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Fameballing, an art

June 28, 2010

ETA: So, if you’ve not yet tackled what turned out to be an epic rant against the public enabling of Lindsay Lo(lz)han, do that below. Afterward, watch THIS, the reason why it is no longer okay to do anything but hope something powerful intervenes in the girl’s life. -B

So, the heathen has mentioned that I should do a blog on Lindsay Lohan, who I affectionately call Lolhan or Lolzhan, depending on the mood, for all the ways she unintentionally brings da funneh. But I’ve been stumped, really, because how do you cover all of that fuckery in a single entry? I mean Lolz is such a veritable Deepwater Horizon (too soon?) of questionable decisions and nonexistent life skills, that it’s hard to pick through to the still beating heart of the matter, if there is one.

Let’s start off playing the Devil’s Advocate, shall we? First of all, let’s all be honest with ourselves and admit that Lolz never stood any chance of being normal, no matter what kind of evidence we have to the contrary of other child stars that seem to have matured unscathed into adulthood, despite relatively harrowing circumstances in their respective youths. Those aforementioned stars are exceptions, not the rule, and it’s cruel to assume that one troubled starlet’s ruined yesteryears are, identically and interchangeably, another’s road to strong character building, as if all that prevented Lolz from the latter is her own ineptitude; it’s just not fair. Alls I’m saying is, when I proceed to bash the Lolz for being quite possibly one of the most ridiculous mutant creatures ever dropped upon this planet by alien lifeforms, I’m not doing it from the perspective of someone completely ignorant of her hardships, just someone who is aware of the foundation of her issues and is still able to find some humor in her current state of being. (‘ey, sometimes we laugh to keep from cryin’.)

Now that I’ve gotten that sickeningly uncharacteristic nicety out of the way, let’s get to the bashin’!

A long time ago, I liked Lindsay fine. I thought she was alright in her Parent Trap update, and she happened to spar pretty well in Mean Girls with Tina Fey’s godsend script and an hilariously vacant Amanda Seyfried standing behind her, checking for weather updates in her mammary glands. I never thought Lindsay was as talented as other people seem to remember – you don’t make Lolz’s version of Herbie: Fully Loaded on any drug or substance, period, if in fact you possess the great skill of Streep or Dench, and you will never get me to believe otherwise, dammit – but comedically speaking, she was no slouch. What I’m trying to say is she took up a rather bland space in my pop cultural real estate, someone who inspired neither my support nor my ire, and really only warranted a place at all because of Mean Girls. And then this shit got good.

You know what’s happened by now, so just suffice it to say there was some car stealing and chasing, some rehabbing, some SCRAM-braceleting (the 1st time), some more clubbing, some random schizoid showdowns and makeups and showdowns and makeups with fellow wreck Paris Hilton, some lesbian dabbling, some relative normalizing, some more clubbing, some lesbian fighting and ceasing and splitting, some mind losing, some boy stealing, some exhaustive partying, some rage/cracktweeting, some rock-bottoming (or so we thought), some probation violating, some pond hopping and more partying (French edition!), some general all around tomfoolery (-ing), some warrant issuing(s), some more SCRAM braceleting and crackredbull tweeting, some SCRAM alarming & alcohol spilling (bahahahaha), some lame lying, and some downright diabolical blame dodging by everyone with a drop of Lohan blood in ’em.

I’ll let you digest all of the above for a second. Go on, take a break. Have a bagel.

You back? How was the bagel? Did you toast it?

Let’s also add to the above (I know, you’re full, but it’s just…) that Lolz has a YOUNGER SISTER who’s, like, in high school or something but looks like she might have started menopause in 1997. I mean, I don’t want to go after minors, but jaysus, Ali Lohan looks like a cougar from Jersey, if said cougar from Jersey had been drinking the unfiltered tap water up there for decades, and had about eight years cocktail waitressing in Reno she’d just like everybody and her ex-mother-in-law to forget already. The girl looks like she’s manhandled and hung out to dry just before a hailstorm. I did some hard livin’ back in my high school days (not, like, truck stop hooker hard livin’, but I had a “fast-paced” life for a couple of years) and even I still look like I’m in my 20s (which I am). So even IF Ali is following in the worst of her elder sister’s footsteps, she shouldn’t look like she’s been doing so since the invention of cars.

But let’s not hold poor Ali against Lolz, as Ali is one crazy, horrible element of this whole mess that isn’t almost completely Lindsay’s fault.

I have to give Lolz credit for being such a great harbinger of all things melodramatic that she captivates almost an entire nation with her shenanigans. She’s such an old (Hollywood) soul; she has the smug, self-serving, destructive warpath of Warren Beatty and Elizabeth Taylor back when they respectively ruled the movie bizness with their crazy, and everyone just went along with it because it was Warren Beatty, it was Elizabeth Taylor, for god’s sake, and stars were meant to shine. The difference is, though, that Warren and Elizabeth and Dennis Hopper and all those others were allowed the wiggle room to lose their minds because their talent at least twice exceeded their bullshit, or at least, their bullshit enhanced their talent, and all could be forgiven. But this is not the case for Lohan, because the relationship of her skillset to her sanity leaves both lacking considerably. She’s just not good enough to be so publicly embattled, which picks her up like an arcade prize crane from the Beatty/Taylor/Hopper, et al. camp and drops her soundly in the Tila Tequila one.

To call her delusionally attention-seeking is to call Lady Gaga a little quirky, but even that description doesn’t necessarily ring true anymore. It’s not JUST that she’s attention-seeking, it’s that she sincerely feels entitled to attention, solely on the basis for who she once was. Never mind that who she once was just another 12-year-old with checks signed by Disney who grew up to pump out some trite, inauthentic dance numbers and tween-baiting, lackluster popcorn fare, and then sleep around with older dudes. That was who she was and we loved her for it, and but that wasn’t enough for the Lolz!! She was gonna be somebody.

Perhaps she wouldn’t be so damn disappointing if she hadn’t, several times before, indicated an ability to learn from past mistakes, only to take it all back with even more egregious foulups and/or completely illogical backtracking. When she sat down with Vanity Fair and copped to not always having the best self-esteem or body image,  hinting at maybe having an eating disorder, she coulda been a contenduh and used it as a teaching moment, BUT NO. It was all flat-rate denials from then on. Then when she came out as  “maybe, yeah” bisexual during the Great Lesbian Expedition, Vol. 1, she seemed to have understood (and appreciated) the complicated spectrum of sexual identity and attraction, but then she had to shit all over the potentially moment by saying that she, essentially, only went gay for Samantha, specifically (are you *facepalming* yet?). The point is, if she were just another child star who grew up amongst turbulence and never really seemed to grow out of it, we’d let her backslide into semi-tragic obscurity without much care in the world (Helloooo, Scott Baio). But it’s her occasional glimmers of hope – the fleeting instances of self-awareness, the slightest reach for help – that tend to lead up to her most spectacular disappointments.

She is not just hijacking vehicles and chasing ex-assistants down in high speed chases, she’s doing all that and wondering why people won’t just “leave [her] alone” to live and act and be successful, as if we’re the only stumbling block between her and a long, illustrious, award-winning career.

When it comes to the point that you’ve had multiple warrants issued for your arrest and you still can’t figure out why people have a problem with you skipping the country (even if it is for “work”), when you have a clearly demonstrated chemical dependency on alcohol and other substances and yet become confused when the judicial system deems it necessary to issue preventative measures in the form of drug testing and SCRAM bracelets, when you have a hard time finding work because you’re damn near impossible to insure – either because people can’t keep you in one place for long, because even when sober you can’t stay out of clubs, because drama finds you and you find it – and you don’t willingly audition anymore but you believe the real reason you’re unemployed is because the world is conspiring against you and your happiness, YOU NOT ONLY HAVE A PROBLEM, but you have one that has become pointless to identify, because you never will.

Lolz. There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of people who have endeavored to do nothing but point out your mistakes in order to get you to see what’s gone wrong, and you willfully determine that somehow every single one of them is just reading too much Us Weekly. It’s not a distinct lack of logic, it’s the sense that you may actually be, beyond a shadow of doubt, bananarama batshit crazy. Yeah, the drugs and alcohol don’t help, but it doesn’t actually matter because you don’t have the capacity for normal thinking anymore, so why are we trying so hard to rehabilitate you? Was Mean Girls really all that good? *
The complexity of Lolz extends far past the woman (the myth, the legend), and is really just modern folklore at this point. She is our visible Loch Ness monster, our in-the-flesh Chupacabra. She exists and she lives out the incomprehensible on a daily basis, right in front of our eyes, but we can’t believe it and thus keep questioning how it might be possible. We have seen the Sasquatch, ladies and gentlemen, but like so many lost hikers before us, have not packed enough film in our cameras to prove it to anybody else. We live in a constant state of suspended belief with this one, and regardless of whether or not she gets “better” (I seriously maintain that the core of her issue is a sincere mental disturbance, not her myriad addictions), we’ll still create our own myths for her. You’d be silly to assume that all the stories about Lohan’s existence are true, but there’s something to be said for someone that creates such quizzical nonsequitor narratives around her life that even the most maliciously bold-faced lies are taken as the gospel, because anything is possible. She is our universal safe zone – feel free to dump your toxic chemicals and hazardous waste in the landfill of her celebrity, we’ll all just look the other way.

Now, this has ended up much more somber than I’d planned. Before Lolzhan dies at an unfortunate and almost penniless end, becoming subject to some A-1 Hollywood revisionist history and recycled sadness (I’m looking at you, sudden Gary Coleman “fans”), let’s reflect back on some of her highlights. These are all things Lolzhan that have made me… er, LOL, in the past, either because the hilarity was intended or an accidental by-product. Enjoy, while you still can without feeling dirty about it afterward. -The Bitch

*Yeah, I get it, it’s a good movie, and no, I’m not advocating for just tearing a girl down because she has real problems. I AM saying that we care too much (even those of you who, ahem, “don’t care” spend too much time clicking on links with her name on it) about this one random actress who we essentially praised for being able to pull off a half-decent British accent as a 10-year-old and being capable of being funny whilst surrounded by some of the most popular comediennes of our generation. That’s nice and everything, but Jodie Foster she is not. Perhaps once she garners less attention (less page clicks, especially), she’ll have the only real motivation to which she could ever respond: a startling and deeply profound lack of fame.


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