The ultimate fate of Charlie Sheen

I don’t give a damn about Charlie Sheen. For all I care, he can drop in on Chuck Manson at Corcoran and commiserate about the effects of lost influence—Manson will ratchet his glinting shrike’s eye over Sheen’s adam’s apple and wish for a pair of pinking shears. Charlie Sheen can  stare at timorous apprentice chefs through night vision goggles as they prepare organic thimerosal-free potato pancakes for Jenny McCarthy. Jenny ought to be locked up in a deep cover North Korean maggot-gruel joint, not some soft Martha Stewart resort like the one Gibbs calls “Camp Cupcake.” Charlie can paddle a dinghy out past the 200 mile limit and cast his powder keg mindscape along the herring gull’s path and peer intently at the anemic krill below. He can enter a convenience store with a note and leave on a stretcher after an elderly woman decides she’s had enough self-infatuated putty-minded tough-guy-with-the-ladies stupidity for one day. Those purses are loaded with Eisenhower dollars.


Charlie can enhance his home rehab with sandpaper self-abuse, he can form a Dixie Mafia wannabe club with Gibson and Busey, he might kidnap mini schnauzers and lose money on the Cowboys-Vikings game and maybe go up against George Kennedy and stick his head up after getting fooled by a bad turkey imitation. Or he can have Don Meredith smear peanut butter on his license and eat it. I don’t care what the hell he does, as long as I don’t have to see his smarmy ass (or face) on a news update in the middle of a TV show I'm enjoying. Fade away, Charlie. Become as insensate as you are insensitive to the rights of others. Either that, or grow a pair and demonstrate a conscience. Eleven Mary Six, call the station.
  
                                    

© Pseudocognitive

Charlie Sheen and Mike Huckabee, hellraisers and life-breakers

See this vehicle? I’m betting its primary purpose is to make people think it’s some kind of cop car. I don’t have to point out the features that would fool some people–there they are, right in front of you. The telltale aspects of its phoniness are there as well, although they may be harder to spot in this crappy camera phone picture. My point is that this is a vehicle of deception.

I took the liberty of deciding that Charlie Sheen and Mike Huckabee arrived together in this vehicle and were inside the supermarket when I snapped this shot. Charlie drove, of course. He drove with a mania few can appreciate unless they’ve witnessed or experienced it first hand. He shoved that car with an urgency of hurt, slicing and bludgeoning his way through traffic, following old wheel ruts left a century and a half ago by foolhardy citizens who ate their neighbors’ thighs and tender parts. Mike rode shotgun, chuckling at Charlie’s wild persistence at plowing the latest road to Hell. Mike traffics in the idea of Hell. He’s a master of it, and Charlie is his pilot on personal retainer. It’s a perfect match.


Next: Mike and Charlie run for office.




© Pseudocognitive