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We knew that it was only a matter of time before a news organization with Us Weekly's vast investigative resources would finally marshal the courage to finally expose Hollywood's Drug Problem, a social scourge that threatens to devour our finest, excess-prone famous people, greedily gnaw at what's left of the meat on their malnourished frames, then vomit back up their coke-bleached bones into the nearest luxury rehabilitation receptacle, preferably one with easy beach access. How bad has the crisis gotten? Says a highly placed Us "scenester" who's obviously been to at least one bar in WeHo in the last two years, "Coke is so not a big deal for young stars in Hollywood. It's like having a drink." Indeed, the public consumption of illegal narcotics is now so accepted that many of the city's finer nightlife establishments will deliver punchbowls brimming with blow (in a variety of flavors) directly to one's VIP booth, where parties can unashamedly blow rails at their leisure, eliminating the onetime annoyance of having one's drug use rushed by a bitch with a shy bladder constantly banging on one's bathroom stall door.