Then, like an F-18 deploying its ordinance to the ground, Carlos Irwin Estevez dropped upon us what I just heard the ABC 11 o'clock news call "a tsunami of interviews".
Fortunately for us, each piece of this tsunami is best described as a seething, polyamorous, bipolar-manic hypodermic needle of fun. Chuck has "fire-breathing fists". He's a "Vatican assassin warlock". He's rallying his fans to join him in "marching up the steps of justice". It's very sad (i.e. fantastic) that the narcissistic ravings of the coke-addled star of Scary Movie 3 have, in mere days, proven said star leagues more compelling and inventive than 99.9999999999% of the country's best-selling authors.
The man who according to IMDB is nicknamed "Good Time Charlie" (I'm thinking "murderous clown" and "Vietnam War satire") is on fire in TwitterLand and the hose is nowhere in sight. Yesterday, he sent the following tweet to a certain music mogul (Warning: All factors considered, this tweet is so out-of-body-experience-freak-mazing you may want to get your Xanax prescription refilled before you read):
@iamdiddy Get dressed my man...Sending the driver..!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!
And the hits just keep on comin'. Carlos is in the air, he's the salt of the sea, he's the flecks of earth on the hoof of a newborn foal. In what I'm calculating to be Quotable Quote Number 764, he warns that "they're not ready" for "guys like you and I and Nails and all the other gnarly gnarlingtons in my life...". Nails?!? Now he's fraternizing with chain-smoking cartoon spiders from alternate dimensions in horrible Ralph Bakshi movies!! Commence to swooning.
Last (for the time being) but certainly not least, the Twitter bonanza that Charles Sheen created has earned him one million plus followers; he only follows twenty-three people, one of them Fred Durst.
Ka.....CHING.
