Thursday, June 09, 2005

If You Don't Get Help At Charter, Please. Get Help SOMEWHERE

I bet you thought I--and the rest of the world--had forgotten all about the doomed L'Affaire de Moss et Doherty, huh? Wrong! They've just been lying low, most likely in a chic-yet-squalid flat in London, having deep, spiritual conversations about their star-crossed l'amour, burning incense to cover up the pungent odors emanating from their persons, and crank-calling Naomi Campbell in the middle of the night. But Page Six reports that there may be something besides the Sure Hand of Cruel Fate coming between the two pale, gaunt British lovebirds, and that something is dangling between the oversexed legs of one Johnny Knoxville, naturellement:
Saucy supermodel Kate Moss has been hot and heavy with druggie rocker Pete Doherty, but she may not be ready to commit just yet.

Moss and Doherty, the former Libertines frontman who's been trying to kick his $1,500-a-day crack and heroin habit with special anti-narcotic implants, are reportedly engaged.

But Moss was spotted at Sixth Avenue hotspot Da Silvano on Sunday night chatting up her old flame Johnny Knoxville.

Moss was dining with pals when Knoxville showed up and sat by her side. After a while, the two left in a taxi together. They were also spotted getting cozy after the CFDA Awards at Bungalow 8 the next night, and sources say the flame still burns.

Yeah, I bet that's not all that burns--between Pete, Kate, and Johnny, I can't even begin to imagine the venereal diseases that must be running amok across the Atlantic Ocean.

Ye gods, Johnny! Are you a sex-addict or what? I certainly hope you and that poor wife/mother of your child have some kind of "open marriage," because you can't keep your wick dry for more than thirty seconds at a time--and always with the ho-iest of the hoes! "Saucy supermodel" is Page Six code for "crack whore," dude. And the rest of 'em--Lindsay Lohan, Jessica Simpson...who's next, Bai Ling? Tara Reid? Or have you already "been there, done that" with them, too? Why not just change your name to "Cocksville"?

You need help, sir. You are heading down a dangerous shame spiral that will lead to your inevitible decline into the pits of personal, professional, and sexual hell, AKA the "Surreal Life 8" and the vise-like loving arms of the wrestler formerly known as "Chynna." I can see it now: Corey Haim cries softly into his poorly-concealed donut while ordained minister Pauly Shore performs a "commitment ceremony" for you two by the Surreal Life pool. Farrah Fawcett lurches around as a slightly shaky and haphazardous flower girl, gruff-but-lovable Hulk Hogan gives away the bride with a tear in his eye, Gary Coleman is a feisty Best Man, and Lucy Lawless serves as sexually-ambiguous Maid of Honor/threesome partner for the honeymoon.

Serioulsy. Get some help soon for a) your ceaseless sexscapades, b) your terrible taste in sexual partners, and c) your career trajectory ("The Dukes of Hazzard?"). Sure, you're on top of the world now. A bigshot. A high-roller. A super-stud. But it won't last. Your sexual addiction is just as bad as any other--heroin, cocaina, Kate Moss, they're all the same. They're very, very bad for you.

This may seem like harmless fun now, but I have two words for you: Corey Haim. Your future "Surreal Life" co-star was once where you are now: A Young Sun King of Hollywood, a hot dude with charm and appeal and talent (oh, such talent!)--albeit with far more hair mousse and a Feldman to contend with--but the similarities are there. Think about it.
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