After rehab, a high-profile marriage, more rehab, hookers, porn stars, crack hags who just give it away, a high-profile divorce followed by a quick high-profile marriage, little more rehab, and yes, another divorce, 5 soon-to-be-fucked-up children, and a truly horrible sit-com, Charlie Sheen has come clean on his hard partying ways — he is addicted to a drug called Charlie Sheen.
(For years, I thought he was addicted to riding the coattails of a famous Hollywood name into a financially successful, though ultimately, lackluster career.)
But I must confess. I too have partaken of the Sheen. For a brief time during the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, I took a few thousand hits of Charlie Sheen (Not to be confused with taking hits from Charlie Sheen, which is really more of a prostitute/ex-wife kind of thing.)
It started in 1983 with a little film called “The Outsiders”. I told myself I should be open to new experiences and it would be fun. After all, I was young. So, I took a hit and saw immediate results and it opened my mind. It suddenly seemed plausible that a then 31-year-old Patrick Swayze could play a high school age kid (which he repeated in “Red Dawn” a year later). Tom Cruise seemed like he could hold his own in a knife fight. Ralph Macchio appeared talented.
It was a mind-altering experience and I knew I needed more. But I kept it under control, just small Sheen fueled binges. Like bit parts in “Ferris Beuller’s Day Off” and “Amazing Stories”. But then came “Platoon” and it all became a haze. Like the fog of war, I became lost in the fog of Charlie Sheen. One day I had friends, a family, a promising career. The next thing I knew I was mainlining Sheen into my neck meat trying to figure out why brothers Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estevez have different last names, which one was married to Paula Abdul, and what kind of cruel universe would allow them to co-star in “Men at Work”.
It was a dark time in my life. “Navy Seals”, “Cadence”, any excuse to put Charlie in a military uniform, cop uniform, or baseball cap. I actually sucked Corbin Bernsen’s dick just for a taste of “Major League II”.
I had hit rock bottom. I had become a Charlie Sheen head.
Don’t get me wrong. They weren’t all bad times. There was “Being John Malkovich” and “Spin City” and “Wall Street”. Good, solid highs. But there were also the memories I now turn to meth for to erase (as in “The Chase”). Some of the memories are simply too painful to recall.
But then came a morning after watching a “Two and a Half Men” marathon, strung out, naked, the remote control way over on the coffee table just out of the reach of my foot. I had hit bottom. I had lost all sense of reality, dignity, and respect for the art of television and movie making. And there I sat, alone in front of the TV, covered in Corbin Bernsen’s stink, and I knew it was time for a change.
So, today I’m 42 days clean. And while I have rebuilt some semblance of a life, it’s certainly not complete. The damage has been done. But I take it one day at a time.
And now I find out that Charlie Sheen, too, is addicted to the drug Charlie Sheen. So, my advice to Charlie is: The first step is to admit you have a problem. The second step is to learn to love yourself. The third step is to build a well-armed bunker to fend off the inevitable army of douche bags who want you to make “Mighty Ducks 4″… Oh, wait. That was the other… Never mind. Just move full-time to your Bahamian porn pleasure dome and coke away until your heart blows. That’s probably best for all concerned.