie--her "leaked" porn movie--isn't it great how these creepy actors and celebrity always manage to have leaked one of their porn tapes. I remember when they leaked old Rob Lowe screwing the 15-year-old Atlanta girl. Nothing happened to Rob on that one; in fact, it kind'a helped get some more roles--except he wasn't that great an actor; he was better at screwing underage girls than he was at acting. Same goes with Paris; she's a great lay, but other than that, I see no need for her in society. I'd keep her in jail for a couple'a years. Of course, she's getting privileges in jail that you or I wouldn't get, like she's gonna be isolated from the other inmates--can you imagine throwin' Paris into a dorm cell packed with a bunch hardcore streetwise "dykes" if they have to be gals--sleeping in bunk beds and having to piss and crap in a slop bucket?

Paris's lawyer said it was so cruel to do this to Paris. Eat me, you bastards. Throw the lawyer in jail, too.

Like Matthew Broderick killed two people driving his BMW in Ireland--he never served one day in any kind of jail and he didn't have to serve any kind of probation either. The Irish cops apologized for the Irish couple he killed getting in the way of his Beamer and they let him go Scot free. What privileges these boobs have and how they use it over we stupid silly asses who pour out big bucks every weekend to watch their sleazy antihero killer/thriller movies where they play MEN and WOMEN they can't possible match in terms of their own real characters.

Poor Paris. Spoiled brats get so pissed when they don't get their ways. How does Paris compare with our phony "president," Georgie Porgie Bush Baby? Yeah, he's a little prick of a spoiled rich brat himself. I'm sure Georgie Boy throws temper tantrums still. "I want my mommy!" I can hear him crying now.

thegrowlingwolf [limited visions today]
for The Daily Growler