I went to see Charlie Sheen last night. I’m pretty sure I was the oldest person to pay for a ticket. Why did I go? I don’t have a direct answer to that question. I’m an ambulance chaser. I’m the driver who stops at a massive car wreck to look for dead bodies. I can watch twelve hours of earthquake damage on television. Tragedies fascinate me.
Charlie Sheen’s Violent Torpedo of Truth performance at the sparsely populated AAC was a delicious disaster. Kidd Kraddick, thrown into the impossible task of interviewing Sheen, was murdered on stage. There was only one Goddess. I swear she’s got a baby bump. If she does, then there is another calamity in the making. Mark Cuban didn’t show up; only dudes with beer guts and baseball caps with dates dressed in clothes from the sale rack at Forever 21.
Pictures instead of words below.
