Death…by stereo (thanks summer!)

This is my last day of freedom. My kid will no longer be attending his school and I will be back on full time dad duty. More than ever, in fact, because he will be home every day and I’ll be that thin blue line that separates him from madness, tantrums and various light sockets. It’s a good thing my life is so empty and pointless, or else I’d have this feeling right now that the very last day to get anything done in my whole life was slowly slipping through my fingers and what was I doing with it? Blogging? For real? Sheesh. Like I said, good thing I’ve got nothing to do and nothing on the horizon.
So yeah, today is a sad day. Not because of my impending new job as full time dad, which hey, can be trying but is mostly pretty fun. No, today’s sad because the dignity of American celebrity infidelity was forever sullied this morning when Howard Stern had Tiger Woods’ mistresses on for a beauty contest. Oh, and Corey Haim died.
Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I really liked it when Tiger’s mistresses were just a flock of random whores that I could hate comfortably from my couch while Hoda and Kathy Lee shit talked them over one another on my behalf. Now, Howard Stern has the nerve to bring these girls on and ask them questions, get inside their heads and explain how they got seduced by celebrity and how they have feelings and dreams and friends and families and well…well shit. I can’t hate these hoes anymore. I can’t even really call them hoes in good conscience. It’s like fucking someone suddenly ISN’T this horrible deed that turns you into a piece of garbage with a demon and a lump of melted rubber for a soul. Huh. Well, that’s not a feeling I’m comfortable with, so I’m gonna move right on to the other tragedy of the day, namely, the death of Corey Haim.
Now, Corey Haim, career-wise, has been dead for years. Recently, he starred in a show with former-partner-in-dildodom Corey Feldman, where he somehow managed to make Feldman look like a level headed talented actor with the bright future. No easy task if you consider that on the Surreal Life, Corey Feldman looked like an untalented raging lunatic has-been washed up, deluded dingus and he was hanging around the likes of Tammy Faye Baker, Vanilla Ice, Erik Estrada and some skank from the real world, respectively. That’s saying something.
The Haimster was said to have been in trouble. Reports had been coming in for years that he was homeless in Milwaukee and high on drugs and so on and so forth. When he finally emerged (on that show with Feldman) he was bloated and gross. The rumors seemed true. He put some ad in Variety that said something to the effect of “yeah, I’ve fucked up for a while, but I’m back. I’m ready to make amends and I’m ready to work again. Please put me in your movie!!!!” and well, surprisingly, that didn’t go too well.
At this point, my knowledge of late-era Haimisms comes to an abrupt end, but I’d like to speculate that he probably reffed a few backyard rasslin matches and maybe jumped around to a few ICP albums.
I dunno. I’m sure his family is sad. I’m sure Feldman is somewhere having very mixed emotions. On one hand, he’s the winner. “FELDMAN BEATS HAIM!!!! WHO’D A THUNK IT?” the headlines blare in his bespectacled dome. But then, there’s gotta be that lingering dread. This shit happens in threes, you know. First Michael Jackson, then Corey Haim. There’s only ONE person that can complete that trifecta. And that’s Feldman. AND HE KNOWS IT!!!!!
Right Now, he’s hiding in his room, looking at pictures of his ex wife’s playboy shoot, window shades drawn, walls and ceilings covered in foil, lost boys on the television, Remember the Time on the stereo and a copy of the DaVinci code in his hands just to tie everything together. He should be scared. They’re coming for you, Feldman. Believe it! You can’t hide. Where are your precious animals now, Feldman? Huh? HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Nah, like I said, I’m sure the Haims are bummed. Canada, probably also bummed, as they lost one of their best and brightest. It’s never fun when bloated former cute kids die young, folks. Well, exept…no. No. I’m gonna stick with it. Never fun.
Okay, in the spirit of my last day of grownup freedom, making the most of life because you never know when it will be cruelly snatched from you and the notion that all of tiger woods’ mistresses were maybe not just wanton dickwarmers, I’m gonna get out there and live. Maybe I’ll go get a corned beef sandwich or something.
Oh, the dizzying highs!
Later folks.

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