Never has our nation been more united than in our current consensus that Jennifer Wilbanks is officially coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. I?m talkin? coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. Y?know, we can?t seem to harmonize over Iraq, judicial nominees, or what to do with social security, but we have formally joined in one accord and have spewed our national coffee over the goggle-eyed runaway bride, aka, Jenny from Georgia. It seems as if this Georgia peach has officially begun to turn.
Jennifer ? what?s up, girl? What were you thinking?
First off, I?m glad Ms. Wilbanks is safe, and is not in a shallow grave underneath the trailer house of one of the two million free-ranging sexual predators, yet at the same time I think wacky Wilbanks still owes us a couple pounds of flesh for the time, money, and man power she wasted having selfless people look for her selfish self.
Having said that, I think jail is too brutal for this fragile doe. Heck, if she can?t handle living in an upper crust suburb, if she pops an O-ring over high-dollar wedding pressures, and if being betrothed to Opie Taylor makes her do the Forrest Gump to Albuquerque, you know that group showers, prison food, and a cold 10x12 cinder block cell would push her straight over the edge. And we wouldn?t that to happen because she would probably escape from prison and take off on a Greyhound bound for Moscow, Idaho, and it would be all on again.
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