So. Charlie Sheen.
I have been known to be quite a Twitter connoisseur. If you follow me (@alysamarsiella), you can see I love to Tweet, and indeed, I had a bit of a freakout during this past weekend’s Oscar telecast. I’m calling it the “2011 Oscar Night Twitter Meltdown.” I believe I got a bit nuts and I do apologize (I believe one of my finer moments was frantically typing “F##K YOU RANDY NEWMAN” when his song beat the one from Tangled for Best Song). But I’m pretty sure me freaking out over Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law’s undeniable bromantic chemistry is a hell of a lot more soberly satisfying than watching the meltdown of one of Hollywood’s most promising stars.
I was first aware of Charlie Sheen in the Major League films, and I thought he was a goodlooking, charismatic, funny guy. I had no idea his real name was Carlos Estevez, or that he was Gordon Bombay’s younger brother. (For the tragically unhip, Gordon Bombay -> Emilio Estevez). Then I saw one of his earliest appearances as a young criminal who makes out with Jennifer Grey in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Even with circles under his eyes and a cracked out appearance, I thought he was still very goodlooking and had a good sense of comic timing. One of my favorite lines from that movie (“You wear a lot of eye makeup. My sister wears a lot of eye makeup. People think she’s a whore”) comes from Mr. Sheen.
When the whole thing with Heidi Fleiss happened, I wasn’t exactly paying attention. I was at the impressionable age where I thought a hooker was something you threw to a fish. Then he got married to Denise Richards and they seemed genuinely happy, and despite starring in one of the shittiest shows on television (apologies to everyone who likes Two and a Half Men. All four of you.), he seemed as if he was getting his life together. I wished him well and moved on.
And now look at him.
Aside from the fact that people have seemed to forgot he held a knife to his wife’s throat, they are actively participating in one of Hollywood’s greatest tragedies.
I think of Charlie Sheen as the Britney Spears of 2011, back when Britney was clubbing with Paris Hilton and shaving her head. Everyone was throwing shade at Britney, laughing hysterically, and I thought to myself “This girl needs help or she is going to die.”
Which is why I won’t watch any interview Charlie Sheen does or follow him on his Twitter, despite his new record as the fastest person to ever get to 1,000,000 followers. People are dying of laughter, reposting the things he says and hashtags (#tigerblood and #WINNING being main among them), and once again, I think to myself, “This person is going to die.”
Hollywood loves a comeback story, but I’m pretty sure this is not the comeback they had in mind for Charlie Sheen. This is a comedown. This is a full scale meltdown. We are witnessing the implosion of a mind for public consumption, and the public is eating it like vultures after an ambush.
The difference between Britney Spears and Charlie Sheen is that Britney has a family that roped her in, got her straightened out, and rehabbed her career. You would think President Bartlet would be doing something right about now, but the fact of the matter is, Charlie’s 45 years old. Britney was 26 when her meltdown happened, and young enough for her father to retain a conservatorship over her, making sure she would be protected and watched.
The number one problem I have with both cases is that children are involved. Britney had an almost-newborn son and a 1 and a half year old son. Charlie Sheen has twin boys who are barely under the age of two, and two girls with Denise Richards. Jayden and Preston Federline seemed to have adjusted since Britney’s meltdown. But I walked into my family room the other day and watched on Extra! as Sheen’s children were forcibly taken away from him. And my heart broke.
Charlie doesn’t require a conservator. He requires a padded cell.
Instead of a family unit to surround himself with, what does he have? Two girlfriends he calls ‘Goddesses’. One of whom is a porn star. I don’t mind that she’s a porn star so much as I mind that she’s a working porn star. And he spends the time he should be using getting his children back and his life in order doing what? Drinking chocolate milk, ranting on Twitter about how he goes down on five girls at once, exploiting his ex-wife, and systematically ruining his career, if he really had any to begin with.
Craig Ferguson, my favorite late-night talk show host-and indeed, one of my favorite people on planet Earth-has come out to say he will not make fun of Sheen anymore, comparing it to the 1800s British tradition of going to Bedlam Hospital and paying a nickel to look at the mentally ill through a peephole. Craig Ferguson, as some of you may know, spent the majority of the 1980s as a drunk and junkie and has spent nearly the last 20 years clean and sober. He talks about his struggles in his autobiography American On Purpose: The Confessions of an Unlikely Patriot and after reading his story I respect the hell out of him. When Craig Ferguson, who had the balls to make fun of his boss David Letterman after his sex scandal, says you’re too sad and mentally ill to make fun of anymore? Then you know you have a problem. He also stopped making fun of Britney Spears after she shaved her head. “She’s 25 years old. She’s a baby,” he admonished his audience.
Charlie Sheen isn’t a baby, but he’s sure as hell acting like one. He’s a 45 year old manchild who has had plenty of chances to grow up. It’s time we left him alone and let him do that.
Let’s get our minds off of people who are seriously mentally ill and delusional and focus our efforts on other areas that truly need our attention.
In conclusion…where is Duckie when you need him? Come on, Jon Cryer. Get on this and fix it. Team Duckie.
Oh, and “tiger blood”? Sorry, Sheen. Brian Fantana did it better with Sex Panther. It’s made from bits of real panther. So you know it’s good…
is it obvious, by the way, that I’m going through a humongous Craig Ferguson appreciation phase?