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Memo to Mel Gibson
Mel. Dude. Seriously. You crazy. Mucho Loco.
I know you may consider me just another one of those n-----s you rant to your ex-girlfriend about, but I’ve decided to put all that aside in a vain attempt to help you, sir. You see, the thing is, you have a serious problem. And it has nothing to do with the bottle, sir.
I think it’s time to come out with the truth about you, Mr. Gibson. The truth is, you’re a douchebag. Let’s see if I have this straight; you get this Oksana in your life, you have a kid with her, you yell and scream profanities at her, and then call her up to 30 times when she says, “You know, Mel, I’m done here?”
I mean, come on, Gibson; we all knew you were full of shit when you were patting yourself on the back for building a cathedral after “The Passion of the Christ.” (By the way, nothing against the movie, but I’ve never seen it. Something didn’t feel right with me about it. And now, we know the director’s a flaming hypocrite. Let’s count: didn’t marry the woman he had a child with, and then treated her like shit. Oh, and that drunken stint with the police that one time. So there we are. I digress.)
I think it’s plain to see that you, Mel, have Narcissistic and Borderline Personality Disorders—normal people don’t do wrestling breathing over the phone when they’re angry. No, they usually just hang up the phone. Maybe throw the phone in frustration, or curse every other car in traffic, or flip people off randomly, but not, “HUUUUH—SSSSSS-HHUUUHHH—SSSSS---HHUAAAAAAAAH!” (Hell, you could have been funnier shouting, “Thunder! Thunder! Thunder! Thundercats! HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” and waving about a sword.)
I think it’s safe to say your career, for whatever that’s worth, is on a long hiatus—no, I won’t say “over”, because…well, just look at Roman Polanski, for crying out loud! But, anyway…one of the preconditions before you film again should be that you go into anger management counseling, or something. The courts are never—no, no, never—going to allow you around your daughter acting like that. You don’t need a chill pill, Mel; you need a Chill Pump connected to your stomach at all times.
Anyhow, I know you’ll never see this. You’re probably sitting somewhere in that cathedral you built to honor yourself Jesus just asking God for forgiveness for your sins.
Nevertheless, if it means anything, I think God’s still laughing at the third tape. Did somebody say comeuppance?
Carrie Fisher and Ron Livingston will be appearing on CraigyFerg's show tonight. I hear the sensors were hard at work during this show.
Time for the show:
BUNNY!
MONOLOGUE
LARRY KING SKETCH
MORGAN FREEMAN
THE BLACK KEYS