Creepy psycho circus clown Michael Lohan has been arrested for the second time in three days—this time for allegedly trying to contact his girlfriend Kate Major, which he wasn't supposed to do because he just allegedly threatened to throw her off a fourth-floor balcony and The Law told him to leave the lady alone.
The Law frowns upon such disobedient behavior (except in Kansas, where The Law is like, "sure go ahead and beat/punch/threaten your S.O.," I'll just be in my living room watching this old episode of Vega$, or something"), and so the Tampa police came to arrest Lohan. But when they showed up, TMZ tells us, "he tried to escape by jumping a 3rd-story balcony ... and accidentally fell into a tree." Or did he assault the tree? Yes, he assaulted the tree, with his psycho clown body. Anyway, he's back in jail.
Between Papa Lohan and the tragic wonder now known as Boobs, Ass, and Vag, the Lohans should just rent out a jail and go live in it. They could frame all their family photos (mugshots, nude pictures) and put them on top of the television set so they can stare at themselves while they watch that I Know Who Killed Me movie (because watching Lindsay's glory-day films hurts too much now). For their Christmas newsletter, they could pose together in matching orange jumpsuits. Maybe the department of corrections would allow them to place an upright piano in the chow room, and they could gather 'round and sing "Confessions of a Broken Heart" and other religious songs in the evenings, after consuming whatever it is they consume (cocaine-laced meatloafs). I mean, why bother with all this shuttling back and forth? It seems so inefficient.