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Paris Hilton is going to jail and that my friends is a terrible shame. Yes I am going to come to Paris Hilton’s defense on this one and say that I don’t think it’s fair that she is actually going to spend 45 days behind bars in L.A. County. It’s not due to the fact that she’s a celebrity because I’ll be the first to say that having a boat load of cash doesn’t mean you’re above the law. My reasoning is also not based on the fact that she’s started the almightiest of legal defense strategies - a petition on her myspace page. Before we incarcerate young Miss Hilton let us take into account the biggest factor in the case: Paris Hilton is a fucking retard. And imprisoning balloon holders is just not socially acceptable.

Think about it for a second: She makes something like 19 or 20 homemade sex tapes of her with a bunch of different guys - one includes a scene where she does blow off of some dude’s cock - and then doesn’t lock the tapes up and they get released. She stores a bunch of incriminating material, including more sex tapes, in a u-store it locker and doesn’t pay the $200 bill so they all get sold at an auction and get released to the public. She’s regularly appeared in public, sans panties, allowing the viewing public to be formally introduced to her beef curtains and apparently she didn’t know.

She didn’t know she wasn’t wearing underwear. If she lacks the mental capacity to recognize the fact of whether or not her nether regions are guarded from the elements I’m not surprised that she had no clue that “suspended license” means “Paris no drivey.”

But if I have my way there’s no chance that a delicate little cock-holster like her will enter the penal system ( an odd choice of words seeing as the every available penal system has already entered her) without being forearmed. Paris baby I’m about to give you a crash course in jail etiquette because…

Now jail may be a completely different environment but I’ve done my research so I feel completely qualified to offer this kind of survival information. I watched nothing but girls in prison movies for the past three days and I find myself in the unique position of being a “Chick in Prison” expert.

While she was used to wearing designer duds on the outside the prison uniform will be a significant change. Though often drab in color women’s prison uniforms are almost always skimpy and somewhat revealing; often missing several buttons near the top of the blouse to more accentuate one form of Chick Prison currency: The Boobies.

According to documentary films; women’s prison uniforms get dirty quite often and are required to be cleaned at least once a day. For unknown reasons – most likely for disciplinary purposes – anytime the inmates must change clothing it is cold. According to my research being vulnerable and cold forces the inmates to huddle together for safety which leads to some very sexy companionship moments.

Paris – I’ve seen you dress in skimpy attire before so I don’t believe the uniform will be a problem however it is my suggestion that you get boob implants prior to your time in jail. Not only will it benefit your post-jail career but in the slammer your big titties will be a valuable commodity – not unlike cigarettes.

When guys go to “Big-Boy fuck me in the ass prison” we’re saddled with mammoth, pipe wielding, gang members who are trying to make up for the fact that mommy didn’t love them by forcing anal sex on their smaller cell mate. When girls go to prison it’s an entirely different story. Though the Alpha/Beta pack mentality is still there; the female ability to reconcile conflicts relies less on physical conditioning and more on who’s crotch you can dive into first.

According to revolutionary film maker Jimmy James Dicksin – who’s passion for anthropological film making has brought us such amazing women in prison films as: Fist Full of Vaginas, The Good The Bad and The Shaved, Scissor Locking Sorority Sisters, Billy Club Strapons part four and his piece des resistance Clam Smacking Nazi Bitches Bring The Thunder – “When the girls go into the slammer their scared and confused. At first they must turn to their cell mates for guidance…and that guidance is sexy. Lessons that most inmates teach their new cellies include things like how to pass the time by masturbating, the exquisite art of dining at the Y and respect because while time in Chick Prison might be awfully sexy it’s also about learning important life lessons.”

Paris, pumpkin, it looks like it’s time to start weaning yourself off of pole and start getting used to the idea of muff wrestling for top bunk. Though if your publicist takes some initiative, and gets a couple of cameras installed in key locations through the facility, you can continue making money on the inside while continuing to build your burgeoning amateur porn career.

Being in a confined environment with a lot of people can create chaos for your immune system. In a locale like jail germs around passed around like Halloween candy and it is important for people to bathe and maintain proper hygiene. Though bathing and grooming doesn’t have to be a solo activity as these acts can bring her and her new found friends closer together.

First of all: Showers are a communal activity and as such allows for each member in the group ensure that every other member of the group is squeaky clean. In accordance with “Shower Sirens 9” all female inmates should take plenty of time in the shower and make sure that they run their hands over their own bodies several times – slowly and rhythmically - before presenting themselves to a member of the congregation for inspection. When each female prisoner has spent enough time cleaning themselves they are allowed to gingerly approach another inmate and run their hands along their glistening smooth skin. This inspection process might take some time but I say that personal cleanliness is nothing to be rushed. In some cases it becomes necessary, in order to determine proper cleanliness levels, for the females to run their tongues over one another. This is normal and to be expected.

The second thing one must consider in personal hygiene is that body hair can be a problem. This has already been dealt with in most of the case studies that I’ve seen because the girls made sure the hair on the head was well washed and everything else was shorn off. By not providing a place for germs to hide the girls seemed to be in good spirits. However in a recent field publication: “Shaved” - it made mention of grooming and that if a girl is too embarrassed or lonely to groom themselves they should involve a partner to..*ahem* trim the hedges….if you know what I mean.

Ms. Hilton I’ve seen a couple of videos of you floating this here internet and I don’t think that you’ll have a problem bathing with a large group of women considering the veritable locker room you’ve spent genital time with. Also; if memory serves me correctly, you have a ”blank canvas” down there so you’re a step ahead of most.

The last thing we really need to cover is something that is very prevalent behind bars: Fighting. Women are, by nature, catty. They will fight and bitch and complain and eventually one chick will piss off another chick and it will be time to rumble. Girl fights don’t often erupt quietly as girls are prone to screaming and yelling and you will be instantly alerted as to when a really sexy altercation is about to begin.

Ostensibly all girl fights happen in or around the following places: A mud pit, a pool, a pool filled with jello, fresh cream or a dildo factory. I can not say what cosmic force sets these events in motion but I can tell you that I enjoy them immensely. I have yet to see a girl fight that has ended in a knockout but I have seen plenty that end in submission…submission to the primal force that boobies and vaginas hold over all mankind. Oh sure at the start of the fight they’ll be pulling hair and throw each other around the day room but five minutes into it and someone’s dumped an entire large bowl of cold cream on one chick, a dildo’s materialized out of thin air and what you have on your hands in far less “A Fight” a something more akin to “Hot Lesbian Sex”.

Once again it seems as though Paris’ love of the ole Wang-A-Roo will be holding her back in prison but I have a feeling that a couple of days into and she’ll get in the groove – as the case may be.

In closing, Ms. Hilton, I’d like to take a moment to review what steps can be taken for you to acclimate to prison life with ease:

Get Boob Implants Shave Your Vagina Learn To Love Girl Crotch Have everything recorded so that the whole world may share in the glory of yet another chick in prison movie.

If you follow those simple instructions you’ll do just fine.

Trust me. I am, after all, an expert – I’ve watched 72 straight hours of video evidence to support everything I’ve just claimed.

This afternoon I decided I would experiment on myself and not in the choke yourself while masturbating and punching yourself in the mouth kind of way. After drinking coffee and soda all morning I bought one of those five hour energy shots and found myself halfway on the brink of a heart attack. But at the same time I found myself with super-meth-head type energy boost; the results of which are what you’re about to see. I’m sure something similar to this has been done before but fuck them it’s never been done by me.

Before we move on you have to understand something: I, like most comedians, comic artists, people with half a brain, HATE FAMILY CIRCUS and nothing brings me more satisfaction than sullying something pure and innocent and twisting it into a dysfunctional clusterfuck. For legal purposes all the characters of The Family Circus are the copyright of the guy who makes this retarded strip. I’m just the asshole who took his wholesome words out and put my own fucked up jokes in there. With the groundwork laid, here it is:

Yes I feel really dirty for having written that caption.

Sadly, I did not write this line. Thank you Dave Attel.

Feel free to go ahead and spread ‘em around on the myspace and such….I could use the advertising.

Travis from How To Kill People (dot) Com: Sullying American institutions one anal-sex joke at a time.

I just saw a movie that will, from this point forward, set the standard for jaw dropping personal film making. If you watch this movie and your jaw doesn’t hit the floor the movie will literally reach off the screen, rip your arm off, and break your face with it. That movie is the Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino double feature homage to b-rated seventies cult flicks: Grindhouse. You know a movie is going to be good when the name alone brings to mind images of a slaughterhouse and a strip club.

The first thing you have to understand is that this is not going to be your typical popcorn munching Saturday night at the movies. This is a true three and a half hours of back-to-back, non-stop festival of gore, titties, ass-kicking, car-chases, exploding head and the greatest single use for a helicopter ever. Watching Grindhouse is like having 220 minutes of hard-core hooker sex. You know you’re not going to spend this type of money all the time so you’re going to get everything you can out of the situation and Rodriguez and Tarantino deliver on the hard end of fuckery. Not to mention that each movie is preceded by fake trailers for movies made by other film makers.

I tried putting these trailers, via YouTube, right into the post but wordpress is being a cunt about embedding youtube videos so just click the names to watch the trailers…thanks for dick wordpress.

Such as “Machete“: a Mexploitation flick by Robert Rodriguez.

“Don’t” an ambiguous horror film by the wacky boys who brought you Sean of the Dead.

“Werewolf Women of the SS” a hodge podge horror film from Rob Zombie that gives you awkward feelings because the chicks are topless and you want to stare at their tits but at the same time they’re in werewolf form and covered in hair. So part of you is turned on while a separate part of you feels dirty for staring at hairy werewolf titties..it’s all very confusing.

And then there’s the Piece de Resistance in Eli Roth’s “Thanksgiving” which, well by god, this is the absolutely best trailer. Pay close attention at the end and you’ll catch the best joke ever. It’s a quick physical gag that had me laughing for ten minutes - which is apparently just the right amount of time for the girl behind me to question, “What’s the fuck’s wrong with that guy?”

And that, dear readers, is merely the appetizer for the four course meal of neck snapping you about to indulge in. These trailers are but foreplay to the hardcore action your brain is about to take in. Basically folks: your eyeballs are about to get fucked in the greatest way possible.

First up is Robert Rodriguez’ “Planet Terror”; a gore filled zombie flick that grabs my love with the first scene as Rose McGowan Go-Go dances her way right into my heart. After that it’s non-stop zombies, death and destruction. There’s this scientist dude who creates a chemical that turns people into zombies and if you cross him this motherfucker takes your balls…literally. Then for some reason pop-singer Fergie shows up and promptly gets eater by zombies. Which serves her right. What purpose do you have being in a horror film if you’re not going to show your tits? No Boobies = you get eaten by the walking dead. Then this dude named El Ray shows up and decides that he’s had enough of this zombie shit. He rescues the now peg-legged Rose McGowan - which leads to the most hilarious sex scene ever. He rallies the posse; which includes an insane nurse and a female police officer who is not named but each time you see her - her clothes get smaller and more revealing - and saves the day. As the entire entourage is escaping the “Military Base” one dude jumps in the seat of a twin rotor Chinook helicopter and flips the switch to “Split Zombie Skulls” and mows down an entire battalion of rogue zombie soldiers. this is where Rose’ mighty machine gun leg - so lauded as one of the key over the top ideas to make it into the picture - comes in handy as she uses it to kick some serious ass, break dance style.

Though the machine gun leg wasn’t the first idea.

The jack hammer from Dusk Til Dawn.

Optimus Prime’s giant wiener from an article I wrote

Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman (actual size)

That right there could be enough. You could walk out of the theater satisfied that your money was well spent. But this shit aint over yet because up next is Quentin Tarantino’s “Death Proof” . Deathproof stars Kurt Russell as Stuntman Mike. What’s he do you ask? He’s a stuntman tardo. If I had said his name was goat-fucker Bill you wouldn’t be sitting there asking me retarded questions. You’d hear the name and just assume that his man named Bill - who is commonly called “Goat Fucker Bill” - spends a good majority of his time fucking livestock. Pay attention. This movie is an exhibition of Quentin Tarantino’s ability to write captivating dialogue which is proven with the 20 minute false start that this film receives but once it actually hits the ground running…hang on to your tits.

So Stuntman Mike is one mean motherfuckin’ motor scooter and gets his rocks off by putting pretty girls in his Stuntman Mike approved super-car and introducing them, face first, to the dashboard. First this sick fuck seduces Rose McGowan into getting into his stunt-mobile and once she’s incapable of escaping explains to her that she’s about to get the joy ride from hell. Driving at 900 mph he slams on the brakes real quick and Rose – poor dear sweet rose who was not wearing a seatbelt – gets a double serving of dashboard for dinner. But Stuntman Mike doesn’t stop there. His appetite is insatiable and he’s out to wreck shop on the rest of Rose’s crew of friends. At the bar he just left; old Stuntman Mike was shunned by a group of bitchy girls and Stuntman Mike doesn’t take to kindly to girls pitching him shit. He doesn’t have the greatest people skills so he decides to end their cattyness in the only way he knows how: by hitting their car head on.

This is the greatest car crash ever filmed and you get to see it FIVE TIMES. The first time is the initial crash and each time following shows what happens to the four females in the car during the head on impact and – I kid you not – you get to see him run over a girls face in slow motion. I keep two list with me at all times. One is my “people who need to die list” and the other is a “methods of death list” and running over someone’s face has just jumped to the top!!!

And then the movie starts over. There’s a new set of girls, a new set of circumstances, but the same old Stuntman Mike. But there’s one part of the equation that’s changed: These girls are stunt car drivers. This variable leads to the greatest car chase ever filmed. The last twenty minutes of Death Proof is going to make you crap out copies of every Fast and the furious movie ever made. This is the greatest car chase ever; swiftly replacing the veteran of the genre ‘Smokey and the Bandit’.

The car chase in this film is fucking amazing. There’s no CGI, no models, no wirework; it’s 100% real and 150% KICK ASS!!! The three girls in the car are assaulted by Stuntman Mike and his Stunman Mike-esque driving shenanigans and decided that they’re going to fight back by showing him what real driving is all about. And by real driving I mean what happens when you piss off three girls who aren’t the wimpy, “Oh fuck beans, I broke a nail,” type of chicks. The run a clinic of crazy driving and revenge all over Stuntman Mike’s ass!!! And right when they’re at the peak of beating the hot buttered fuck out of Stuntman Mike - the movie ends. Just like in sex they’ve shot their load, it’s all over and it’s time to smoke a pack of cigarettes.

And also, just like sex, all I wanted to do afterward was not cuddle and wonder how I could do it again - but this time without paying so much money and also without so many other people in the room.