Neil Young - My my, hey hey + lyrics

This is what happens when simple meets effing g-damn good.

Linda Ronstadt w/ Eagles - Silver Thread and Golden Needles (Don Kirshne...

How to make Lex's head explode, step 3. Show this picture of Olivia Munn

That right there is a wolf-jenny on a hinkerstink, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Charlie Sheen got on twitter and, out of habit, Charlie paid twitter $10,000 and gave it a sexually transmitted disease.

A Northwestern professor created controversy by having a naked woman provide a sex-education vibrator demonstration in class. The sex-education demonstration wouldn’t have have caused a stir, but it was a macramé class.

In Portland, a dog ate part of a diabetic man’s nerveless foot. Lucky for the man it wasn’t a wiener dog.

Charlie Sheen calls his house the Sober Valley Lodge. Sadly, it resides on the corner of Coke Blvd. and Hooker Avenue.

Charlie Sheen’s nearly-two-year-old twin boys were removed from his drug and porn star-ridden house and they will be sent to a more stable environment: Moammar Gadhafi’s Libyan palace.

Charlie Sheen’s nearly-two-year-old twin boys were removed from his house he calls the Sober Valley Lodge. The children are now in a healthier environment called The Anywhere Charlie Sheen Is Not Hotel.

They decided the environment wasn’t fit for a toddler who can barely walk, talk and isn’t fully potty trained. But Charlie Sheen is staying there anyway.


Lex’s tip on how to grill the perfect steak on the gas grill



Buy a good steak. My choice is a marbled bone-in rib eye. Marinate in olive oil for at least an hour. Mo’ bettah.

Make a rub that is equal parts garlic powder, sea salt, pepper, Old Bay and finely ground coffee. Really rub the rub into the steak.

Since I am using a gas grill for the second step to get a smoky flavor, I crush an entire clove of garlic into a bowl and add enough water to cover and let it sit.

Heat the grill on high. Sear the steak on one side for two minutes, flip it over for a another two minutes, turn down the burners and flip it 90 degrees for cross marks for three minutes, flip again, throw the garlic paste on the burners – make sure the top is closed so the garlic smoke stays in - and grill for the final two-to-three minutes. About nine minutes total. Maybe ten. I want juicy medium rare. Red and juicy, not cold, cooked through, but NOT grey/pinkish and dry, i.e. medium.

Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with sea salt and let it rest under tin foil for a couple of minutes .

Sauce? Cup of red wine, big splash of chicken broth, big splash of soy sauce, a dollop of ketchup, a little honey, garlic powder, simmer until fairly thick.

It is official

My obsession with Olivia Munn and “Perfect Couples” has officially reached Laurel Canyon music scene levels.

Oh, speaking of Laurel Canyon (oh, crap, no) just got a great book titled “Canyon of Dreams: The Magic and the Music of Laurel Canyon.” By Harvey Kuberik. It is sort of a scrap book of photos and observations, but it has quotes from the real players of the time. From the real players like Lou Adler (He is the weird old guy in the funky hat next to Nicholson at Lakers games) Ray Manzarek, David Crosby and Joni.

Guess what? My conspiracy theory that Manson was one of the main suppliers of sex and drugs to that scene? Not true. He was for a time with Dennis Wilson and Neil Young and Doris Day’s son and Beach Boy producer, Terry Melcher, but he was pretty much just a whacky wannabe. Not a big influence.

You know what was a huge influence on Laurel Canyon music in the Sixties? The Brits. John Mayall introduced the blues to rock and folk. He was a fatherly teacher who schooled Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page on the blues. He even brought in the greats to perform in LA, like Junior Wells and the Mud man.

The Brits could not get over how Laurel Canyon and the studios on the strip were so close together. In England the music bidness was in London and the country was way out. Never the twain met. They could have both next to each other in Los Angeles. So Graham Nash, Jimmy Page, Eric the C, Keith Richards, David Blue, Donovan, Van Morrison and Joe Cocker taught the harmonizing folk hippies, Stephen Stills, Joni Mitchell and David Crosby a love of the Chicago-style rockin’ blues.

With Graham Parsons and Johnny Cash and Glen Campbell pushing for the country side, the essence and ingredients of the California sound - folk meets pop meets blues meets rock meets country - was cooking like a nice, brown bubbly chili in a cast iron pot on a Laurel Canyon wood-fire stove. (Wow, Lex, you can really paint a word picture)

Blow me, inner tirade.

You know who was damned by feint praise, avoided or downright disrespected on this scene? The Eagles. Before they came up with a name, the other musicians called Don and Glenn the Egos. That, says a well-connected source, is how they defensively came up with the Eagles.

“No, they’re not calling us the Egos, they’re calling us the Eagles.”

Neither admit it now, but unlike Ned Doheny, J.D. Souther, Randy Newman, Ry Cooder, James Taylor, Richie Furay, both Henley and Frey were Troubadour wannabes who didn’t rank with the more talented artists who got stage time. It was out of a charitable gesture by all accounts the sweetest and kindest person in the music industry, Linda Ronstadt, that they got their first job backing her up at Disneyland for $25.

The Eagles guilt/angst over making it so huge over way more talented musicians can be heard in the lyrics to “Sad Cafe.”

Some of the dreams came true
And some just passed away
Some of them stayed behind
Inside the sad cafe

Say what you want about his ego, my man Don Henley can write his ass some lyrics. But the Eagles made a lot of money for their songwriting pals like Souther, Jack Tempchin, et al.

“The Monkees” were a watershed moment for this scene. The music industry in L.A. in the late Sixties was an off-shoot of the film industry. “The Monkees” were some out-of-touch a-hole movie studio head’s idea of a rock band and Don Kirshner. Stephen Stills refused to join because they demanded the publishing rights to songs and Stills was already selling a lot of songs.

Nobody on the scene blamed the members of the Monkees, in fact, they said Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork were awesome singer, songwriter, guitar players. The hip Laurel Canyon purists hated the corporate packaging and control of the Monkees.

When the Eagles emerged without a respected songwriter besides Bernie Leadon, the hip crowd put them down as a slick corporate packaging ploy more along the lines of the Monkees than purists like Buffalo Springfield, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Little Feet, Crazy Horse, the Flying Burrito brothers, Randy Newman, Ned Doheney and Gram Parsons. Of course, Parsons and Doheney could afford to be purists, they were filthy rich trust fund babies. So was Newman, his dad won an Oscar for music like he eventually did. Frey and Henley were broke and needed money to buy cowboy boots and silver and turquoise jewelry so they could get laid.

It is surprising how many of the big players on this scene, either from the performing side or the music industry side, were just bored rich kids looking to jam, hang out at the Troubadour, get high and get laid. Joni Mitchell and James Taylor all came from pretty well-to-do families who staked them to their start. The ones who couldn’t sing ended up on the business side like David Geffen and Lou Adler.

The historic pattern of the Eagles seems to be generosity rewarded with abuse. Linda Rondstadt was generous to pick them for her Disneyland band when there were more established artists at the bar of the Troubadour to choose from. Henley eventually dated and dumped her.

Jackson Browne took Frey in to his apartment in Echo Park. Frey used his infamous “change a word, take a third” on Browne’s 98% finished “Take it Easy.”

Joni Mitchell said Frey stole her chords for “Best of My Love” while they were dating.

Bernie Leadon was generous to even join the band as he was the only well-established artist in the band. They dumped him before “Hotel California.” David Geffen was very generous to sign virtually unknowns Henley and Frey (Meisner had briefly been in Poco) to his burgeoning label, Asylum. Henley sued him in a toxic/ bitter dispute during his solo career.

Don Felder gave the Eagles their signature legacy, “Hotel California” he was dropped and sued for wanting the same equal-shares deal the band had always agreed on for the reunion. Only so much of this can be blamed on their evil troll manager, Irving Azoff.


More "Sad Cafe" lyrics:

Now I look at the years gone by
And wonder at the powers that be
I don't know why fortune smiles on some
And lets the rest go free

See above, Don. Forget love 'em and Lear 'em, it's use 'em and lose 'em. What is that fortune/saying? May you never get to know your heroes.

Meet Ernie, one of the stars of "Stand Up Guy."

What, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers?

Charlie Sheen’s nearly-two-year-old twin boys were removed from his drug and porn star-ridden home. They were taken to a safer environment where drunk clowns juggle chainsaws.

Police say they arrested a drunk Christine Aguilera because she was “Unable to take care of herself.” And yet Charlie Sheen walks around a free man.

Charlie Sheen’s nearly-two-year-old twin boys were removed from his home. Apparently someone decided having toddlers around a drunk, drug-addled psycho living with a porn stars wasn’t a good idea. They were from the department of: We Aren’t Bat-Poop Crazy.

Today Charlie Sheen gave yet another in a long line of rambling, incoherent interviews after his twin boys were removed. This is getting tiresome, forget that his wife, his show, his publicist and kids have left him, you know Sheen is in trouble when comedians are getting tired of his crap.

Charlie Sheen’s publicist, Stan Rosenfield, has quit. Stan wants to spend more time with his not- coke-addled, whore-mongering utterly insane clients.

Charlie Sheen’s nearly-two-year-old twin boys were removed from his drug and porn star-ridden home and will be sent to a more stable environment: Moammar Gadhafi’s Libyan palace.

Charlie Sheen said he has Tiger blood. This explains why Charlie hasn’t won a golf tournament in a long time.

Since you asked:
Just read the hard-to-read details of Charlie Sheen’s binges in “G.Q.” and one thing is clear. Charlie is truly spiraling down. Spirals are corkscrews and there is a brief moment of going back up before you fall back down and Charlie is in love with that also.

Some people make a big deal in support of Charlie because he is a pro who doesn't show up high or drunk at his $2 mil a show job. Charlie loves being sober and not doing drugs and going back to work. It is part of his addiction. But then he has to fall back harder with more drugs, more booze and more hookers.

Charlie is a perfect storm of problems. He obviously has a strong constitution or he would be dead. He is an athlete so he likes to get in shape and work out – look at how buffed he got for “Hot Shots.” And the worst part is he grew up expecting this kind of life to be normal. His dad, Martin, had a heart attack from partying too hard on the set of “Apocalypse Now” in front of Charlie when Charlie was ten. The three B’s are part of Charlie’s DNA, babes, blow, booze.

The other problem is Charlie has an endless supply of cash.

Charlie has to have relationships with whores because he is a nice guy who doesn’t use and lose star- struck fans like the rest of Hollywood. In a phone interview with the radio show I used to write for, “Dave, Shelly and Chainsaw”, Dave Rickerts asked Sheen why a good looking movie star needs to hire women to come to his house. In a blast of honesty and candor, Sheen said;

“I don’t pay women to come to my house, I pay them to leave when I tell them to.”

From everything I’ve read from Clapton to Crosby, there is a very sharp turn addicts make that make recreational use of chemicals impossible to return to so the choice of quitting or dying becomes clear. In both Clapton and Crosby’s case they chose to die, but got lucky and lived. Sheen has had this happen also, he has overdosed and been hospitalized several times, and has chose to continue killing himself.

Rehabilitating is part of Sheen’s addiction. This is not going to end well. Not to be dark and morbid, but the people in Charlie Sheen’s life need to know he is going to kill himself sooner or later. They can either participate in that happening or step away so, when the inevitable happens, they can live with their actions.

It seems CBS and Chuck Lorre have already done that.

Quick, name something that isn't great about this picture. Yeah, I couldn't either.

Beef Jerky time, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Today Libyan dictator, Moammar Gadhafi, said there is no opposition to his dictatorship and that he is only high on a drug called Charlie Sheen.

In L.A., Christina Aguilera was arrested for public intoxication. The cops arrested Aguilera when they asked to her to sing the National Anthem and she forgot the words, but her agent said; “No, that’s normal for her.”

In England, a professional cricket player announced he is gay. This was shocking to American sports fans. We thought all cricket players were gay.

In Los Angeles, a drunk driver crashed his car into a sober-living facility. Well, it’s nice to see Charlie Sheen trying to clean up.

The Oscars can be awkward. Like now when I call Natalie Portman to congratulate her Oscar win, should I or should I not bring up the whole question about me being her baby daddy?

An FBI report claims, in 1961, Ted Kennedy tried to rent out an entire Chilean brothel. Or as this move is known now: A Charlie Sheen/Elliot Spitzter/Hugh Grant Trifecta.

Charlie Sheen is taking his crazy on the road. Nothing clears up a drug accusation like ten rambling, very fast and incoherent interviews;

“I’mnotoncoke,I’mhighonCharlieSheen,myheadexplodesandmybodycatchesonfire.Toomuch?”


Since you asked:
This is not a perfect world. If it was a perfect world I would be on Lookout Mountain road in Laurel Canyon sitting in a hot tub holding a icy tumbler of Mount Gay Rum and Coconut water with lime, Olivia Munn rubbing my neck while, on the nearby deck, Keith Richards and Eric Clapton work on a duet combining “Little Wing” with “Wild Horses” as Emeril grills bone-in Rib-eyes on a Weber grill. (What’s the matter, Lex, isn’t sitting on a bouncy ball in your messy office and hacking with a nasty chest cold almost as good?) Bite me, inner tirade.

Here are my questions for Olivia Munn:

Do you feel the Egyptian revolution was a validation of the communication theories espoused by media soothsayer Marshall McLuhan? Just kidding, have you ever been with a girl?

How much would it cost Charlie Sheen to lock you in a closet?

Besides my “Let me put the fun in Munn” what is the lamest pick up line you have ever rejected?

Your heritage is Chinese and German-Irish. Does that make you Maneseish, Gerirechin or Nesemanire?

If I were, like, to be walking down the hall when your History class lets out, even though my class is totally on the other side of school, and I walked by, would you, like, say hi to me?

In your show “Perfect Couples” and skits for “G4” and “The Daily Show” you have laid spread-eagle in a silk slip on the bed, deep-kissed a hot blonde woman and worn a skimpy French maid outfit while diving into a giant chocolate cream pie. No question here, I just like remembering all of these scenes.

Let me get this straight:

The Supreme Court just ruled it is legal for people – people who believe god is punishing the military for allowing gays to serve – to protest at the funerals of US military personal killed in battle?

Shouldn’t the right to free speech come with a common sense caveat? Can’t we even agree that screaming insults at mourners of a person killed in battle is wrong? We can’t get together on that?

We’re screwed.

Like I said, this is not a perfect world.

If it was a perfect world I would be writing a treatment for a movie about a young couple who escapes to a Hawaiian vacation to avoid the pressure from friends and family to get married and have kids.

It stars Olivia Munn and T.J. Miller in their movie breakout rolls as the couple who decide to take stand up paddle board lessons from a quirky, but lovable, instructor/former stand up comedian who gives them sage and or hilarious advice on love, marriage and family.

It’s called: “A Stand Up Guy.”

The SUP instructor's first advice? Get a puppy. So they do. A golden brown Labradoodle named Ernie. (After Ernie Banks as they are from Chicago)

So this would be a early-part-of "Marley & Me" meets "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" meets "About Last Night" meets "Blue Crush."

But who to play the comedy writer? Hmm.

Sexy, smart, beautiful, funny, nice, talented, charming. Lord, why are there so few of us?

How to make Lex's head explode, example #2. Take a picture, circa 1968, in Mama Cass's Coldwater Canyon/Lookout Mountain house backyard of Eric Clapton transfixed by trying to figure out Joni Mitchell's whacky and brilliant guitar tunings. Oh, and throw in David Crosby about to give a joint to a baby.

Well played, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Today Libyan dictator, Moammar Gadhafi, blamed Oscar winner Melissa Leo’s f-bomb on al Qaeda.

How about those Academy Awards? Congratulations to Melissa Leo for winning Best Effing Supporting Actress.

I can’t come up with any jokes about the Academy Awards Show, just like the show itself.

Was it just me or did Academy Awards host James Franco look like he was going to fall asleep on stage? Luckily 94-year-old Kirk Douglass was there to perk things up. How about Kirk Douglas on the Academy Awards? He was born in 1916. That’s just a Bieber away from the 1800’s.

According to “The Globe” Levi Johnston is working on his memoirs. He’s not writing it alone, Levi is getting help from a much smarter and better writer: Snooki.

Larry King announced he is going to do a stand up comedy tour. Poor Justin Bieber, just when his tour was doing so well.

You’ll never guess what they had in the Mideast: A day of rage. The day of rage is to be followed by 364 days of being seriously pissed off.

After several whacky Charlie Sheen interview rants, CBS is shutting down “Two and a Half Men” for the season. Probably a good idea, the last few episodes, Charlie was looking a little like he had been eating off of Mel Gibson’s plate.

Many experts credit Facebook for the Egyptian revolution. Yeah, and they credit MySpace for the strong turnout at Carl Swanson’s garage sale in Muncie, Indiana.

There is an old Hollywood adage that cocaine is an IQ test. If you use it, you flunked. If that’s true than Charlie Sheen is dumber than Levi Johnston at last call.

Despite violence and angry protests and being hated by millions, he insists on keeping his power. Not Moammar Gadhafi, Glenn Beck.

Lindsay Lohan and Charlie Sheen, somehow managing to make Paris Hilton and Mel Gibson look like Ward and June Cleaver.

A London ice cream shop is offering breast milk ice cream. Instead of small, medium and large, the breast milk ice cream comes in sizes: Kate Hudson, Natalie Portman and Queen Latifa.

I don’t want to say the Oscars dragged on, but the show was longer than Kirk Douglas’s earlobes.

Charlie Sheen is now saying if he doesn’t get a raise from CBS for “Two and a Half Men” he is going to sue. The show has to stop for his drunken whore and coke binges and now Charlie wants a raise. And they say Hollywood stars are out of touch.

Since you asked:
In the sage words of the mighty, mighty Bon Jovi;

“It’s my life, it’s now or never, I don’t want to live forever, I just want to live while I’m alive.”

So true. So . . . true. (Polite applause)

My pick for the next huge star? “Perfect Couples” Olivia Munn. Now, I know, I predicted Rap and Madonna would never last. But I also predicted Jennifer Anniston would be huge back when she was a pup doing “The Julie Brown Show.”

All the six stars on “Perfect Couples” are good, but former “Maxim” cover girl, Munn, is mesmerizing. You can’t take your eyes off her when she is on camera. (Yeah, uh, we know what mesmerizing is, Lex) In addition to being exotically Asian-American beautiful, she also manages, like Aniston, to be cute. And she has an almost Kristen Wiig-like comedic range. She can go huge to tiny in nothing flat.

In addition, Munn is sexy. What is hotter than a hot woman who is smart and doesn't take herself too seriously? Olivia is sexy. So sexy I officially grant her full blown Lex status as a H.B.M.M. Human B*ner Making Machine. (Oh, that's classy, Lex)

The “Perfect Couples” writing is predictable 30-ish-dealing-with-marriage-growing-up, but the quick pace suits my-ADD as it has to be to get all three couples in. Hayes MacArthur’s voice is an odd blending of Dane Cook and Ryan Reynolds and Christine Woods has a tad of Maggie Gyllenhaal in her. All likeable.

Yes, I am sorry, I’ve told the story before, but I am telling it again.

Back in the halcyon days of Laurel Canyon in 1968, according to many credible sources, there were essentially two kinds of parties. The first being the cliché hippy peace love wine and pot sing-along backyard barbeques hosted by the Queens of Coldwater Canyon and Lookout Mountain road, Joni Mitchell and Mama Cass Elliot. Yes there were crossovers and exceptions, but the general rule at Joni and Cass’s parties were no open/orgy sex, coke or acid.

That is what is happening in the picture above with Eric Clapton and David Crosby and Joni Mitchell.

The other type of parties were wilder and more sinister as coke and acid and orgy sex –all often supplied by Charlie Manson and his girls, but I am not going there now – reared its ugly head when hosted by rich and horny Hollywood stars, directors and producers. Like Steve McQueen, Jack Nicholson and Roman Polanski . . . OK, so I went there a little more.

Mama Cass took sweet, gentle, bespectacled intellectual song-writer Randy Newman under her considerable wing and strongly advised Newman against attending one of those wilder parties just down the street.

But Newman went anyway.

His shocked and stunned reaction and observations were captured forever in the song he wrote and sold to “Three Dog Night” “Mama Told Me Not to Come.”

(Polite applause rising to a loud crescendo)

How to make Lex's head explode. A, take a picture of the Rolling Stones relaxing over breakfast, B, have that house be in Laurel Canyon in 1971.


We gotta go if we gonna get gone, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Reports indicate that Libyan dictator, Moammar Gadhafi his lost control, he will have to resign and he is rambling incoherently. No, wait, I’m sorry, that’s Regis Philbin.

I’m not sure Lindsay Lohan understands how much trouble she is in, she keeps asking her attorney if she can be released into the custody of Amy Winehouse.

Did you hear there is a feud between Britney Spears and Katy Perry? Katy Perry should worry, this could be serious if it was the year 2002.

The evidence in the Lindsay Lohan jewelry theft case is strong including a video of Lindsay stealing the necklace. Lindsay’s only hope at a trial is if her attorney can gather the members of the OJ Simpson jury who haven’t yet died of terminal stupidity.

Is it just me or does this Libyan dictator Moammar Gaddafi look like a guy who has a restraining order against entering all Chuck E. Cheeses?

On a flight from Israel to England, Easy Jet only served ham melts and bacon baguettes to primarily Jewish passengers. On the bright side, the pilots were only drinking Manischewitz Kosher wine.

A Florida dog was saved from drowning in a canal all night by dolphins. The dolphins guided the dog to shallow water and then kept him company. Maybe these dolphins can save Charlie Sheen?

Spring training is just around the corner. Pitchers and catchers report Monday, steroid-shooting personal trainers, hangers-on, sycophants, bookies and strippers report on Friday.

Is it just me, or are Mickey Rourke, Carrot Top and Moammar Gadhafi using the same really bad plastic surgeon?

Rumor is the CIA has operatives working in Libya to guide the overthrow of Moammar Gadhafi. I’m not sure it’s true, but a guy wearing sunglasses just asked me to read this: “Attention Black Swan, you have 127 Hours for the Fighter to end the Inception of the King’s Speech. Over.”

Since you asked:

Saw “Due Date” yesterday. Do me a favor? Don’t.

How did a movie this bad happen? It isn’t even bad enough to be bad. Love the entire cast, Robert Downey Jr. Jamie Foxx, Michelle Monaghan, Juliett Lewis, Danny McBride – he almost steals the movie, but you can’t steal something that isn’t worth anything – and I may be one of Zach Galifianakis’s biggest fans. And a huge fan of “The Hangover” director, Todd Phillips.

And I love travel/buddy films. And I especially love French Bulldogs.

Maybe this is why Hollywood has award shows for award shows. Clearly it is harder to make a good movie than anyone thought. All of the ingredients are here, but the dish falls flat. From beginning to end this movie does not work. Granted, Jamie Foxx didn’t even mail in his performance, he didn’t even e-mail it in.

No bits really work. When it tries to be touching, it is uncomfortable, when it tries to get gross, it is annoying. When it tries to be funny – again, except for McBride – it gets even more annoying. Yes, there are moments that are funny and I laughed out loud. But it was like miniature golf or pancakes. The concept sounds much better than it is.

So, Lex, you may well ask, you bon vivant, raconteur, gad-fly, sly-boots, man-about-town, what, pray tell, is your take on the Charlie Sheen, “Two and a Half Men” meltdown?

Key point: it is the Charlie Sheen “Two and Half Men” fiasco in that order. Charlie is bigger than the show. (Although my good buddy, Mark O’Snake had a brilliant idea to bring in Russell Brand as Charlie’s crazy English house-sitting cousin)

Sure, at the base of this is the cautionary tale of unchecked pampered star egomania running headlong into debauched excess on historic levels. Believe it or not, there are a lot of folks who would like to sit around all day high as a kite having sex with hot multiple partners. Sheen is not a pioneer at this.

Yet there are other textures and sides and angles to a story this phenomenally psychotic. And a big one is the show’s creator, producer and writer: Chuck Lorre.

Lorre is clearly a brilliant guy. But he also has serious issues, he would have to have issues to be labeled “the angriest man in Hollywood.” Remember, that is a Hollywood with that fat little ball of hate, Irving Azoff.

Not to take blame away from the suicidal indulgences of drugged-egomaniac TV stars, but there has to be a cause and effect connection to Lorre on both the epic rise and then flame-out collapses of mercurial stars Cybill Shepard, Roseanne Barr, Brett Butler and now Charlie Sheen. (Far less of a star, Tom Arnold)

Once an e-mail exchange between Lorre and Judd Apatow leaked out on the internet. It started out nice and affable on Apatow’s side and quickly went toxic on Lorre’s responses. They had some disagreement over who did or did not steal a show idea. For the most part, Apatow remained civil. Lorre went right to ballistic. Lorre is more than a couple of tablespoons of nuts.

So while Sheen’s rants against Lorre seem mean-spirited and wildly unfair and unappreciative on the surface, I am fairly certain there is some ammunition to go with that frustration.

It’s way too late and fabulously self-serving for CBS to claim concern over Sheen’s welfare in shutting down the show. Like all of Hollywood, they are about the money first and foremost. It is an indication of how bad things really are that they did lock the doors.

In his last rant/interview Charlie said he is still going to show up for work. If the studio doors are locked he will bang them like they’re $10,000 a-night-hooker.

Let’s face it, the last few episodes, Sheen has been looking like he’s been eating off of Mel Gibson’s plate. Now remember, this is not like how you and I looked a little puffy going into the office on the Monday after the Super Bowl. Sheen has an entire phalanx of hair, makeup and lighting experts to piece Humpty Dumpty back together again. And Charlie still looks like he and Sean Penn did a Tony (“Scarface”) Montana imitation the night before.

A friend of mine more connected to the entertainment world than I let me in on a little secret. Like sexuality, things in Hollywood exist on distinctly two different levels: public and private. While some actor will claim he is straight to save his leading man status, they can be readily seen groping dudes in bars and parties.

(CoughJohncoughTravoltacoughMatthewcoughMcConaughey)

The same applies to sobriety. In Hollywood there is P. R. sobriety and there is what is real in private. It isn’t too hard for non-Andy-Dick-Lindsay-Lohan-Mel-Gibson meltdown-addicts and alcoholics to just take it inside and stay straight for public appearances. This is what Charlie Sheen should have done four years ago.

Think of addiction as a luxury party train that slowly speeds up going downhill and does not have stops nor any brakes. At first it is fun, happy and no problem to hop off. As it speeds up, the getting off becomes more difficult, more painful, so the smart ones jump off early and roll. Those who remain are increasingly lonelier and sadder. All who decide to stay on? That train will crash killing or maiming all left on board.

But now it is too late. Sheen has clearly taken some ugly turn – which isn’t helped by getting up there in age – where he has to go totally clean or he will die. Charlie has to throw himself off the train or die somewhere down the track.

Nobody wants to see a show called “One and a Half Men.”