Memo to Charlie Sheen
Dear Mr. Sheen,
I’ve been authorized by the entire known universe to inform you that no one really gives the tiniest fraction of a shit anymore. Seriously. The only reason anyone’s still paying attention is the vicarious thrill of listening to a crackhead’s meandering rants without having to put up with the horrible smell(s) and general discomfort that would come with actual physical proximity. No one’s in your corner. You’re a kind of performing, methed-out poodle.
Dear press corps(e),
Stop giving this clown even so much as a few seconds of airtime or even so much as an inch of column space. Nations are falling, people are dying, the entire shape of the world as we know it is changing around us. The performing poodle’s assertion that he’s embroiled in some kind of righteous battle is laughable – and I’m trying to be charitable here, it’s actually somewhere between laughable and pitiful – when there are people in the world who are actually engaged in a struggle for their lives and freedom from tyranny.
I’m gonna say it again for everyone’s benefit: performing poodle. One who can’t even jump through a hoop anymore.… Read more
Attention, all snowflakes and ice occupying any portion of my property:
Little E already has his first invitation to a birthday party this weekend. Wow! This means his social calendar is 100% more busy than his dad’s. Apparently the theme of this shindig is going to be Batman, so there’s no telling what the boy wonder will get up to.
One of the things I do at work is to “prep” and check shows that will air later that night, the next day, etc. etc.; I also have other duties that occasionally mean I have to stop that task in its tracks and come back to it minutes later (or longer). If something urgent happens, I don’t even look at where I stop – I’ll just have to figure it out later. And when I come back to it later, it’s still sitting in the middle of the show I was working on, and I see something like this.