Jerry O'Connell hosted an "alcohol-fueled" party to celebrate the end of the long-ass writers' strike [1]. Woot, woot — right? Five hundred people and $20,000 worth of neighborhood property damage later, O'Connell finds himself in deep shite for, like you know, just giving everyone a good time. Hmm . . . I'm having a déjà dumbass [2] moment.