So, you can’t swing a dead bag of cocaine in this town without hitting some story about Charlie Sheen and his drug problems. Well, I don’t know if “problems” is the right word, because he sure as hell doesn’t see his current situation as a problem. If anything, he’s been liberated from the twin specters of responsibility and sanity, and he’s been a bit vocal about celebrating this liberation.
I got magic and I got poetry at my fingertips and I’m, y’ know, most of the time — and this includes naps — I am an F-18, bro, and I will destroy you in the air and I will deploy my ordnance to the ground.
Spoken totally like a not-wacked-out-on-goofballs man in full control of his thoughts. He’s a jet, and he’ll blow you up for your crimes, executive producer of “Two and a Half Men.” You have been warned.
(Incidentally, I love the “and this includes naps” part. Like he doesn’t want us to think his magic and poetry stop simply because he’s sleeping. But, then, he doesn’t say “sleep.” He says “naps.” Meaning that it does stop between 4:30am and 1:15pm when he sleep-sleeps, but not during a siesta?
And honestly, has this man slept in a while? I doubt it.)
But become an F-18 he has, and he has deployed his ordnance all over his career, forcing an early end for 2.5 Men’s season (and possibly the whole show). Meanwhile, Sheen has responded reasonably, essentially calling for Chuck Lorre’s head, demanding payment for the shows he didn’t tape and caused to be cancelled, and just for shits, threatening to sue everyone on Earth not named “Charlie Sheen” or “Vivid Video girl” for $320 million.
I see all of this on the news: the quotes, the threats, the batshit-crazy interviews, his new Skeletor look, the tattoo. I originally thought that Sheen was on his way to an early grave, but I had an epiphany yesterday morning that helped explain all of it.
CHARLIE SHEEN IS BATMAN.
Go with me on this.
As shown in the two Nolan films, Bruce Wayne has adopted the public persona of “spoiled asshole” so as to throw off people’s suspicions. Who would believe that a man who does nothing but step out on the town with lingerie models and scream around the city in a Lamborghini was actually the Caped Crusader? Who would consider the man who took an entire Russian ballet troupe to an impromptu island vacation as a candidate for the world’s greatest vigilante?
Snorting, is what I meant.
Look, it’s a crazy theory, but Sheen is a crazy man. A crazy, drug-addicted, unfiltered, sex-crazed, skull-faced, out-of-touch, possibly smelly man. A man whom Amy Winehouse probably thinks has taken it too far. But Los Angeles’ crime kingpins will never know what hit them. And by now, is it that unreasonable to think Sheen is running around the city at midnight in a bat costume? He’s probably been doing that for years; he just never stopped any robberies before.
I could never understand how a man like Charlie Sheen – flush with ill-gotten money, fame, and pure, uncut China White – would piss everything away like he has lately. But now I get it. He’s doing this for the greater good. He’ll do it because he can take it. He’s not the washed-up sitcom star we need, but the one we deserve. He is a (not so) silent guardian, a watchful protector (of drugs). A dark knight.
Plus, with all his smoking, he’s got the Batman voice down.