That’s right, Al. You tell ‘em!
When I first saw this on television I thought the man was having a stroke a la Serene Branson this past February. But from the lack of follow-up coverage I’m assuming Al just flubbed his lines…
Friday Fact: Did you know that Al Sharpton once served as James Brown’s tour manager?
Charlie Sheen.
Here we have a man saying things that go against the conventional line of thinking in mass media. He isn’t hiding behind a thin veil of a political correctness, concerned about protecting his image or kowtowing to dissenting voices that proclaim him to be a ‘train wreck’ with the combined gusto of a flock of frightened ewes. Charlie’s mashing words, forming them into blunt objects of destruction, thumbing his nose at conventional wisdom and daring all naysayers to jump off the nearest tall building. His incoherent actions in an otherwise button-down straight-laced world are quizzical, entertaining, disturbing, and more than a little bit contrarian.
In his own way Charlie Sheen is fighting the power of a combined media that claims to know what’s best, and isn’t that what a vast majority of us wish we could do? Hell, songs have been written about this very idea. Now along comes Charlie Sheen, and he’s saying ‘outlandish’ things such as (and I’m paraphrasing here) “I know what’s best for me”, “I don’t agree with your solution”, and “I’m doing great in life, who are you to say otherwise?”
…and the media seems to have an issue with this.
He’s one man, with a well known substance abuse problem.
Knowing this I have to ask, if the media has such a negative opinion of a television actor, why are they so bunged up about his health and state of mind?
But that’s a rhetorical question now, isn’t it? This is just an example of an animal (the media) openly nursing a blood meal from a complacent host (Sheen). The end goal? Money, power, fame.
But wait, haven’t I been led to believe that money, power and fame are at the root or Charlie Sheen’s issues? Hmmm….
I guess, in the end, this is all just show business as usual. In a reality T.V. world it’s difficult to parse fact from fiction. Who’s playing a role and who isn’t. When is an actor not acting when the camera’s on…and if he’s not acting how are we to tell?
I say let the man talk. Let him have his non-sequiturs, his wordplay and his diatribes. The man’s got the nation in a Charlie Sheen fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell. No matter how much I might rail against such a public display of a supposed meltdown, I can’t argue with the lowest common denominator.
To quote Russell Crowe in The Gladiator, “Are you not entertained?”
Imagine my shock and horror when, late one night, I happened upon an infomercial that featured one of the most unlikely of pitchmen. But there we was, big as day and in full regalia, mohawk primped and perfect, gold chains around his neck, and sporting a “fresh out of the package” polo shirt. Aghast, I sat with wide, unbelieving eyes at my television, unable to comprehend the full meaning of it all. Mr. T, that beloved, illiterate icon of the 70′s and 80′s, had sold his soul to the infomercial gods, and was now hawking the latest in a long line of “as seen on TV” products that, according to the late Billy Mays, “no house and home can live without”.
I don’t know what upset me more; the fact that Mr. T was wearing an uncharacteristic button-down Polo shirt, or that he’s apparently half Klingon.
Mr. T, bought and paid for. This is something that goes against the very nature that is B.A. Baracus. Why, Mr. T…why?
Pitching the FlavorWave, which apparently can cook an entire turkey in 5 minutes, teach manners to your unruly children, and balance the national debt with the simple push of a button.
This miraculous product is brought to you by the good folks from the Cooking Club Of America, which is a scam of the highest order. From what I’ve read, these grifters charge members outrageous fees for “life-time memberships”, taking hundreds of dollars from you without your consent. Their aggressive, predatory practices are well recorded. If I were you, I’d stay as far away from anything having to do with the Cooking Club Of America. Unless, of course, you enjoy getting ripped off.
The traditional gold chains have been replaced with corporate marketing. Oh, Mr. T…look how far you’ve fallen.
And so, an icon falls. Next time, I’d do a bit of research just to see who you’re getting into bed with. Those shylocks from the Cooking Club Of America are nobody to mess with. Mr. T., IANAL, but I highly suggest that you review your contact with these people to ensure that they’re not going to burn you in some way or fashion. And get some better handlers…you know, somebody who has an ounce of sense and will steer you away from frauds like these.
Born in Kiev in 1902, immigrated to the United States in the 30′s, Nudie Cohn was intent on becoming a boxer, but through fate and circumstance he instead fell into tailoring. In the 40′s, Nudie and his wife Bobbie began making clothes out of their garage. So popular were their designs that soon movie stars and rock gods began to clamor for Nudie’s services.
Credited with being the first man to sew rhinestones on to clothes, his relentless self-promoting brought him to the attention of such acts as Elvis Presley, Hank Williams, Gram Parsons, ZZ Top, Wilco, and Roy Rogers. Ever the eccentric, Nudie would places stickers of his face on to dollar bills and give them away to those in need, stating, “when you get sick of looking at me, just rip it off and spend it!”
Nudie was also into cars, and with the help of GM he began to customize them in western motifs. Karin and I were fortunate enough to see a “Nudie Mobile” recently, and let me tell ya, this thing was intense; covered in silver dollars, decked out with rifles, handguns, and shotguns, and sporting a set of horns that would make any self-respecting steer blush, this is one car that’s impossible to ignore.
Karin and I were watching the excellent popcorn flick Independence Day, arguing the pros and cons of basing the defensive systems of a UFO mothership around a UNIX core, when this flashed on the screen:
If Woody Harrelson and Ted Danson ever got busy and made a love child together, I have every confidence that this would be the disastrous result.
