By Jeff Girod
Charlie Sheen is dead! Dead tired that is, after appearing on every possible TV talk show to bash CBS, calling the creator of Two and Half Men a “retarded zombie,” and repeatedly trying to prove that he’s 100-percent sober and tar heroin-free while shacking up with two porn stars, starting his own Internet talk show, waving a machete in public and getting fired from the highest rated sitcom on television.
Highest rated? Really? So I guess I’m the only one watching Tyler Perry’s House of Payne . . .
Said Sheen, “I’m tired of pretending like I’m not bitching, a total freaking rock star from Mars . . . I have a different brain. I have a different heart. I got tiger blood, man.”
Of course when Sheen said all this he was completely naked, slathered in Crisco and feasting off the alien flesh of the Today show’s Matt Lauer. (At least I prefer to imagine it that way.)
More Sheen: “Yeah. I’m on a drug—it’s called Charlie Sheen. It’s not available because if you try it, you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body.”
Sadly, my HMO won’t cover a prescription for the drug Charlie Sheen, but it does offer a generic version called Stephen Baldwin.
Nice of Charlie Sheen to suddenly take the “high” road after eight seasons of cashing seven-digit paychecks for delivering dick jokes that would make a one-note hack like Dane Cook cringe. Hey, Charlie, I don’t see how any of this is compromising your artistic integrity. They were paying you $1.8 million for 22 minutes of your time. And let’s be honest, Hamlet it ain’t. Hell, it wasn’t even Becker.
I’ve seen Two and Half Men and it was hardly an acting stretch for you. The fat kid and the skinny gay roommate did all the heavy lifting. Heavy lifting? I’ve seen bar coasters with more range. You played a womanizing alcoholic who stumbles around in an open bathrobe all day drinking gin and tonics. Your character on the show was named Charlie. If they’d constructed the sofa out of cocaine and let you occasionally choke the housekeeper, they might as well have filmed the entire sitcom in your living room and called the other guy Emilio Estevez.
And let’s not forget, prior to this TV gig, you weren’t exactly stealing Oscar-worthy performances from Sean Penn and Tom Hanks. Before Two and a Half Man, let’s see here, you starred in such pinnacles of cinema as Terminal Velocity and Hot Shots! Part Deux. The only difference between you and C. Thomas Howell is a famous father and better taste in cabana shirts.
I’m not passing judgment on Sheen’s lifestyle. (OK, just a little.) But who doesn’t want to speedball ecstasy out of a Travelocity Gnome in a king-sized waterbed while five whores hop on you like a naked L.A. Sparks scrimmage? But, Charlie, let’s not bite the hand that bankrolls the vodka ice shot luges and table dances.
You were the highest paid actor on television. (I know. I just wrote that sentence and I can’t believe it either!) Never has one talentless man been rewarded for contributing so little to society—Dude, your sitcom is one of the only shows on TV that still has a laugh track. How desperate can you get? They were this close to getting a circus clown holding a painted sign that reads “Laugh Now!”
But nevertheless, we salute you, Charlie Sheen, for somehow screwing the system (and every D-list starlet, pharmaceuticals sales rep, Applebee’s bartender and golf course beverage cart girl in the Greater Los Angeles Valley) and earning untold millions of dollars for essentially not overdosing while sitting on your gold-plated toilet.
You had the easiest, luckiest job in the world, other than backup quarterback to Peyton Manning, and official taster at a rum and chocolate factory operated by big-breasted Norwegians. And now all that’s ruined.
You should’ve just said, “Thank you.” In the nation’s worst economy in almost a century, you should’ve kept your mouth shut and kept cashing those $2 million checks.
But you’re Charlie Sheen, man. You drink tiger blood! You’re all about “winning.” Hopefully they can work all that into Hot Shots! Part Trois.
Contact Jeff Girod at email@example.com.