Slammer Time!

A public brawl and tongue lashing lands Laguna Beach's Jason Wahler in jail, while Ann Coulter can't keep her hideous trap shut, quelle surprise. And some shutterbugs aren't happy with Joel Madden and his recent rowdy behavior while dining out with Nicole! Can't we all just get along?

 

Oh, too funny—before we get to today’s sass ‘n’ crass collection, must fill you in on where I’ve been the past couple of days: jury duty. Was riveting to mix it up with the gum-chewing masses (hey, this former three-pack-a-day smoker was right up there with ‘em, my molars in overdrive), who, killing time in the break room, were poring over everything Britney in the tabs.

 

But ain’t it a coinky-dink the more lofty types down at L.A. Superior Court are also celeb-addicted? See, when I was in the middle of voir dire (jury selection), one of my fellow potential jurors was being asked why, or why not, she’d be a good candidate for a trial, which involved extreme violence.

“Well, my husband was attacked once,” she explained, haltingly. 

“By someone he knew, or a stranger?” the judge inquired, brow furrowed.

“By a celebrity, actually,” the woman answered, grinning slightly, before telling us that the altercation occurred over—get this—a friggin’ parking space. 

The people assembled in the court laughed, but only slightly, afraid to perhaps offend the woman after her hubby’s hellacious experience. However, the dude in the robes up behind the Great Seal of California had no such desire to be at all discreet.

“Was it Jack Nicholson?” he pressed, breathlessly.

The woman barely smiled. And, at first, she wouldn’t say nada. Then she just shook her head, apparently in disbelief that she was being pushed by a big-ass judge to spill the beans in open court, and simply said, “No.”

And that was the end of that.

Ah-nuld, was it you? Just a hunch!

Now, whomever the badass was above, he (or she) ain’t alone. Celebs—and pseudocelebs—have been behaving badly, like it’s their damn job. Physical violence and hateful slurs are all the rage, who knew? Here are a few examples of the most recent offenders, in case you’ve been living under a rock:

Jason Wahler:  The bad boy from Laguna Beach is having one bad week. Not only was he arrested again, for underage drinking in a North Carolina bar, but he’s headed to the big house. Jason pled no contest to battery charges for punching a tow truck driver, while his female companion, Kristen DeLuca—one of those small-name models who thinks shes big and does really cheesy crap—kicked and spit on the poor guy. Nice.  

J.W.'s blood alchohol level was also nearly three times over the legal limit at the time. The punishment? Sixty days in the slammer. Hardly fitting, in my opinion.

Jason and his sidekick also unleashed a slew of racial slurs during that incident. For that indiscretion, they got a measly one-day stint at the Museum of Tolerance. Sounds like an elementary school field trip, not a real reparation, to moi.

Joel Madden:  Now, Joel didn’t say anything off color, but he has been accused of pushing a female photog. Joel took Nicole Richie out for a quiet dinner at paparazzi-infested Mr. Chow.  

And even though they went to a photo-op hot spot, Joel didn’t want his pic taken, evidently. There’s video of him pissy with a male photog who tried to get a shot. Yo! Whatever happened to covering up your face with your doggy bag?

Ann Coulter:  This bleached-
blond bitch on sensible pumps has stuck her elephantine spike in her puss yet again, this time calling John Edwards the pink F-bomb. She’s since said that particularly nasty name “is not an offensive word” but a “joke.” No one’s laughing, Ann. You need to pull a mea culpa and donate many thousands of dollars to fruity charities, pronto. 

Come to think of it, we’re still waiting for another tall thin blonde with an overactive mouth to apologize. Why am I not holding my breath?

Richard Gere, catchin’ a play on Broadway with the missus. Richard was spotted at the Thursday night show of The Vertical Hour, starring Julianne Moore and Bill Nighy. R.G., low-key in black jeans, a black sweater and B-ball cap, was with his wife, Carey Lowell, and another couple. I’m told Richard was “very attentive during the play and cheered during a few of the anti-Bush lines,” according to audience looky-loos. Less thrilled elsewhere was... Stacy Keibler, gettin' denied at the door. Winston's on Monday night here in Hell-Ay. The Dancing with the Stars doll rolled up in a cab with a few gal-pals and they were promptly told the bar was “at capacity.” The bouncer also didn’t know who she was. “What’s your name?” he asked. After much pleading and cajoling on her part, the blond babe was finally let in the packed place. Time to find a new claim to fame, honey. Mingling with the masses back East was... Ellen Barkin, shoppin’ with her daughter Romey. H&M on 5th Avenue and 18th Street on Sunday afternoon. E.B. was in black head to toe, with a long fur coat and her signature asymmetrical blond bob (which she was sporting way before Victoria Beckham, for the follicle record). E.B., she was helping her teenage girl pick out T-shirts, bras and undies. Mother knows best, fer sure! Come to think of it, so, too, do more than a few kinky hetero (male) married movie stars out here I know. Don’t you dare ask me who they are.