- This is not the tragic loss of a great screen actor. He’s always been fair to middling. He topped out working with Oliver Stone, and has been skating by on personality ever since. He’s lazy. He might have been a good actor, but he doesn’t put in the effort. His most indelible character has been a womanizing, semi-drunk actor – named Charlie! It’s not a stretch.
- The character Charlie is a fun uncle who has paraded a string of bimbos through his nephew’s life, and eventually started dating a smart, competent woman. The real Charlie is a father who has paraded a string of bimbos through his children's lives, and the smartest woman he’s dated in that span has been Denise Richards, and he now lives with a porn actresses and a fetish model.
- The Middle East. It’s still happening.
- Rehab only works if you’re willing to admit your brain is fucked up, and are willing to surrender to the process and let someone else advise you (either 12 stepping it, or a sober living coach, or a trained medical professional) until such time as your brain is healed enough that you are capable of making decisions on your own. Being an arrogant ass is an impediment to the process.
- Of course you don’t think you’re manic depressive. You take coke when you’re down and booze when you’re up. It’s called self medicating. Now that you’re clean, you’re brain isn’t able to cope and you are spinning like pinwheel in a hurricane.
- I didn’t miss the Chaim Levine thing. On the naughty chair with Galliano!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Charlie Sheen's Heart of Darkness
There are a few things I’d like to get straight about the whole Charlie “Deepwater Horizon” Sheen environmental disaster.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Inside the bubble, no on can hear you rave
You know, the run of celebrities saying junk in public (Galliano, who loves Hitler; Sheen who is a high priest, Vatican assassin warlock; and Everybody Loves Muammar Gadafi), you just start to wonder how really, really, seriously thick the celebrity bubble is.
Cause, you and me, even if we did love Hitler, and we don’t, we’d have enough common sense to know that there aren’t too many rooms in the Western world where that particular statement plays. You should pick your crowd if you’re gonna blow anti-Semitic (and you shouldn't). Not while pawing a female cop in Malibu, and not while in a restaurant in Paris. It will get out.
Not that I’ve never been drunk and heard my mouth saying things that my brain did not authorize. But that’s more like telling somebody I work with that they have really pretty eyes (or something, you know, not that I would have said anything embarrassing like that, or started crying immediately after). And even if I loved Hitler (which I DON’T), I could down a bottle of Jack and still keep a lid on that bad boy in front of strangers. It’s a conditioned response. You keep the crazy on the inside unless you’re around people who love you and would go to their grave with their mouths zipped about your crazy.
But, if you’re lucky, you have 2 or maybe 3 of those people who guard your crazy secrets. Evidently, there were enough people keeping Galliano’s psychobabble on the down low inside his celebribubble that he thought everybody would just not mention the Hitler thing if he got soused and blurted it out. Same with Sheen. How many people have been standing between him and TMZ for so long that he no longer can tell which things should not be said in the outside voice?
I guess the lesson is not to get so hammered, or smoke so much Charlie Sheen, or well, I don’t know what Gadafi’s excuse is that you don’t know when you are inside your bubble or not. Especially when you’re at an office Christmas party, drinking tequila sunrises and talking to a co-worker with really pretty eyes. Seriously. Cause once the tequila starts talking, you can’t whistle that stuff back. Even if it doesn’t end up on TMZ.
Cause, you and me, even if we did love Hitler, and we don’t, we’d have enough common sense to know that there aren’t too many rooms in the Western world where that particular statement plays. You should pick your crowd if you’re gonna blow anti-Semitic (and you shouldn't). Not while pawing a female cop in Malibu, and not while in a restaurant in Paris. It will get out.
Not that I’ve never been drunk and heard my mouth saying things that my brain did not authorize. But that’s more like telling somebody I work with that they have really pretty eyes (or something, you know, not that I would have said anything embarrassing like that, or started crying immediately after). And even if I loved Hitler (which I DON’T), I could down a bottle of Jack and still keep a lid on that bad boy in front of strangers. It’s a conditioned response. You keep the crazy on the inside unless you’re around people who love you and would go to their grave with their mouths zipped about your crazy.
But, if you’re lucky, you have 2 or maybe 3 of those people who guard your crazy secrets. Evidently, there were enough people keeping Galliano’s psychobabble on the down low inside his celebribubble that he thought everybody would just not mention the Hitler thing if he got soused and blurted it out. Same with Sheen. How many people have been standing between him and TMZ for so long that he no longer can tell which things should not be said in the outside voice?
I guess the lesson is not to get so hammered, or smoke so much Charlie Sheen, or well, I don’t know what Gadafi’s excuse is that you don’t know when you are inside your bubble or not. Especially when you’re at an office Christmas party, drinking tequila sunrises and talking to a co-worker with really pretty eyes. Seriously. Cause once the tequila starts talking, you can’t whistle that stuff back. Even if it doesn’t end up on TMZ.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)