An Act, Crack, Or Crazy?
The unabomber’s homeboy (Letterman’s words, not mine) sat with David last night and this shit was all sorts of uncomfortable in a “Is this even funny?” kind of way? Usually, when I watch some shit, I get one major reaction, but that wasn’t the case with this. It was funny, then pube-pulling akward, then just weird.
Did the spirit of Andy Kaufman jump into Joaquin’s body? Is this all part of his douchy performance-art piece? Is he freebasing RAID? Is there a straitjacket somewhere calling his name? Or is he just fucking completely done and over it? If he’s had it with Hollywood, why is he going through the motions? He looks like he’d rather take a bubble bath (and that’s saying a lot) than sit there with Dave. And I couldn’t tell if Dave was in on the joke or playing along.
I co-sign David’s closing line, “Joaquin, I’m sorry you couldn’t be here tonight.” I’ve been saying that shit for the past month since this flea-ridden madness started.
You know, Joaquin recently made a movie with Fishsticks Paltrow. That answers many questions in my head. Overexposure to Fishy Paltrow has this effect on people.
