On Independence Day: July 5th

In anticipation for the buzz surrounding a possible sequel to Independence Day (the best movie ever made) I have dedicated this post to Russell Casse. If it wasn't for you, brosk, we wouldn't have kicked all that alien ass. Payback is a bitch. RIP Russell Casse: An American Hero.



Well, you did it America, I mean World, you did it. You banded together and launched a simultaneous attack on the alien invaders and you killed them. Good job, World, you saved the World. On this day, our Independence Day, we humble humans with our puny technology beat out telekinetic aliens I once heard described as "like locusts. They're moving from planet to planet... their whole civilization. After they've consumed every natural resource they move on." Pretty scary, huh? Well, not anymore, World, because you kicked their ass. Jeff Goldblum loaded some spyware on their computer, and after several pop-ups proclaiming "CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST WON A BRAND NEW IPAD" their computers blew up and with it all of their defenses. And then you nuked them, World. You nuked them and it was awesome. There was dancing in the streets celebration on the steps of the pyramids as the aliens spacecraft crashed to the Earth in a flaming, impotent heap. We had lived. The aliens had not.

What now?

Before anybody knew what to do the aliens had already destroyed several cities. New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Moscow, London, Paris, Houston. They're all gone. Destroyed. Houston! What will the Earth do without Houston!?!?!? If every economic stronghold left in the world is destroyed how do you expect to rebuild a global economy? What do we do now? Ah, the aliens are dead, guess I'll go back to work at... Oh, wait. Currency is useless now. Best case scenario: we're about to enter a global economic and political reconstruction the likes of which we have never seen before in recorded history. Worst case scenario: Worldwide panic and systematic murder of one another in resulting chaos.

Yeah, the aliens are gone, but so is the stock market. Not only that but several worldwide cities are now graveyards of twisted, burning infrastructure. Do you think FEMA knows what to do? FEMA is shitting it's pants right now! And that's If FEMA is still even there, seeing as it was in Washington D.C- which no longer exists by the way in case you were too busy dancing on the steps of the pyramids to realize. How do you expect going about rebuilding a country that's population is mostly dead or trapped under smoking rubble? I don't think the New Deal is going to solve this impending economic depression. World War III is not going to float all our economies.

Besides that. Do you know how that smoking rubble got there in the first place? Well, let's look back on the events of yesterday. Giant alien spacecrafts opened up their primary weapon and shot a beam of weird laser energy and then uhh, ah hell, I'll just show you:

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? No! Seriously! What was that? I've never seen anything on Earth do that! It's a nuclear bomb times 1,000,000. That had to be radioactive. It's a giant cloud of fire! There's no doubt that was radioactive. So, basically, on top of everything else we're probably going into a nuclear winter because, even though I'm no expert, that seems like the likely product of giant cloud of fire caused via laser beam. Moreover, let me remind you once more that this didn't happen just in a couple cities. This happened everywhere. If there is one event that's going to trigger massive and devastating climate change it is this. Not to mention remember all those alien spacecraft we sent hurtling toward the ground engulfed in flames? Remember those? What were in those? Probably nothing good. Probably not something you can find on the periodic table of fucking elements. How are we supposed to clean something up when we don't know what it is! Not to mention, it's stupid to think that there aren't any alien survivors. There definitely are. Yes, giant aliens with tentacles and telekinetic powers are roaming around the Earth, pretty pissed off right about now.

Basically, World, this is not good news. On an economic level, it's bad news. On a societal level, it's bad news. On a environmental level, it's bad news. On a basic human health level, it's bad news. Bad, bad, bad news. So, the question is. What do we do now? How do we continue to survive as a race. Because after the huge victory of defeating the aliens I am not ready to die of radiation-induced lymphoma. Nope. Not me. I'm an American! And this is our Independence Day! I am not about to die via the extenuating circumstances of an alien invasion. I don't know about you guys, but fuck the aliens. Fuck those guys.

So, what now? I'll tell you what now, World. We take those bastards for all that their worth. We take those fancy-shmancy alien scientists down at Area 51 and we make them fix those goddamn spacecrafts. We did it for Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum's alien taxi cab- we can do it for those giant circular thingies. We fix them. All of them. And then what? I'll tell you what, we get the fuck off this rock. I didn't even like it anyway, fuck Earth, man. I don't want to be here, its small and cramped and filled with deadly radiation. There's gotta be somewhere better and I'm getting out while the gettin's good. Where do we go, you ask. Well, I'll tell you where we go. We move somewhere else, to another world, another civilization. We take all it's resources and technology and move on. We'll get stronger. And we'll continue doing this for the rest of eternity. We will survive, World. Because that is what we are. We are survivors. We kicked alien ass before and, goddamnit, we will do it again. We will band together once more! We will be like locusts! Moving from planet to planet! Our whole civilization! After we've consumed every natural resource we move on! Because that's what we do, humanity, we kick alien ass. Forever and always.

Investigative Report On The Wizarding World.

Upon first glance it's easy to detect what the downfall of the Harry Potter Wizarding World was- Voldemort, of course. An evil, tyrannical psychopath has a destructive effect on a civilization. However, once you probe deeper into the inner-workings of such a clandestine society like the magical world in Great Britain you begin to see the complex latticework that allowed one random nose-less dude to reek havoc upon millions (Thousands? Hundreds? Everyone seems to know each other in the wizarding world. Do they have a Census? I doubt it.)

I'd like to begin this analysis by stating that the Wizarding World has put themselves on a higher plane than what they like to call "muggles" or non-magical beings. No magic?! People who use cars! Hah! And Cell Phones! What?? They don't even use wands. It's astounding to wizards that since we tiny folk can't use magic we have to resort to using airplanes to get from place to place (instead of popping into or out of existence whenever we pleased), or actually developing a practical currency (massive circular discs of gold is not a practical currency. What is your economy based on anyway, Wizards? Is it free market? It seems like all of your economic growth stems from a single street of shops in London. Most of which serve exclusively candy and ice cream). All of these things make these so called wizards feel better than their non-magical counterparts. The word Muggle even has a hard "g" sound which makes it sound a lot like "niggers" or "faggots" which happen to be racial slurs, if you didn't know. Even the wizards who find it in the goodness of their hearts to take pity upon we lower beings and shower us with kindness are still acting out segregation (keeping your existence a secret from the rest of the world = segregation) and discrimination. Not only that but they look at non-magical beings with a gross fascination (Muggle Artifacts Office. Case in point.) While the more conservative wizards actively punish muggles, calling them "mudbloods" and torturing them and so on and so forth, non-radical wizards just treat muggles as a cause much like the ASPCA. Sad, unwanted, pityable albeit cute creatures who once in a blue moon they'll adopt.

How very kind of you, wizards! I know, it sucks so much that I actually have to get up and get the remote instead of flicking my wrist and having it levitate towards me. Oh, wait, you guys don't have TV, do you? Bummer. There is one thing, however, that we muggles have figured out (albeit through trial and error) that you fancy wizarding types can't seem to grasp which results in your entire society living in constant fear of a terrible and gruesome death. Democracy. Yes, wizards, this is something you lack.

Let's talk about the Ministry of Magic. The entirety of the Britain magical world is run by a bureaucracy that is duly-appointed by a small group of rich aristocrats. Ministers of Magic do not get elected, they get appointed. This Ministry is formed of several departments, each strictly regulating how a wizard or witch goes about living their life. There's a department in this ministry that's sole purpose is to monitor your fireplace. The fireplace in your private home. As if that's not enough they put a trace on your child so they can monitor their activity too. And The Department of Mysteries? That department exists solely for keeping secrets from the general public. At least in America we try to hide we have one of those. Any sort of legal system in place in the wizarding world is run- for the most part- by biased elderly rich men, and then the Ministry needs to hire employees (with who's money? Taxpayer money? Who on Earth would pay taxes if every time a auditor came by you could pop out of the country?) to make sure their entire existence is kept secret, and if someone breaks that they need to pay the consequences and possibly go to prison.

Ah, the Prison System. The prison in the Magical World is on a small island and it's called Azkaban. Sounds like Alcatraz right??? Oh, yeah, except in our prisons we don't employ phantom guards that suck out the happiness of everyone imprisoned. That sounds like a violation of human rights to me. Let's put aside things like the Death Penalty for a second and examine the fact that if you waterboard a prisoner in the muggle world, for even a few minutes, it's a crime worthy of the Hague? However, in the Wizarding World nobody seems to question that the Prisons are guarded by demons, who suck your soul out through your mouth. Not only that but they have flimsy allegiances! At any second they may be release everyone from prison and join the enemy.

The enemy. Evil Lord Voldemort. Could this sad, evil, monster perhaps be a product of the flawed, undemocratic bureaucracy that brought him up? The Wizarding World: An elitist society with an absolute leader and a clear intelligentsia. How is it that a violent reactionary could POSSIBLY arise from that sort of society? Wow. Gosh, you know, this is beginning to sound a lot like Russia. You know what happened to Russia? They revolted and half their population died. Furthermore, for the better part of a century Russia was led under fascist, virtual martial law. Gosh, Wizarding World, sounds exactly like what happened to you. I wish there was a group of teenagers who would have killed Joseph Stalin before he could kill 35.5 million Russians. I guess everyone isn't as lucky as you.

Perhaps, Wizarding World, you should get off your magical high horse and really take a look at yourselves. Perhaps, all these angry, radical terrorists that seem to crop up in the thousands are a reaction to the undemocratic, pretentious and unforgiving society you have put in place. I'm sure if you read this investigative piece of journalism you will just think "Oh. Poor Muggle. She doesn't understand anything! She can't even do magic! How pitiable!" Poor us. Poor Muggles. Yeah. Well. Listen up, dickwads, how about we drop a nuke all over Hogsmeade and we'll see what you do with your wands then.

Perhaps if for some reason the Wizarding World dropped their (basically) government run news publications and actually produced some worthwhile bipartisan journalism my words would reach someone. Perhaps if the best investigative journalist of your times wasn't Rita Skeeter (ours isn't Kitty Kelly, Jesus, get a journalism school, Wizards) and perhaps if the only alternative media source, The Quibbler, wasn't written by a veritable crazy person (and probable drug addict) this piece of journalism would matter. Maybe, if this was a piece of investigative journalism in the 60s maybe I could have done something, but now. Now. Drunk with power after destroying evil by recruiting children to do your dirty work, my words are just dust in the wind.

A Letter to Latin

Dear Latin,

You think you’re really fucking funny, don’t you? It’s hilarious to have fourteen different words for the verb “go” isn’t it? I bet you think you’re smart too. Because apparently having five different declensions, three genders, seven noun cases, four verb conjugations, six tenses, six persons, three moods, two voices and two aspects makes a language really scholarly. I’m sure you think you’re hot shit because Ceasar spoke your language. Well, guess what? Ceasar was brutally murdered by his best friend. Latin, I fantasize about hitting you over the head with a baseball bat and watch the blood ooze out of your cracked skull. I think about pulling your fingernails out one by one, watching you scream out in pain over and over and over again and I laugh. If Doc Brown pulled up in his Delorean and told me to hop in I would set that puppy to 300 B.C. and murder your pregnant mother so you would never see the light of day. You see what you’ve reduced me to, Latin? A borderline psychopath with homicidal tendencies. You think you’re the mother of all languages? You make me sick. You make me want to move to Germany so I could speak a language that has nothing to do with you, and I’m Jewish, so that’s a pretty high order of hatred- making a Jew want to move to Germany. The only pleasure I get from your existence is that you’re dead. Yeah. You’re dead. You can think you’re smart and funny and cool but the truth is- nobody speaks you anymore except for Catholics, and guess what? Nobody really likes Catholics. So, Latin, I guess my point is- you’re not funny, rot in hell.

Love,
Kate Shapiro

Five Awesome Things To Do At Bars

Have you ever gone to a bar and went, well this is boring. Yeah, me too. But I got over it, mainly by adhering to these five great activities to do at bars. Here are five things to do at bars to assure that you have the most exciting Sunday at 3:00 AM ever!

1. Convince a fully grown adult to do a jagerbomb. Usually, after college the jagerbomb falls to the wayside. A shot of Jager and some Red Bull? That is the unsophisticated sort of drinking done by frat boys and scantily-clad women at some Lacrosse party at Duke. That is the unsophisticated sort of drinking that is followed by a stripper gang-rape scenario that makes your Gender Studies class like totally awkward for the next four months. Thank you very much, but I'll take my white wine spritzer instead. It's hard to convince a hard-working professional to do a jagerbomb but it is possible. Step One: Make sure they are already sort of drunk (white wine spritzer number four) Step Two: Engage them in some sort of witty banter. Maybe make a joke, or a fake reference ("Did you see that man over there do a jagerbomb? Classy, huh, right? HAH.") Step Three: Challenge them ("You should do a jagerbomb. IRONIC, right? It would be so hilarious.") If this doesn't work, which it will, because fully grown adults love irony then you can resort to Plan B. Which maybe should be your Plan A solely for the comedy. Plan B: If they still won't do the jagerbomb then you say "Okay, fine, lets see what the rest of the bar thinks." Then you go around and take a poll of the entire bar on whether this person should do a jagerbomb. Rally everyone together, and publicly shame them into doing the jagerbomb. Either way, that jagerbomb is going to be drunk and it's going to be entertaining.

2. Play a Drinking Game With That Drunk Guy Asleep In The Corner. Ah, drunk guy asleep in the corner. You are there, day and night, lurking, half asleep in the corner. You try to stay awake, but you just drank too damn much. Your appearance might change but there you are, slumped in a chair, surrounded by your friends, your friends who have forgotten you. I haven't forgotten you, drunk guy. I haven't forgotten you. So, you and a friend sit near the Sleeping Drunk Guy, but not too close. Sit at least five feet away. Train your eyes on him. Under no circumstances should you look away. Every time his eyes flutter open or he twitches a bit to the side, take a drink. There are two warnings about this game though. 1, Sleepy Drunk Guy may completely lose consciousness so the game could get boring fast. 2, Sleepy Drunk Guy may completely gain consciousness and catch on the game and get mad at you for using his current sloppy state as entertainment. Things might get belligerent fast.If all goes well though, you'll be drunk and giggling the entire night.

3. Find a French guy. He's allusive but he's there. Just look for a thin mustache, a cardigan and an air of pretension. Tell him to "Speak France." If he does, buy him a shot, if he doesn't, he's a dick, so start berating him with questions about France. ("Do they have houses in France? What about paved roads? Is there electricity? Why do French people smell so funny? Do they smell funny in France? Who is King of France these days anyway? What do they call French Fries in France? Do they call them Freedom Fries? That's what we call them in America. How accurate was the movie Moulin Rouge?") This can work for any foreign country actually, and most regions of America too.

4. Get People To Make Out. Hey! You! Come on! Make out! It'll be fun! Yeah! HEY-O! It's easy to get people to make out. Mainly because everybody wants to make out. Especially when they're drunk. What is great about drunk people is that they will make out with basically anybody. No man, woman, child or dog is off-limits to the drunk person. This activity has a 100% success rate. It may take some time but they will make-out and it will be epic. And usually disgusting! What you do is find a group of friends. A herd is best, congregated in a corner, huddled over empty beer bottles. Go over to them and find one person. Become friends with them. Ask them about their life. Ingratiate yourselves to them. Form a camaraderie. Migrate to an adjacent group of people with completely different characteristics. Maybe the person you found was a young hipster chick, and you walk over to some slightly overweight bros, or some late 30s aging businessmen, or really drunk Asians. The possibilities are endless. Then just point blank ask them to make out. Just go for it. They'll appreciate your directness. They want to make out. They totally already do. You're just a catalyst. Hey, maybe they'll get married and love each other forever. Or maybe it'll just be a lone hook up with maybe a boob grab. Either way, it will be hilarious. Also, funniest hook-ups: people in the army.

5. Most likely there is a TV with some sort of sports game. There will be one avid sports fan. At least one. Probably a group. Every sports team has a rivalry, right? Find out what that rivalry is and milk it. Say there is a Yankees/Red Sox game on and you are in New York City. Start talking about the Red Sox as if you had no idea they were Yankees fans. You don't even have to know much about sports. In fact, it's better that you go about this with an air of ignorance. "Wow, the Red Sox are pretty good this year, aren't they? Who pitches for them? Either way they're pretty good. I think they'll go to the World Series. Probably win it too. What a great franchise." The sports fan is already annoyed with you at this point but he won't push you away. He will try to correct you. The sports fan will always try to correct your world view. Keep feigning ignorance, you can even say "This isn't a Red Sox bar?" The great thing about sports fans is this: they just want to fight with you. Fighting with sports fans is fun because they get completely worked up over sports. Sports! They're not even playing the sports! Yet, they will still come to blows over said sports. I have once watched nine Phillies fans beat the shit out of a guy in a Yankees shirt. Most likely, these sports fans won't punch you, but they might. If they do: Run. Or fight back. If you're a girl you can just show them your boobs and you're back in their good graces. It's up to you. Either way it will be one memorable night.**

You may read this and say: "Kate, why are you using other people for your own entertainment." Because drunk people want to be used. They want to be used by other drunk people for entertainment purposes. And that is beautiful. It is beautiful that we can all come together on a Friday or Saturday night (or a Tuesday afternoon) and let loose are inhibitions! It's a testament to human beings that we can be so comfortable with other people. Drunk. At bars.

**By the way, Phillies fans are the best fans ever. They just want to fight each other, vomit on the field, get tased for running onto the field, and drink a lot in the daytime.

I Hate Fox & Friends

I hate Fox & Friends. It is incredible how much I hate Fox & Friends. I don't think it's possible to hate anything as much as I hate Fox & Friends. Except, maybe Nazis. For Me it is 1. Nazis 2. Fox & Friends 3. Dave Matthews Band. I hate those things. But this is not about Dave Matthews Band or Nazis. This is about Fox & Friends.

For the last month twice a week I have been assigned to watch Fox & Friends for Gawker TV and each week I gain a new and unique reason to absolutely hate this show. I would like to begin by saying I don't hate Fox & Friends because it is a morning show on Fox News and, therefore, it is conservative. No. I hate Fox & Friends because they're boring.

This is the overall structure of Fox & Friends: Report vague worldwide stories: (Hurricane in the Phillipines. Chilean Miners. A policeman asleep on the job in Oklahoma. Five year-old girl says "How Being In Jail Is Like Being In Limbo") then they have a pow-wow about how liberals suck. Except, it's not an interesting pow-wow, it's usually that skeletor-looking blonde woman making a bitchy sounding claim and the old guy going"Gretchen, don't you think you're taking this a little too seriously?" to which she screeches at him "Noooooooo, Steve, this is DESTROYING America, DESTROYING it." and he then goes "Gretchen, calm down, it's just Stephen Colbert, he's just a comedian." and then the other guy chimes in "Yeah, Gretchen, seriously. Healthcare is destroying America not Stephen Colbert" and she screeches more ("NO NO NO NO NO NO NO") and then they cut to commercial. Even this description is exaggerating how entertaining this show is. Imagine what I just described in the least entertaining way possible and that is what this show is.

Then they talk about politics, which is the really sad part of this newscast, because it's usually segments like "Are Women The New Swing Vote?" where they try really, really, really hard to say women actually do relate to Sarah Palin or Christine O'Donnell. Except they have no proof of this, it's three obscure pundits like "Woman on Atlanta Public Access Early Morning Talk Show" talking about their opinions and maybe, maybe, a poll with no citation whatsoever to any real polltaker. Then they play a tenuous bass line on top of these segments which makes human beings' feel disoriented and discombobulated and probably hypnotizes cats.

So this goes on for an hour except they replace "Are Women The New Swing Vote?" with "Mexican Assassins Sent Into Arizona To Kill?" and sometimes they change the various vague world news pieces but mainly they just report on the same news over and over for FOUR hours. Replaying the same news bits and the same tenuous bass line and all the dumb pow-wows.

At least Glenn Beck squirts blood out of his eye and spouts utter nonsense for an hour on his show. At least Bill O'Reilly screams a lot at people on his show. I like that more than three hours of the most boring news around punctuated with forgettable hosts and "um ah so yeah it's not raining in Kansas today!"

Fuck You, Fox & Friends. Fuck you.

People Need To Stop Taking Social Media So Seriously

Wow! Look! You can comment on each other's pictures on the internet! How crazy! Tweets! Facebook! Blogs! Holy shit, another social networking device so I can tweet, facebook and blog at the same time! I don't understand what the big deal about social media is about.

Once I had to sit through an hour and a half lecture on the merits of social media and how to effectively social network. It was seriously a dude talking about how to make your tweets look nice for an hour and a half. AN HOUR AND A HALF. I'm never going to get that hour and a half of my life back. I could have been feeding the homeless. Or making money, I could be spending money. Hell, I could be doing anything and it would have been more stimulating than that hour and a half talking about how neat twitter is. Then I go to parties and bars and I ask what someone does and they say "Oh, I'm in social media." What does that even mean? Is twitter and facebook that much of a mystery that companies have to hire other people to do them for it. These self-proclaimed social media whiz kids. Is it really that much of an accomplishment that you are capable of using the internet? I'm sorry, not the internet, facebook. I think the internet has strayed from it's original purpose- illegally downloading and porn.

Let's talk about the internet for the second. I love the internet. The internet has saved me hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years by essentially replacing human beings. I can check the news, sports scores, research my Philosophy paper, get cliff notes, chat with my friends, watch TV but mainly the internet is important for one thing and one thing only. Looking at fucked up shit. Yep. Fucked up shit. I could spend five minutes looking at facebook at some viral marketing scheme the social media experts have cooked up or I can read a first person account of how a man had sex with a dolphin. Don't get up on your moral high horses and tell me you never once google image searched "weird boobs." That's what the internet is really about. When people ask me what I do for a living I'm going to say I'm an expert at looking at fucked up shit on the internet. Another great thing about the internet is that it is full of things that would normally cost money but are now free! Yippee! The internet is a great place and it could be greater if it wasn't burdened by all these social media sites. Let's talk about a few of them and how to make them better.

Foursquare- What the fuck kind of program is this? Why would I want to check in to every place I go? What do I get out of that? I don't care where other people go and why would people care where I go? Oh, Kate Shapiro's at CVS Pharmacy. How riveting. Bah. Then in order to create incentive you can be the mayor of a place. Guess what you get for being the mayor of a place? That's right. Nothing.

The way to improve Foursquare: The only way this can be good if people really start divulging personal details "Kate Shapiro was at Planned Parenthood." Ooh! What was Kate Shapiro doing at planned parenthood? Did she get an abortion? Does she have syphilis! I bet she has syphilis! That's the kind of social media I can appreciate, the kind that really infringes on your privacy. Bringing the fucked up-ness of the internet to social media.

Microsoft Tag: Why should I take a picture of a symbol with my phone, process it in an App, just so Best Buy can tell me I can save 10% on the Blu Ray release of the latest Kristin Bell movie. Just use English. This is marketing at it's absolute worst.

How to Improve Microsoft Tag: Take a picture of the symbol, show it to your friend, say "Hey! Look at this, you might save 10% on that new Kristin Bell movie." They're like "Sure!" and then a series of pictures flash by the screen so fast it hypnotizes your friend into doing whatever you say.

So, hey, next time you hand me your business card with the words "Social Media Expert" on them I'll hand it back to you and say "Go back to party planning and living off your parents, twenty-five year-old white hipster."

I'll Take Care of You, Lindsay Lohan

Dear Lindsay Lohan,

I want to start off this letter by saying that I am a HUGE fan. I absolutely love Mean Girls (Like that part when the Santa Claus hands out all those candy-canes and he says "Glenn Coco? FOUR FOR YOU, GLEN COCO! You go Glenn Coco." Brings the house down every time. I know you weren't in that scene but still.) I have followed your career since I was a wee little girl watching Parent Trap and thinking you were the Olsen Twins and just dyed your hair and drew on freckles. That's besides the point. The point is- I love you. I love your work. I think you're not unattractive. So. Lets talk.

When you grew up into the dainty lady you are today- you started going to bars and partying and I was like O.K. this is what any young girl who grew up in the Hollywood sphere would do, a little drinking here and there. Well, you took that and you ran with it, Lindsay. While a Tuesday night used to be having a few drinks with Paris Hilton and going home around 2ish. A Tuesday night turned into you passing out in some 40 year-old man named Chip's bathroom who may-or-may-not be paparazzi with a needle lodged somewhere between your wrist and elbow. So then I was like O.K. little weird but whatever. Then you got arrested and I was like "Oh, Lindsay what have you done to yourself?"

It's totally fine to shoot up heroin and snort coke simultaneously in some bathroom at a TGI Fridays. In fact it is a little impressive you are physically able to do that. However, it is quite a different situation to be in jail with all the normal folk for drugs. Normal people! Un-famous people! Come on, Lindsay, you need to pull yourself together. I mean not because you were ever a role-model for kids. That is just laughable. Even when you were young you were in a movie where you deceived your parents just because you thought it would be funny. Wanna know where your mom in that movie is now? Dead. Yep. Dead. Then, even after THAT, you got big boobs and wanted to show them to everyone. And then you did. So, all in all, I'm not telling you to pull yourself together because you were once upon a time a role model for young children. HAH. I'm doing it because you are intermingling with D-Listers.

Lindsay, you are not a D-Lister! You are an A-Lister! You don't need to be in the parking lot of a Costco lying in your own urine mumbling lines from Herbie Fully Loaded in a drug induced catatonic stupor. You need to be a movie star and maybe even a Scientologist. Huh? Huh?? Right? Doing coke the day you get out of jail is not going to do that. And it's not even that you did coke. That's whatever- who cares. It's just that every self-respecting drug addict knows that when you are in danger of failing a drug test you drink eight gallons of cran-apple juice to wash out your system. Didn't you go to high school, Lindsay? Oh. Wait. Right.

So, I've taken it upon myself to take you in as a charity project. I mean Dina Lohan is obviously an unfit parent and a little bit of a bitch- no offense, Lindsay, but she is. Also, you're a 24 year-old millionaire. Why is your mom even taking care of you? Shouldn't you pay someone for that? I won't even accept money! This is totally probono. Listen, Lindsay, I know how hard it is to be addicted to cocaine. I can lock you in a room with the Basketball Diaries playing over-and-over for 37 hours. I can bring you cucumber water you will soon vomit out of your nose on 4,000 count Egyptian sheets. I can be the one to hold your hair back as you vomit on those sheets! I'll make sure Ali doesn't try to steal your spotlight while you're gone by kidnapping her and dropping her off in the middle of Death Valley with nothing but a bottle of Vitamin Water and a hair pin. I'll be that source who tells US Weekly "You know I was worried about Lindsay, but now, not things are better." Okay, so I might take money for that and spend it on an eightball and a fifth of whiskey, but I will not do any of that around you. I will do it at least in the other room. OMG. This is going to be so much fun! I will take care of you, Lindsay. I will make you better! I will be your sailboat during the storm. Or something. I don't know- we'll hire someone to think of a better metaphor.

But, really I'm only doing this to serve my 300 hours of community service for my own DIY. See ya soon, LiLo!