Still Got That Sheen

Over time—probably not much time, mind you, the way things are going—I imagine every single semi-interested individual and their pop culture-savvy dog will have had a chance to weigh in on the topic of the personal comings and goings of one Charles Sheen, AKA Carlos Irwin Estevez—brother to Emilio, son to Martin, star of exactly two Hot Shots! films as well as that number plus a half in sitcom men on TV, self-proclaimed 'winner,' and owner and/or operator of someone or something having to do with tiger's blood. I likely didn't need to list all of that and you were already well fucking aware of whom I was speaking. And you may have already had your say about Mr. Sheen, as I expect everyone will by the end. In observing that eventuality, I write this now to fulfill my obligations thereof.

It's like he knew all along - Charlie Sheen as a coked-out
bad boy in 1986's Ferris Bueller's Day Off

Here's the thing: I don't understand what the big deal is. I really don't. Maybe I haven't really been paying close enough attention. I don't watch Two and a Half Men—for that matter, I haven't really watched anything with Charlie Sheen (not even interviews concerning his involvement in the 9/11 Truth Movement, which should have been an amusing diversion) since I saw Hot Shots! Part Deux in the early 90s. Before Charles recently did whatever it is he did that has everyone transfixed I was most definitely not what you would call an invested party in the life and times of the artist formerly known as Carlos Irwin. And I'm still not. I still don't care.

I knew he was married once, or maybe twice, to Denise Richards—herself but a minor blip on the radar, even for those who saw Wild Things 13 years ago. I knew he'd been and out of rehab a few times. So what? Are there any celebrities who haven't been in and out of rehab a few times? Show me one—that's a fucking story.

And therein lies the source of my confusion. At the end of the day, Charlie Sheen is just another famous face who fucked up. The way his name and the one or two-word particulars of his transgressions are punchlined about, the number of tweets devoted to him, the volume of mentions he gets in late night monologues, the ink spent printing stories about him in entertainment publications, his complete dominance of the internet—you'd think Charles was the first star to ever drop his pants when he shouldn't have. Not quite.The Charlie Sheen saga is in reality just one 'story' in a closed system of ongoing bloopers and fuck-ups. Focus too much on him and you'll miss out on the rest of the world of celebrity circus idiocy that inexorably continues to turn. Just last week, for example: aspiring trainwreck Christina Aguilera and her doofus boyfriend spent the night in the drunk tank after being pulled over for driving under the influence; also drunk—again—was Jessica Simpson, who looks so bad it's almost scary. But Simpson and Aguilera are only doing their part to fulfill the Blonde Female Celebrity Fuck-Up/Train Wreck quota; there are certainly others from this past week, some of which luckily (or maybe not so luckily) didn't make it to press. Through the years the famous have demonstrated their incredible talent at, if nothing else, achieving stupidity of monumental proportions, and so many of them do it you could make a career of trying to document their so-called mistakes (an entire industry do, in fact). Charlie Sheen is just one man at one point in time in a ever-expanding jungle of shitshow.

He's not even very innovative, if you ask me. To my knowledge, he is stumbling his way along a path previously forged, and forged well. Trashed hotel? Johnny Depp says hello. Mountains of drugs? Robert Downey Jr. knows more about that than any celebrity ever has or will. (Depp knows a little about it too.) Raunchy trysts with white trash girls? Mel Gibson berates and beats the shit out of his. And as for publicly-televised delusions, well, in my books Tom Cruise's batshit crazy antics courtesy of airtime with Oprah Winfrey and Matt Lauer are pretty tough to top.

Charlie Sheen is certainly loving this whole farce. How could he not? He's getting so much exposure and publicity it won't matter if the golden goose Two and a Half Men goes under for good. Two to three million an episode—who needs it? Sheen is right about one thing: he's in the driver's seat. Everyone patting themselves on the back for their clever digs and clever 'winning' references should take pause and consider that perhaps the person who's really laughing is the supposed butt of the joke himself. It's not like we're all sitting in a room together making fun of the guy behind his back. Sheengate has become too much and too public a phenomenon. Charlie Sheen knows full well what's up, and he's joining the fun, if he didn't organize the party to begin with. Kind of difficult to take pride in mocking someone who's benefitting from the mockery. You have to think every one of Charlie Sheen's 2 million-plus Twitter followers has some financial equivalent.

So, yeah, I don't know the whole Charlie Sheen story. But if that means the joke isn't on me, I'm fine with that. Especially until we know who it's really supposed to be on. Maybe it's everyone. I guess I'll get in line.