Emilio Estevez: I Would Contact Charlie and Offer to Help Him but I Don't Have Fifty-Cents for the Pay Phone. Hey, Man, You Got Fifty-Cents? A Quarter?

Wait - Am I the Only Person Who Thinks Charlie Sheen is Being Completely Reasonable? Oh, Okay . . . Awkward.

Look, America, come over here for a minute. Put down that doughnut and that cheeseburger and . . . wait, why do you have both? No! Bad America! No! Don't press them together to form a doughnutburger! Stop it! Put it down! Okay . . . Now come over here and take a seat next to Uncle Nate.

Sigh . . . here it goes . . . I'm going to try to break this too you as nicely as I can.  America: You suck. You suck a lot. A lot a lot. If sucking were horses then you would . . . well, I guess you would all ride horses. Is that how the saying goes? I'll look into that later.

But it's okay, America. I suck too. We all suck. We all work soul-sucking jobs. We're all cowed by some asshole boss because we didn't get that spreadsheet done in time for the morning meeting.  We all go home to a spouse who can't stand us and a kids who don't respect us. We're all going to be completely forgotten by absolutely everyone twenty years after we've been put in the ground at a sparsely attended funeral. It's okay America; you tried your best. You tried your best and you failed. Now go grab that pint of ice cream from the freezer and sit in the tub and cry for a while as you shove 8,000 calories of Cherry Garcia down your gullet. I'll wait.

Feel better yet? Good.

Do you want to know who doesn't work a shitty job? Who isn't going to be forgotten when he's gone? Who sleeps on a pile of money and models in a mansion, the garage of which is bigger than any house you've ever rented?

Charlie Fucking Sheen, that's who.

So what if Charlie's going to suffer a crack-induced stroke at some point? America, you're going to die at 53 when that McNugget currently logged in your artery finally breaks loose and makes its way to your heart.

Let's say you're George Clooney. Fine, you're allowed to roll off of the Italian model du jour and tell Charlie Sheen that he needs to get his shit together. I'm okay with that. Also, George, could you open a new browser on your iPad right now and send me an email? Let's hang out. Can you teach me how to do that thing where you make your chin do that little shuffle when you're talking to a chick? I want that move.

Anyway, if you're one of the vast majority of Americans who isn't George Clooney, then put your stone down. Take a long, hard look in the mirror. Do you like what you see? Of course you don't. So let the Sheen-man be. He isn't hurting anybody.  Except maybe his family and obviously himself. And he did shoot Kelly Preston but that was a long time ago. And he probably slaps around the occasional call girl, but who hasn't, right? Okay, maybe he actually hurts a lot of people. But he does it with a little thing I like to call class. Which is more than I can say about you, America.

The New Radiohead Album Reviewed!

Dueling Headlines

It's About F'ing Time!

Biden announces $53 billion high-speed rail plan

http://www.cnn.com/2011/POLITICS/02/08/biden.rail.network/index.html


I've been advocating something like this for years.  Years!  Look: The United States is a big place.  A VERY big place.  I live in Portland, Oregon, all nestled away there in the northwest part of the country.  Let's say I want to go to someplace like, I don't know, St. Louis, Missouri.  Without high-speed rail, my options are limited to one of three modes of transportation:

(1) Traveling across the country via motorized carriage.

(2) Traveling to the coast and boarding a ocean liner, then traveling down the West Coast and through the Panama Canal, then up through the Gulf of Mexico to Louisiana, then boarding a ferry to take me up the Mississippi River to St. Louis.

(3) Hot air balloon.

That's it!  Just those three options, none of which are satisfactory.  Imagine if I could board a high-speed train and arrive in St. Louis in only twelve to fifteen hours.  Twelve to fifteen hours!  What a world that would be!  Imagine waking up in Portland, Oregon and then going to sleep that very night in St. Louis Missouri.  Imagine it!  Right now!  I'll wait . . .

. . .

. . .


Good!  Such a strange and wonderful world of the future!  I just hope I live long enough to see it.

Also, since we're talking about the future: What's the deal with that trip to Mars that Pres. Bush was talking about like seven years ago?  How's that going?  Well, I hope?  Do we have, like, a spaceship designed and everything?  Can I see it?  What's that?  I can't hear you; you're mumbling.  Hey!  Where are you going?  Stop walking away from me!  Hey!  Come back!

This Week In . . . Cooper / Calories / Castration

 

Anderson Cooper attacked in Cairo

http://www.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/africa/02/02/egypt.journalists.attacked/index.html?


That's so strange.  I figured that Egyptians would unequivocally love a homosexual American who is the son of an incredibly wealthy heiress.  Aren't those all things Egyptians love?  Homosexual?  American?  Mother inherited more money than God?  Isn't that the trifecta of things that Egyptians love?  For example, if you and I were playing The $100,000 Pyramid, and you said to me: "Homosexuals.  Americans.  Homosexual Americans.  Mother's father died and left her a massive fortune which she spent on skyscrapers and gold statues and other affronts to God,"  I would reply, "Things Egyptians love?"  Then you would scream and clap and we would embrace.  But now?  Now my world has been turned upside down.

Hugh Jackman eats 6,000 calories a day for 'The Wolverine"

Yeah, so does every single American.  Every.  Single.  One.  I'm not impressed.

Model pleads not guilty in corkscrew castration, murder

http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2011/02/01/us_hotel_castration_slaying/index.html

Are there any two words in the English language that belong together less than "corkscrew" and "castration?"  I'm taking suggestions.

She's 93 Fucking Years Old!

Husband says Zsa Zsa Gabor ill after surgery

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/41373613/ns/today-entertainment/

Gabor, whose 94th birthday is Sunday, ate breakfast then started spitting up blood and was running the fever, von Anhalt said.

"She doesn't know what is going on. She has no memories. It could come back but the doctor doesn't know yet," van Anhalt said.

Doctors told him the only explanation for her failed memory was that she had a small stroke during the amputation.

I have another explanation for the failed memory.  Wait one second . . .

[puts on medical coat and stethoscope]

SHE'S 93 FUCKING YEARS OLD!

This sounds like one of the situations where you just have to let a person go.  Also, future people, please note: This only pertains to Zsa Zsa.  In the event that I'm 93 and in failing health, I request that every attempt be made, no matter how unreasonable or costly, to keep me alive until technology reaches the point at which my mind can be uploaded into some sort of computer or cyborg.  Preferably one of those Terminator cyborgs from Terminator 2 that can do that thing where they turn into liquid metal and regenerate and the such.  That was awesome.