Why So Serious?

I was telling my cube-neighbor that I feel a bit tapped out when it comes to writing here and I honestly meant what I said. I feel like there's nothing to write about that is interesting. He suggested I write about the virtues of making love with the trash heap from Fraggle Rock. And while I could literally write a book about sleeping with ole' Marjory, that paragon of sagely oracle-ness, I feel that the time just...isn't right. It's one of those topics that I'll put in my back pocket and save it for another time.


Let me be frank with you all, my sweet seven readers: times are dire. There's just nothing to write about.

Every time I feel this way something fantastic happens. Call it happenstance; call it fate; hell, call it deus ex machina.

The following clip dropped into my lap, like manna from heaven.





Can you imagine being one of Joaquin Phoenix's biggest fans and going to see Letterman that night? How disappointed would you be that your favorite actor had turned into such a zombie? It doesn't even seem like he's having a bad night. It seems like he's on something that turns people into unresponsive bores who take themselves too seriously. I can understand why he would be slightly upset with the crowd and David Letterman, but honestly Letterman is just working with what he's being given. I don't think Letterman is being rude because that's what talk-show hosts have to do when the superstar that they are interviewing is so out of it.

The bigger picture, though, is that a great actor is putting his livelihood (and life) at risk with erratic and risky behavior (I am assuming that Phoenix is on some kind of drug). I remember the last guy who was psychologically erratic and unbalanced, and while he's about to get his first Oscar next Sunday, he will not be able to accept it because he's dead. At what point do we stop laughing at these damaged people, realize that they are neither gods nor monsters and collectively say something about it. We're elevating these people to celebrity, but we don't seem to want to take any kind of responsibility when one of them fizzles out or explodes like a supernova.

It's more complicated than that, though, isn't it? Celebrities, with the obvious exceptions, are adults. They should be able to take care of themselves. It's their responsibility to make sure that they are leading healthy and happy lives. On the other hand, there must be some kind of unbearable ennui that comes with being famous. That knowledge makes me question fame...but only for a second.

I guess I'm really glad to have something to write about, but at the same time, I feel really bad for Phoenix.