So, yeah. I went to see Charlie Sheen last week. By myself. In Everett, WA. The reason I went to see Charlie Sheen wasn’t because I like Charlie Sheen, it was because my bosses decided that I needed to go see Charlie Sheen and write about Charlie Sheen and maybe destroy Charlie Sheen the way I maybe destroyed Gallagher a little bit. The reason I went by myself to Charlie Sheen was that Charlie Sheen refused to do any press comps on this tour (he “hates the press”—hahaha, right), and tickets to Charlie Sheen cost $50, and the aforementioned bosses declined to pay an extra $50 just so that I would have a hand to hold while watching Charlie Sheen. The reason it was in Everett was because it’s Charlie Sheen. Was he going to play Benaroya? Please.
Now, I know I’m just mad at Everett because it happens to be the setting of my recent traumatic full-body Sheening. So please forgive me—I know it’s not Everett’s fault. BUT SERIOUSLY, EVERETT, OH MY GOD. Every business in Everett is either a bail bondsman or a Dairy Queen. Or a rape alley. Every moment spent in Everett feels like you’re in an episode of The First 48. I texted my friend about this and he wrote back: “Yup, the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen was in Everett. It was an 11-year-old girl practicing stripper moves on a pole holding up the canopy of a bail bond office.” REALLY? HOW LONG AGO WAS THAT BECAUSE I HEAR UNCLE CHARLIE IS IN THE MARKET FOR A NEW “GODDESS.”
Anyway, it took me until today to write about the show because there’s really nothing to say. Charlie Sheen is the most boring man on earth. The Charlie Sheen meme was entertaining for the first six hours after it happened—before Charlie Sheen learned about the Charlie Sheen meme and turned it into his one-man Withered Blowhard Catchphrase Jamboree. The WBCJ was held at the Comcast Arena, a 10,000-seat venue that was a little less than half-full. In case you’re not a mathemagician like me, a little less than half of 10,000 people is still a fuckton of people—people who somehow aren’t tired of listening to their creepy, addled uncle spout his same four self-aggrandizing uncle-jokes over and over. Many of these people wanted to show Uncle Charlie their tits (and they did).
Oh, you mean I can sit in a room and have a delusional drug-addict blowhard yell in my face for two hours about all the excuses for why his asshole boss fired him? DUDE, THAT’S CALLED A FAMILY REUNION.
Uncle Charlie, these people are not your fans. They are laughing at you. Also, you are terrible. Please stop talking and go take a nap. You’re scaring the dog.
Be fair to Everett. Where would all the strippers come from to fill those strip clubs and go on MTV if there wasn’t an Everett!! And yes, Charlie is very, very , very, long in the tooth now and he really needs to go back to work so he can get his makeup done again! He looks frightful. And yes, I also once wanted to have his child at one point in my adolescent, I think bad guys are cool phase.
Way to pick the low-hanging fruit.
when i lived in seattle, everything the idiotic lindy west barfed out all over the city would regularly drive me into a rage. from a distance, i’m able to take a more philosophic stance. if lindy west’s relentlessly inane prattle about the things that matter the least in the world is the price we have to pay for brendan kiley’s real work, then so be it.
@winning.hashtag.com
I think the Mercury’s writers suck pretty uniformly. Not Lindy West though. I find her pieces smart and original and funny. She doesn’t pass off generic snark peppered with allegedly obscure references as humor. She actually seems to have a talent for humor writing.
I have no idea who she is (I had to surf a bit to find out if “Lindy” was a woman or man), but I’d like to read more by her.