The Insufferability Report: 11.30.12
"Oh, you just now figured out that your show is a lowest common denominator repository of ancient dick jokes? You shouldn’t have needed Jesus’s help to figure that out. Real gutsy to shit all over Two and a Half Men after you’ve earned a retirement from it. YOU COULD HAVE PUT A STOP TO CHUCK LORRE AGES AGO, YOU LITTLE SHIT." - Drew Magary

The Insufferability Report: 11.30.12

"Oh, you just now figured out that your show is a lowest common denominator repository of ancient dick jokes? You shouldn’t have needed Jesus’s help to figure that out. Real gutsy to shit all over Two and a Half Men after you’ve earned a retirement from it. YOU COULD HAVE PUT A STOP TO CHUCK LORRE AGES AGO, YOU LITTLE SHIT." - Drew Magary

GQ Exclusive: The Selected Poetry Of Charlie Sheen, Vol. 3(Yes,   Actual Poetry He Actually Wrote.)
Yesterday we shared the  first and second installments of GQ correspondent Amy Wallace's most excellent  find: a self-published, rarely seen, impossible-to-find   collection of poetry written by Sheen in the early ‘90s, titled A  Peace of My Mind. And we promised to post more selections from the  volume over the next day or two. Here’s the second installment. Once  again: we swear to the Pope and all his assassins that every  word of  this is real. Keep coming back here for more. And remember, y’all: turtle, android, pain.

Heretic ProofBy Charlie Sheen Endive, undead, unbroken, Unwed, Relax, relate, rehab, Drug addict, Pursue, persuade, persist, Per-petuate [sic] your own death By smiling a lot. Supply, succumb, deny — everything. Always. Turtle, android, pain. Endeavor, endless, end. P.S. Janonis.

GQ Exclusive:
The Selected Poetry Of Charlie Sheen, Vol. 3
(Yes, Actual Poetry He Actually Wrote.)

Yesterday we shared the first and second installments of GQ correspondent Amy Wallace's most excellent  find: a self-published, rarely seen, impossible-to-find collection of poetry written by Sheen in the early ‘90s, titled A Peace of My Mind. And we promised to post more selections from the volume over the next day or two. Here’s the second installment. Once again: we swear to the Pope and all his assassins that every word of this is real. Keep coming back here for more. And remember, y’all: turtle, android, pain.

Heretic Proof
By Charlie Sheen

Endive, undead, unbroken,
Unwed,
Relax, relate, rehab,
Drug addict,
Pursue, persuade, persist,
Per-petuate [sic] your own death
By smiling a lot.
Supply, succumb, deny — everything.
Always.
Turtle, android, pain.
Endeavor, endless, end.

P.S. Janonis.

GQ Exclusive: The Selected Poetry Of Charlie Sheen, Vol. 2(Yes,  Actual Poetry He Actually Wrote.)
Earlier today, we shared the first installment of GQ correspondent Amy Wallace's miraculous find: a self-published, rarely seen, impossible-to-find  collection of poetry written by Sheen in the early ‘90s, titled A Peace of My Mind. And we promised to post more selections from the volume over the next day or two. Here’s the second installment. Once again: we swear to the Pope and all his assassins that every  word of this is real. Keep coming back here for more.

I.D. Blues By Charlie Sheen “Excuse me, aren’t you…?” “Hey, you look just like…” “Oh my God, that’s…” “Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but aren’t you…” “Look, I never do this, but, my wife thinks you’re…” “My friend is so convinced that you’re…” “I’m so embarrassed, but, aren’t you…?” “I know you must be tired of this, but…” “WAIT!!” All eyes held in stare, all mouths locked open in shock, as he pulled the latex Charlie Sheen mask from his head, revealing the rotted skull of President Lincoln.

GQ Exclusive:
The Selected Poetry Of Charlie Sheen, Vol. 2
(Yes, Actual Poetry He Actually Wrote.)

Earlier today, we shared the first installment of GQ correspondent Amy Wallace's miraculous find: a self-published, rarely seen, impossible-to-find collection of poetry written by Sheen in the early ‘90s, titled A Peace of My Mind. And we promised to post more selections from the volume over the next day or two. Here’s the second installment. Once again: we swear to the Pope and all his assassins that every word of this is real. Keep coming back here for more.

I.D. Blues
By Charlie Sheen


“Excuse me, aren’t you…?”
“Hey, you look just like…”
“Oh my God, that’s…”
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but aren’t you…”
“Look, I never do this, but, my wife thinks you’re…”
“My friend is so convinced that you’re…”
“I’m so embarrassed, but, aren’t you…?”
“I know you must be tired of this, but…”
“WAIT!!”
All eyes held in stare, all mouths locked open in shock, as he pulled the latex Charlie Sheen mask from his head, revealing the rotted skull of President Lincoln.

GQ Exclusive: The Selected Poetry Of Charlie Sheen(Yes, Actual Poetry He Actually Wrote.)
In the course of reporting her fascinating profile of Charlie Sheen for the April issue of GQ, Amy Wallace got her hands on a self-published, rarely seen, hard-to-find collection of poetry written by Sheen in the early ‘90s. The cover (shown above) was illustrated by the man who directed him in The Chase, and the book was distributed to a small handful of Sheen’s close friends. We swear to the Pope and all his assassins that every word of this is real. So, over the course of the next few of days, the GQ Tumblr will be posting various selections from the volume, which is titled A Peace of My Mind [sic, all of it]. Below is the first installment. Keep coming back here for more.

A Thoughtless SoulBy Charlie Sheen As he pulled his head, From the drool stained pillow, His eyes blood red, His oxygen shallow. Feet on carpet, That pain to fight, These are the effects, Of another night. A night of drink, A night of hate, A night as dark, As last nights date. A look to the mirror, No face of youth, Self inflicted carnage, A cracked and hollow tooth. This punishment a vile choice, So worthless, yet so bold. Carving lines of disrespect, This young lad growing old. Yet masking truth and hiding pain, Will surely take it’s toll, Will he unto others, or to himself, Remain a thoughtless soul?

GQ Exclusive:
The Selected Poetry Of Charlie Sheen
(Yes, Actual Poetry He Actually Wrote.)

In the course of reporting her fascinating profile of Charlie Sheen for the April issue of GQ, Amy Wallace got her hands on a self-published, rarely seen, hard-to-find collection of poetry written by Sheen in the early ‘90s. The cover (shown above) was illustrated by the man who directed him in The Chase, and the book was distributed to a small handful of Sheen’s close friends. We swear to the Pope and all his assassins that every word of this is real. So, over the course of the next few of days, the GQ Tumblr will be posting various selections from the volume, which is titled A Peace of My Mind [sic, all of it]. Below is the first installment. Keep coming back here for more.

A Thoughtless Soul
By Charlie Sheen


As he pulled his head,
From the drool stained pillow,
His eyes blood red,
His oxygen shallow.

Feet on carpet,
That pain to fight,
These are the effects,
Of another night.

A night of drink,
A night of hate,
A night as dark,
As last nights date.

A look to the mirror,
No face of youth,
Self inflicted carnage,
A cracked and hollow tooth.

This punishment a vile choice,
So worthless, yet so bold.
Carving lines of disrespect,
This young lad growing old.

Yet masking truth and hiding pain,
Will surely take it’s toll,
Will he unto others, or to himself,
Remain a thoughtless soul?

Coke, Hookers, Rehab, Repeat

Sheen says that for too long he was “being the guy that I thought they needed me to be and always feeling like I was the last person taken care of in the mix, you know. Always. Always the last guy considered. And listen, that’s over. It’s done. It’s pissing everybody off, because they always had an expectation based on predictable reactions. And now they don’t, and they don’t know what to do.”
It’s hard to know who “they” are. His ex-wives? His parents? His favorite porn stars? I ask him, after all the hard work he’s done getting clean in the past, what is it that keeps luring him back to the party? “All that shit was inauthentic,” he says. The partying? I ask. “No,” he says. “The fucking AA shit. The sobriety shit. It was always for other people. I just wanted to get a job back and get enough money to tell everybody to go fuck themselves and then roll like Errol Flynn and Frank Sinatra—the good parts of those guys.”
Is he saying that this time he’s approaching rehab more authentically? I ask. Or is he saying the opposite: that rehab itself is inauthentic? “I’m going to ride the winds of the universe,” Sheen says mischievously, and for a moment he sounds like Kurtz’s sidekick, the strung-out photographer-philosopher played by Dennis Hopper in Apocalypse Now. “How about that? How about that?”

Because of Charlie Sheen’s ongoing, live streaming self-destructo-thon, we decided to scramble and post GQ correspondent Amy Wallace’s forthcoming inside look at Sheen’s life. Consider it a very early sneak peak at our April 2011 issue. **Note: that’s a photo illustration—an excellent one by Peter Rad—and not an actual shot of Charlie Sheen. Although it totally could be, right?**

Coke, Hookers, Rehab, Repeat

Sheen says that for too long he was “being the guy that I thought they needed me to be and always feeling like I was the last person taken care of in the mix, you know. Always. Always the last guy considered. And listen, that’s over. It’s done. It’s pissing everybody off, because they always had an expectation based on predictable reactions. And now they don’t, and they don’t know what to do.”

It’s hard to know who “they” are. His ex-wives? His parents? His favorite porn stars? I ask him, after all the hard work he’s done getting clean in the past, what is it that keeps luring him back to the party? “All that shit was inauthentic,” he says. The partying? I ask. “No,” he says. “The fucking AA shit. The sobriety shit. It was always for other people. I just wanted to get a job back and get enough money to tell everybody to go fuck themselves and then roll like Errol Flynn and Frank Sinatra—the good parts of those guys.”

Is he saying that this time he’s approaching rehab more authentically? I ask. Or is he saying the opposite: that rehab itself is inauthentic? “I’m going to ride the winds of the universe,” Sheen says mischievously, and for a moment he sounds like Kurtz’s sidekick, the strung-out photographer-philosopher played by Dennis Hopper in Apocalypse Now. “How about that? How about that?”

Because of Charlie Sheen’s ongoing, live streaming self-destructo-thon, we decided to scramble and post GQ correspondent Amy Wallace’s forthcoming inside look at Sheen’s life. Consider it a very early sneak peak at our April 2011 issue.
**Note: that’s a photo illustration—an excellent one by Peter Rad—and not an actual shot of Charlie Sheen. Although it totally could be, right?**