imagine my voice saying these words; then take another xanax.

back breaker.

hello! mission: throw out most of the kbp’s (kid-by-proxy) toys is now accomplished! you wouldn’t believe the shit that kid’s got down there, holy moly.  i threw out almost thirty bags of stuff.  hence, now my back is broken.  oops.

so the real purpose for this post, though, is about joaquin phoenix.  holy shit, dude.  what the fuck is wrong with him?  i don’t watch letterman, or the news, but even i know about the angry, bearded, strung out and/or possibly relapsed (when i say possibly, i mean fucking drunk) j-quin talking smack on late night television.  here’s the thing:

hi. you’re a fucking actor. you even won some awards! you make a hojillion dollars doing same. people like you! i know your brother died tragically, and for that i am truly sorry. even america is sorry! obama to joaquin: “yes you can! but i’m still sorry.” but dude! what the fuck are you doing to yourself? isn’t anyone your friend in the whole wide world? you know, someone to be like, “look j, you need some serious counseling, not a fucking rap album, ok? i understand being an actor can be lonely and isolating, but you need to, i don’t know, figure out a GOOD way to deal with that (counseling) instead of becoming the laughing stock of hollywood.  cool? no? great.  can you give me reese witherspoon’s number before you kill yourself?”

ps: TAKE OFF YOUR FUCKING SUNGLASSES.

isn’t there anybody who knows him and likes him? it’s like the real problem isn’t this “oh woe is me, i’m all fucked up and an actor!” it’s that all the people closest to those people are fucking out for themselves and greedy as fuck, so they just go get them a rap album or another liter of johnny walker blue or a macy’s day parade balloon of heroin, and laugh hysterically to themselves rolling in their paychecks and hoping to use the same toilet paris hilton used that one time, while in the next suite over their actor-boss is talking to satan on the telephone and asking him whether to slit his wrists or jump off the balcony.

and i shudder to even imagine what it’s going to be like when the pitt-jolie children grow up, even though i like them.  brad pitt, in his own words, “doesn’t know how to use a computer.”  what? why not? the fucking president can use a blackberry, my own MOTHER, who couldn’t find her way out of the state of ohio if her life depended on it, even equipped with a gps system, knows how to open an attachment!  and what about suri cruise? fuck me. i will be crying every time i go to the supermarket and have to see the headlines: “SURI CRUISE MARRIES THETAN PRINCE!”

do i feel bad for these people? i do, in ways. we have created our own superheroes and given them absolutely no powers at all.