Burt Gummer's Rec Room February 2011 Archive
A gathering place for firearms enthusiasts, paranoid survivalists and those who worship at the Church of Chang.
February, sigh, Valentine’s coming up but best not to mention it. Burt’s still not got over the fall of the Soviet Union and the departure of the Blessed Reba.
Disclaimer: This is the part of the Church that is the most no holds barred. None of it is intended with malice, and although it can on occasion seem a little bit fraught, it is banter rather than venom.
Man, I wish Charlie Sheen didn’t have kids. That way, I could be fully on board with all the various jokes about his current state of drug-induced insanity.
I also want to cheer the guy on for living his life whatever way he sees fit, doing drugs and partying like there’s no tomorrow, giving the finger to his bosses and the world and so on; because A) I admire stubborn individualists, and B) it’s just so damn metal.
But then I think, ‘Isn’t this guy supposed to be a Dad?’ which forces me to stop finding it funny. And I hate not finding things funny.
This means I’m getting old, I think. It’s definitely time to get me a pipe and a rocking chair.
Yeah, that’s the downer on the whole thing – like Mad Mel before him, Sheen is thereto have a damn good laugh at, UNTIL you realise he’s got kids. They depend on him, (God help them) look up to him, possibly even love him.
And no matter who you are, when you have kids, shit ain’t about you any more. Even if you are Charlie Fucking Sheen.
He’s gonna get very fucking sober very fucking quickly when the money, and then the good times, run out…