Little Lohan Lost

Wow, it’s been awhile (Stewie voice, ah-hwhile) but I have returned, wishing that blogging was possible through telepathy (translation: I’m lazy). But I digress. Time has passed, and many, many feats of human stupidity have presented themselves like tiny, pristinely wrapped boxes, waiting to be opened at my amusement. We watched Lindsay Lohan, my favorite Hollywood flower, wilt with the speed of an Olympic sprinter.
(left) La Lohan, fresh as a daisy in her Freaky Friday days (right) Lindsay through the ringer, looking, well, Freaky

The world took pleasure in her demise, and I cannot lie; at times I found myself jumping on the mean girls bandwagon headed straight for the Mean Girl herself. To be clear, I believe in giving chances. Second chances. Third chances. Seven hundredth chances. Enablers make the world go round; turning the other cheek makes for amazing reading.

But let’s be honest, Lohan is a minor cog in a ginormous machine of mass destruction; one that eats young, impressionable Hollywood starlets for breakfast. Talent only gets you so far, so being able to resist the temptation to dive face first into a pile of coke can mean the difference between Oscar-worthy talent, and Dancing with the Has-Beens.

And Speaking of Dancing with the Has Beens……

Who could blame Lohan for turning her nose up to the circus that is reality show competitions; where do you go from there? Remember the Golden Globe that Pamela Anderson snagged? Brooke Burke’s Academy Award? Joey Fatone’s Grammy? (hint: they don’t exist). Lohan needs to dry off in a rehab, pack her shit, and move back to Long Island. If she’s smart, she’ll pen her own comeback. Don’t expect her to rid herself of the toxic influence of her parents; at the heart of the matter, she is still a scared young girl who never actually grew up. Maybe a trial separation is necessary for her family to heal.

Hey, it worked for Drew.


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