So Mel pulled some serious Riggs-shit in Malibu. Everybody on the force knows he’s unstable but it looks like he finally snapped in that highly entertaining and photogenic way. Even this dude’s breakdowns are dramatic. He’s a total actor.

WHY CAN'T YOU BE A HAPPY DRUNK?


Dear Mel Gibson,

Sir, I’m sure you’re familiar with my work. My article “The Passion, I Give it Two Arms Up!” delighted audiences both young and old last year. It was a rousing contemporary parody of film reviews and movie-gossip web blogging. Frankly, sir, it was some of my best shit (at the time). But since then I’ve been forced to reinvent myself as a writer. Sure, I’ve ventured into politics, religion, and relationships but my real joy, my real Passion (besides puns) is crafting humorous pieces about you and your uproarious escapades.

Therefore, when I heard about your latest bombshell, I thought to myself, “My, oh my. Mel has done it again!” You old BIRE ON A WIRE bastard. I, for the life of me (specifically half-Jewish life), can’t believe you allowed yourself to explode like the Hindenburg that you are. When I get drunk I piss myself and make out with fat chicks. You turn into Ed Norton from AMERICAN HISTORY X. It’s horrible and everything, but it does make me feel a little better about the bladder issues.

Man, I was so off. I had you pegged as the caring father from RANSOM. Was that merely window-dressing by talented director Ron Howard? Were you just acting? I guess I was a fool. Maybe after LETHAL WEAPON 4, you renounced the cop way of life. Maybe you’re so tired of playing cops that you had this backlash against them. Maybe you were just doing research for your next movie where you play a close-minded town drunk who falls in love with Goldie Hawn. I don’t know what films are on your docket, Sir. These are just my CONSPIRACY THEORIES.

Look, I’m a friend. I know things are crazy now. Super agent Ari Emanuel, the real life Ari from ENTOURAGE, has publicly called for Hollywood to shun you. Dude, Ari is like a rabid dog with a migraine. You don’t want him on your bad side. C’mon, Mel. Send over some chocolate covered Matzo to the Endeavor office. No wait. You know what? They’re not gonna eat it. They know you’d probably spit in it with your do-unto-others saliva. I think the only way you—feature film actor/director/producer Mel Gibson—can get out of this situation—DUI followed by extemporaneous anti-Semitic debate—is to resolve the war between Israel and Hezbollah.

Like little baby Jesus himself, you have been chosen to be the peacemaker. We need you to be a liaison between the Hezbollah terrorists who love your Jew-bashing and the Israelis who can’t get enough of WHAT WOMEN WANT. I guess that one’s universal. (Actually was a Paramount release) C’mon Mel, whadda ya say? America needs you. We need a [THE] PATRIOT, not some hot-headed MAD MAX. Mel, the Israelis are just looking for PAYBACK while the terrorists, I’m sorry, while the freedom fighters (as you know them) just need the right SIGNS. You can be the middle-man. I know it sounds a little Jewish. But it also sounds a little brilliant.

For the sake of full-disclosure, you should know I talked to some of my Jewish friends and it looks like you were right. This was part of an over-arching Jewish conspiracy. They had set up a DUI roadblock hoping to catch prominent Christian film personalities who were just minding their own businesses driving intoxicated down the dangerous Pacific Coast Highway. The Jewish Police were probably just making up for lost time after all their exiles and bondage and whatnot. Talk about I told you so, right Mel! My source even told me that this was a strategic strike by the Israeli Army aimed at seriously disrupting the post-production of APOCALYPTO. Sadly, like most missions, there was collateral damage. Jim Caviezel was issued a warning for having a blown tail-light and in an ironic accident, Danny Glover was shot by a cop who was supposed to retire yesterday. Apparently when the Jews rule the road, no one is safe. Especially not Glover.

So I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but like I said, your fictitious partner is dead. Your character must be very upset. My condolences. Mr. Gibson, I know your time is valuable and I credit you for reading so far. I’m not gonna keep busting your balls. God will do that. (I’m not really THAT religious, but the joke works). Instead I will end with the phrase “Sugar Tits.” Apparently you referred to one of the female arresting officers as said nickname. My question to you is, “Do you think women will take that kind of treatment in the workplace?” Jesus Christ hung with the prostitutes and didn’t drunkenly call them slags. Look, Mel, buddy, women these days like it when you treat them with respect. They want to be your equal. Equals. That gives me an idea. Splenda Tits. Yeah, Splenda Tits. That’s what you should have said. It’s all in the delivery. Good luck with everything. Hey, maybe when this is all over I could buy you a drink sometime. I know this great place up the PCH. You drive.


-John Dardenne


P.S. Can intern at Icon? I'm totally experienced. Seriously.