Today’s news:

We’ll always have Paris — for now

It’s good to be an heiress. Paris Hilton, for the third time this year, has been busted on drug charges, and for the third time this year is claiming innocence. Two for marijuana and one for cocaine. The coke was in a purse that she borrowed from a friend and she thought it was gum, or so says the report. Come on, can she really think we are that gullible?

I don’t know about Paris, but I always check the contents of a borrowed purse, especially when I know that a stash of coke is in it. Can it be that she is really innocent all three times? Nope, I don’t think so. I think the Hilton money keeps her on the free, clear, road to nowhere and get-out-of-jail-free expressway. Except for the little stint in a California pokey (no pun intended) way back when, Paris hasn’t lost her stride, nor has she learned any lessons. In fact, when you see her mug shots, there isn’t a bit of remorse in those baby blues. Only a smirk on the lips and a pouty “Blue Steel” pose. Her lawyer claims she is innocent and it will all be proven in the courts. Yup, and Mel Gibson is husband of the year.

Just like Lindsay Lohan, the other train-wreck celebrity, Paris is never at fault.

I wonder, do the both of them negotiate at the beginning of each month whose turn it is: “Lindsay, what’s up beeatch? It’s Paris. Look, who’s it gonna be this month? I’m a little fuzzy and I really can’t remember. Is it my turn or yours? If it’s mine, I really have to get on the ball, get my mug extensions in, and make sure my arrest wardrobe is in order.”

It always amazes me how easily the movers, posers and do-nothing celebutards get to skate free when the rest of us shlubs have to do the time, pay for the crime and don’t get the option of a touch-up on mug shots. Sure, they pay a fine and complete community service, but real time, not in this lifetime. It’s good we are the land of equality, especially if you have an equity card, that is. Oh sure, sometimes us regular folk, if we’re lucky, we get to put a coat over our heads. But most of the time it’s just our hands, if not shackled behind, that hides the face from photographers covering perp walks.

Not for nuthin,™ it’s too bad that Scavullo is no longer with us. He would have done a bang-up job and made a fortune on mug shots of the rich and famous — the Parises, the Lohanes, the Gibsons. Imagine the millions.

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