I Knew It

See, I knew Paris was going to fall apart and ruin this whole party. It was just too much fun, saying, "See, your rank and privilege have limits. You have to go to the same jails that we do." And by "we", I don't mean all Lumberjack readers, just those of us who have been caught and convicted - as for the others: congrats on your ability to thwart justice.

Course I was happy when they sent her home. I thought it'd mean more opportunities for derision. But there was that nagging report of a "medical condition". Well, a medical condition could be a sham, or it could be real. If it's just another attempt to game the system, then it's one more thing to make fun of. But if it's real, well, then the wife, the postman, and my dentist are right: I'm a jackass.

I clicked on over to Shrinkwrapped to see if the doctor had an opinion on this situation but he hasn't weighed in yet. Probably, he is waiting for facts, which is OK I suppose, but you know, isn't really my style. There could easily be a medical term for Paris's affliction: profound frailty syndrome, or vulnerability disorder, or something. One thing I can see from the picture though, the girl is taking this harder than needs be. Doesn't that picture make you want to put your arms around her, pat her back, and "there-there" her? Yeah, me too.

So I'm going to possibly cool it with the Paris thrashing for awhile. God knows she's got her plate full at the moment. And she's not helping the situation with the waterworks. Cry on your way into the cell-block and you'll be fluffing the pillows of the Aryan Brotherhood by lights-out.