It is GRUB-man, not GROOBMAN

Lizzie Grubman, or “Grubby Liz” or just “Grubby” for short, as she will be known henceforth – is the kind of broad you either love her because she gives you access to the “high life”, or you hate her with the bitterness of lemon rinds in sour milk because she’s a spoiled rich bitch who could give a flying fuck about anybody who isn’t “anybody.” 

Let’s give Grub the benefit of the doubt: she wasn’t drunk when she plowed her super-celeb lawyer daddy’s 2001 Mercedes SUV truck into a bunch of bystanders outside a “hot” Hamptons nightclub.  That means she acted rationally when she called a bouncer “fucking white trash” and promptly reversed her Mercedes truck into milling bystanders, injuring several quite badly before exiting the stage outta-there and being whisked away from immediate repercussions like a dripping-wet Teddy Kennedy.  For Grubby, she’s VERY lucky no one was paralyzed or killed. She found solace in the arms of an old, equally dim-witted boyfriend of the trend-set.  He should be jailed for harboring a fugitive – and a fucking ugly one at that.

So Grubs wasn’t drunk.  Which means she intentionally and in clear mind left the injurious scene of her own creation without regard to who was hurt and how badly.  This alone is cause to put her in jail for a minimum of five years.  But rest assured and take this guarantee to the bank doubtless filled with Grubby’s unearned money: the Cunt ain’t going to jail, she won’t be spending any carpet-munching time in the Big (Lesbo) House, rest assured. Okay, say she was drunk.  But it can’t be proven because Grubby’s lawyer showed up and cowed the on-the-ball police out there, preventing them from grabbing Grubber and sticking an alcohol detector in her foul mouth.

Hey, it’s not like all sorts of shit doesn’t get stuck into that hell-hole; Grubs is likely an expert fellatrix on the order of Monica Blew-in-ski.  Anyway, the alcohol detector is one item Grubs wasn’t going to blow, suck, or otherwise excite, so we’ll never know – short of revelations from witnesses at an upcoming Grand Jury - whether Grubsy was tipsy, topsy, or outright blotto when she jammed her truck into that crowd.  And left because it wasn’t her fault.

But she’s at the very pinnacle of New York’s trend-set.  The twatty slut circulates among the slime and sleaze of cultural back-wash like Britney (“I‘m a virgin who likes to get fucked”) Speers and assorted jack-rapping idiots who will be broke in 5 years, selling Rolls-Royces for dimes on the dollar to cover paternity suites.  Puff Combs – barely escaping the claws of justice for gunplay, stupidity and basic ghetto behavior recently – is a Grubman pal and is likely banging, or has banged, the ugly bitch.  With the lights out.

So now come the inevitable lawsuits.  Grubby’s dad and his high-priced and high-powered friends will get it all covered by assorted insurers, front companies, and by judges who like being blown by broads uglier even than Grubs.  In the end, Grubby will skate free to roam the highways and clubfronts, convinced of her own victimhood.  Her defenders in the press – and she has many friends in the press (most notably the usually sensible Cindy Adams of the NY Post) – will welcome her back.  All the while making sure that when Grubby takes the wheel, even if she takes the wheel of a kiddie-carnival car ride – they will be outta there - just like Grubsy was when she fled the carnage of broken and bleeding people who suffered her cunty hissy-fit.

There really are no penalties for this incident because Grubsy believes that she is the victim here, and that she is wronged, and that poor little Cuntsy deserves sympathy.  Her lawyers are already looking to “blame the vehicle, blame the victims, blame the police, blame anybody” because Grubsy you see is innocent.  Maybe with luck, Grubby will meet a nice president or congressman who will treat her like the hell-hole twat she is.  If only the world worked so well.

--Dick Acorn