Sweet, what's mine say?

GO SEE THE FALCON WITH NAKED RAYGUN NEXT WEDNESDAY (THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING) AT METRO!!!! TIX ALMOST GONE!

Thanks. We now return to our prepared program:

How fucking stoked is Ashton Kutcher today? He’s getting divorced. He’s fucking STOKED!!!! Think about this: he’s been married to an older (admittedly smoking hot) woman with three kids for the past six years. He’s a ‘beautiful drifter’ millionaire who’s been playing dad and house and acting like it’s okay that his wife goes to bed at 8 and gives him two blowjobs every quarter and generally, shit’s probably been good (sixth anniversary hot tub infidelity fuckfest notwithstanding). Fuck, man. That marriage rocketed him into the land of the superstar.

Obviously, though, he’s a guy and a desirable one at that (not to me, I find him to be a little too feminine and doughy, but still) and the notion of how many awesome, wanton, under the table/in the hallway/up against the speaker in the club/six faced blowjobs he could be getting from hot, enthusiastic women every single minute of every single day has not been lost on him. For six plus years he’s watched his mom-wife work up the nerve to stay awake late enough to bone him and now, now he’s free. What a day it must be to be Ashton Kutcher. It’s like waking up and realizing you no longer have acid reflux or Chron’s disease. The world is suddenly your oyster, and this has GOT to be made even sweeter because in Ashton’s case, the Chron’s disease made him rich and famous beyond his wildest dreams.

In fact, a more accurate assessment of what’s gotta be happening in Ashton’s life would be if we correlate him with Midas. He went for it, found out that his wish wasn’t all it seemed, then somehow parlayed that into being able to turn shit to gold whenever he wants (of course the gold in this case is hot anal sex with anonymous stewardesses on sexy international flights) without any of the ‘prisoner in my own wish’ elements at play. He’s beaten the system and here’s the best part:

Most people get divorced and they’ve got kids and it’s shitty and it makes you sad and poor and you get spit out on the other side and you’re old and you’re out of the game and you don’t know what the fuck to do or how to get laid or even talk to single people and you’re surrounded by all the weirdos who are single and everyone seems like a loser and you’re not even interested and the people you’re interested in aren’t interested in you and you miss your kids and you cry and you eat dogfood right out of the can in your shitty one bedroom ‘bachelor pad’ because you can’t even afford off brand spaghetti-o’s and you don’t shave and you get fat and your wife starts fucking someone that you just KNOW is not only giving it to her better than you did, but ALSO getting blowjobs from her and that burns you up inside and again, you cry and you realize that you can’t go home again. For better or for worse you’ve been domesticated and turdified and the you that was out there contemplating getting married vs ‘all the pussy I could get if I don’t’ get married’ is long dead and all that’s left is you, your dogfood breath and your porn collection for the rest of your sad, armpit stained days.

But that’s not Ashton, man. Those kids weren’t even his!!!!!!! He’s skipping out of those privacy gates like someone who just took a six years in the making, six foot long impacted dump. He’s only what? Thirty two? He’s one of the most well paid dudes in Hollywood and the people that are interested in fucking him? Well, if you lined them up, they’d stretch to the sun and back sixteen times. In fact, he’s got, by my count, about fifteen years of just fucking everything under the stars and sleeping in and not giving a fuck before he Demi Moore’s some young starlet, knocks her up and maybe marries her.

At that point, he should have it all figured out. Although he seems like he’s terribly stupid. Maybe he’ll just hop right into another tired old bag who’s already been there and blown that, and he’ll fuck up THIS beautiful rebirth as bad as he fucked up The Butterfly Effect (which was a genius piece of cinema ruined by Ashton’s over the top performance [I can’t even bullshit this…that was one of the most uniquely shitty movies I’ve ever seen…his name was Chris Treborn?!!? That’s some heavy handed shit, folks]).

Ah, I dunno. Maybe he’ll fuck it up eventually, but for now, what I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall of the room that contains his disgusting, herpes and syphilis laden petri dish of a hot tub. I bet the party is just getting started.

Have a good weekend.