When Charlie Sheen announced that he'd be bringing his, uh, "show" to Detroit and Chicago, our first response was "What the fuck's he gonna do, performance-wise?". Our second was the realization that both shows would sell out. Fast.
One thing the Charlie Sheen meltdown has taught us is that we humans sure do enjoy our public meltdowns. Hell, we not only slow down to take a look, we buy tickets at upwards of $85 a pop.
Considering his recent online broadcasts were free and left a whole lot to be desired, we can't for the life of us imagine this guy pulling it together enough to present a decent show in the little time he has between when the dates were announced and when the first shows go down in early April.
Of course, we've got April 1 in the office death pool, so there is the very real possibility that these shows won't even take place and that those who bought tickets will be left with a collector's item, of sorts. Kinda like someone left holding a Led Zep ticket after Bonham punched his own ticket.
If Sheen does somehow manage to live long enough to see that these shows actually take place, what if he ends up putting on a better show than Conan O'Brien did? It's obvious the guy is using Conan's template to garner public sympathy and support after getting canned from his network TV gig. Twitter account, check. National tour, check. The only thing left to do now is dye his hair red and grow a beard.
Ah, who we kidding? This thing's gonna be a total trainwreck.
Those who bought tickets will, more than likely, be left feeling like the many fame-seeking bimbos that get invited back to his place, but who ultimately leave in tears. Their dreams of being made to feel a part of the excitement will quickly give way to the screaming realization that Charlie Sheen's world is an empty one, lorded over by a drug-addled psychopath who is hell-bent on seeing just how far he can push it before it breaks. He doesn't want to rock their world. He just wants someone around to call 911 when he crashes and burns.