A letter I doubt I’ll be sending…. to Charlie Sheen

Dear Charlie

I’ve actually been meaning to write to you for a couple of weeks now to tell you that you used to be hot, and also to thank you – ever since you spoke to People Magazine regarding your last episode as Charlie Harper – and the end of your show, Two and a Half Men

Whether it’s over because CBS won’t pay you $1.5 million per epsiode, or because you’re an insurance liability, or because you need to go to rehab…. Thanks all the same. I believe you finished filming April 9… You must feel a bit sad.

I am. You see I’m not thanking you because I didn’t enjoy the show. Your sitcom gave me some good laughs over the years.  It’s just that the little fat kid is getting old and tall now, and I was starting to get really frustrated that the producers hadn’t renamed it to “3 Men.”

 

So I don’t have to be frustrated anymore. And neither does the wardrobe assistant on set, who must be SO OVER ironing those silly shirts of yours, which by the way are for sale on eBay! Did you know that?  

But now I’m wondering, as I do when all good shows come to an end – what will become of its leading stars?

The fat kid will be fine, mainly because he’s lost some weight and he’s got a smart mouth on him. I’m guessing he’ll probably end up with a bit part in a Seth Rogen film.

Jon Cryer I’m more concerned about. Maybe you could suggest he give David Schwimmer a call. You know, someone who understands his new found future of nothingness.

But mostly – and for the first time ever – I’m worried about what will happen to you. Financially you’ll be fine – since you stashed more cash from your show than Oprah. And the chance of you disappearing from public view is also unlikely… even if it is your mug shot.           

                               
(THEN and NOW: waiting at the cop station)
 
But your bad boy ways have finally caught up to you. The s**t’s hit the fan, and its flying all over the place. Your well oiled machine is squeeking. We all know shaved heads and bad disguises are the first signs that your on Loony Lane. What’s next – a pink wig? A cockney accent? A trip to Mt Cedars Sinai in the back of an ambo on a stretcher?  (Incidentally, the press are giving you a hard time for wearing your PJ’s outside. I think it’s perfectly acceptable – you’ve got baby twins. Hell I only have one and I’m often seen leaving home in my nightie.”

                              

In the past you’ve been a regular Houdini, escaping capture and punishment for decades of bad behaviour. In fact not only have you slipped through the Cracks of Justice, you’ve somehow been rewarded for your rebellion.

Charlie screwed up – let’s give him a job.  Let’s look back together shall we?

But first – let’s compare stories to make apparent your Teflon Coating.  Last Thanksgiving night – Tiger Woods, the highest paid (and horniest) man in sport, had a domestic dispute with his wife – got clubbed and hauled away, leaving behind a family and career practically in tatters.

Then, last Christmas night YOU – the highest paid (and even hornier) man in television attacked your wife with a knife, posted bail and somehow got richer and more popular.  In the days following your alleged attack on your wife, your show won the night in ratings – and you were nominated for an Emmy.

But that’s not the first time….

(Photo by Kevin Winter/Getty Images)

In 1990, you shot your fiancé Kelly Preston in the arm (by accident). You were rewarded with a starring role in The Rookies.

In 1995, you were outed as a frequent client of Hollywood Madam Heidi Fleiss and at the same time you were accused of assaulting a UCLA student who refused to have sex with you. You settled both matters in court and a few months later had a lucrative gig on Spin City.

Enter 1997, and you knocked your then girlfriend Brittany Ashland to the floor and split her lip. You got a year’s suspended sentence, two years probation, a $2,800 fine, and a gig narrating a TV special.

Not bad, but it gets better.

The following year after smoking crack and injecting coke, your dad Martin reported you for violating parole and forced you into rehab. That year you starred in 4 movies.

Then of course there was the Denise Richards saga a few years back. She left you reportedly because of your liking of hookers, gambling, drugs and alcohol. Instead of feeling remorse, you launched a kids’ clothing line and attended the Golden Globes with a huge nomination.

I like you Charlie Sheen. I do. Have done ever since Platoon. But this has got to stop. No more rides on the Bad Boy Express. It’s time to pay for what you’ve done… You’ve used up all your free passes. Passes that were given to you because:

A)     Your Hollywood royalty

B)      You have never pretended to be a good guy

C)      You’re very charming

D)     You’ve always played the bad boy and like many actors, people have confused you with the dude you’re playing… “He’s not a bad guy, he just PLAYS one.”

          

I’m sure you have some deep seated reasons for being such an ass hole. Charlie Harper goes to therapy. Do you? Has your therapist ever told you to get off the one way train to HAVOC? Maybe – but til now it’s been a propserous trip. And when I hear more sordid details of your yuletide attack I find myself thinking it must be one hell of a ride.

Like that you and your wife were on a coke and crack binge til the early hours, that you were both also drinking heavily, that you and Brooke were swingers…. and often welcomed third and fourth parties into the bedroom – sometimes with the wood outnumbering the petals. Who knew you swung that way? And why – O why – when your wife was in rehab, were you paying pro’s to play with your peen?

Listen carefully when I tell you that THE TEFLON HAS WORN AWAY. You are no longer impervious to the law. I’ve heard you could face up to five years in jail if you’re found guilty.

You’ve seen the sights, you’ve ridden the rapids. You’ve sampled the cuisine and done almost everything that ‘disorderly’ has to offer. Go to rehab, but do it properly. It’s no biggie…. heck these days it’s practically a career move.  

What have you got to lose? Certainly not your mind Charlie. Your looks? Going by these after and before shots, I’d say it might be too late for that….

    

I guess what I’m suggesting is that you give up the bad boy lifestyle. It’s no longer working out for you. HOWEVER, please don’t give up the bad boy roles. Jack Nicholson is going to die some day, and we all love a dude on film with a bad attitude and a high libido.

Thanks again, and again.
Cindy.

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