In the most shocking turn of events in all history, Paris Hilton was released this morning from Los Angeles County Jail. She began her 45-day sentence late Sunday evening, for a stay of 4 nights and three full days. It is rumored Paris may have redeemed some about-to-expire HHonors points to get credit for a full five days. Authorities would not comment on the transaction.
The bigger news has to be the 'unspecified medical problem' for which Paris's sentence was commuted to home confinement. The hints suggest susceptibility to infection, "skin condition." Inmates reported the jail was less than tidy on Paris's arrival.
Mind you, I'm not bothering to wax outraged on the premise that Paris Hilton is entitled to a first-class accommo--...er, jail. It's that some sycophant reporter thinks to ask, opening the door to "cruel and unusual" treatment as a subjective test. Can you see the next headline? Paris: "They Made Me Drink from the Carton."
All right, back to my main point, this mystery medical condition. Here's my bet: Paris is a dude. That's right, a vestigial twig and berries hanging off a boy-child girly bod.
The case is all inference and misplaced contempt, sure, but hey: if someone can purvey a film about a 9/11 conspiracy, it's anything goes, and I want several turns. So: the Hilton family owns the Hilton Luxor. There is also a Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas, which interestingly enough, Yahoo Travels features on the same page as the first! It's Yahoo!, people, a publicly traded company with a multibillion-dollar market cap. Don't tell me clerical error.
The Luxor in Las Vegas, a city where Paris is frequently spotted, has a long-running adult revue show, Fantasy, featuring among others the person depicted above. Note carefully the similar hair parts, lip structure, and the trademark neck obscuration. Normally Paris keeps her chin down, as shown in the first picture. In the second, she merely uses a pant leg of Nicole Ritchie's to make her face appear longer -- and to hide that Adam's apple. But this isn't two dudes trying to pass. It's one dude, desperately making a case -- c'mon, I'm hot! Really! -- and barely trying to hide the differences.
Why hasn't anyone else figured this out? Two reasons come straight to mind. Number one, if you've actually seen Fantasy, you wouldn't admit to it. And not just because it's so bad. C'mon, there are three types of "adult revue" in Vegas: gay men flexing their baby-oil pecs and abs, gay men dressing as women for your amusement, and gay men parading as women in front of clueless men and their dates for their own amusement.
Dude, they're all dudes. End of story.
Number two, the only reason you look at Paris Hilton to begin with is all that ridiculous money, fame and social power. Take that away, and she's greeting people at the door in a blue vest in Kalispell, MT, going to night school to get her CNA, and being told she's pretty in the same tone that her Carl's Jr. commercial director tells her she has great energy. Hell, I can get harder remembering Romper Room.