I will freely admit, and you can search this blog’s archives to confirm it, that I idolize Charlie Sheen. The man positively has it all.
But enough is enough, Charlie. And Silvio. And Galliano.
It was bad enough when you were simply bad boys: men at the zenith of their careers, with women draped all over them, parties, fame, power, and more drugs than Steven Tyler has snorted in his lifetime (to date). But you guys are taking it completely over the rainbow.
How the hell are ordinary men supposed to feel when presented with the weekend antics of just one of the above-named conspirators?
Sure, anyone can go out and tie one on – but it takes a polished and particularly polluted Frenchman to stand up in a bar and announce that `your parents should have been gassed‘ and `I love Hitler‘. It takes an even more stupid Frenchman to countersue, claiming the facts as he remembers them don’t match up with the video of him saying those things.
BUT WHAT OF BERLUSCONI?
Silvio Berlusconi, Italy’s Prime Minister (aka Penis-in-Chief) has gotten himself embroiled in rather a sticky situation. The list of women Silvio has been through looks like a Who’s Who of all that is strikingly beautiful and feminine. There’s a flavor there for every man (and some women).
The latest of Silvio’s poorly-handled bungles is alleged to involve underage `bunga-bunga girls‘ in private parties at his home and elsewhere.
Now you tell me how the average American guy is supposed to keep up with a seventy-four year old Premier who gets down with stunning models. And then appears at the Vatican with the number two man there. Doesn’t the Vatican have enough trouble on its hands without a Visiting Randy Ruler? On the other hand, perhaps he’s trying to secure a career post-Premier.
BUT SERIOUSLY, CHARLIE…
Yes, it’s kinda funny that you’re suing CBS for three hundred twenty million for emotional distress. I’m sure we all wish you well in that endeavour. Your publicist has flown the coop, probably because he can’t possibly defend you from your apparently sober ranting. I dunno – it sure sounds drug-addled.
MY UNREASONABLE ACCUSATION
So, like the women who won’t take responsibility for their self-image, I (and the rest of the males on earth who aren’t Steven Tyler) wish to foist blame upon you – Charlie, Silvio, and John, for making life hell for the rest of us. We can’t afford porn stars, vats of cocaine, models, enough alcohol to love Hitler, or even bunga-bunga girls.
Maybe we need to return to the days of President Kennedy, when the White House had a revolving door for actresses and whores, and he’d bang them til the sun came up. Quietly.
Ted Kennedy, at age twenty nine, rented an entire brothel for the night in Santiago, Chile. That that, Harry Reid!
It’s time to go now. I have to get out my ancient copy of the Yellow Pages and figure out how to look up bunga-bunga girls.