One morning I stopped into a neighborhood newsstand on Sunset Boulevard, a place where I went for coffee and magazines on a regular basis, and there was a huge display: “YES! We have the Paris Hilton Sex Tape!” The owner seemed baffled when I ripped the poster down and threw it in his face. He couldn’t understand why I was crying. “What’s wrong with you?” I screamed. “You’re not a porn shop, you’re a family newsstand! My little brothers come in here to get ice cream!”
