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Tuesday, March 08, 2011

All Sorts of Crazy

Instead of focusing on important stuff like rising gas prices, revolutions, plague, hatred, and war the media is obsessed with every bit of “wisdom” spewing forth from volcano mouth Charlie Sheen. And the shit he’s spewing is all sorts of crazy.

I was bangin' seven-gram rocks and finishing them because that's how I roll, because I have one speed, one gear.

I'm different. I have a different constitution, I have a different brain, I have a different heart. I got tiger blood, man. Dying's for fools, dying's for amateurs.

I'm tired of pretending I'm not special. I'm tired of pretending I'm not a total freaking rock star from Mars.

Uhh... Winning!

Why is the media so obsessed with a drug and alcohol and sex addict who obviously is in desperate need of mental help, and why do we sit glued to our televisions and our computer monitors watching him self-destruct before our very eyes?

We seem to get a perverse joy watching someone succeed and then slowly crumble and disintegrate. It makes great fodder for water cooler conversations, gossip rags, the news media, and blogging (oops!). It helps us feel better about ourselves, and our non-celebrity lives.

I don’t know Charlie, though I have known a few Charlies in my day and what they don’t need is the media encouraging them to speak out, act out, and totally freak out. They need an intervention, hospitalization, and recovery.

In less than a year, after the crazy has subsided, we’ll most likely be asking “Where’s Charlie?” and hopefully it’s not gonna be a R.I.P. kind of answer.

Brittany seems to have recovered (thank goodness), Lindsay’s still out of control, and Charlie’s well... uhh.... losing.

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