Who better than to school Hollywood starlets – nods to Lindsay, Paris, Britney, and a long ago Nicole – on rehab than the black sheep of the Reagan political family, Patti Davis? "It makes me angry when I see how the opportunity of being in rehab can be abused as nothing more than a slick PR move," she writes in Newsweek. "A brief retreat from the paparazzi. How lucky these celebrities are to be able to go to one of these facilities (which are not cheap) and to benefit from the wisdom and help that waits behind the gates."

Davis, to be sure, never went to rehab. Though, she admits, "I should have. I plunged willingly, desperately, into addiction at the pliable age of 15. My poison, my love, was speed. It came in pretty colored tablets called amphetamines. Over the years it changed to capsules—some clear with orange and black granules inside, some pure black. Like the devil. Like hell."

Except she didn't enjoy it in places like Winston's, Teddy's, or the Chateau.

Continues Davis:

It was the late '70s. There probably was rehab in some form, but I didn’t know, and I didn’t search. I wish so badly now that I had been able to go into a facility like the ones that abound now. An environment dedicated to pushing me into wellness. An environment with people who had already stumbled down the road that was before me, people who could teach me, console me, shake me up. People who knew my excuses, my rationalizations, my manipulations even before they came out of my mouth.

Unfortunately, at the time, Davis had nearly divorced her parents, Ronald and Nancy. And unfortunately for Lindsay, mama Dina is the biggest enabler of all. So, like, good luck with that.