The Care and Feeding of a Charlie Sheen

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The Two and a Half Men star is in the midst of a very public meltdown. How to treat him accordingly.

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Congratulations! As the proud, new owner of a Charlie Sheen, you and your family can look forward to endless hours of fun and excitement. Caring for your Charlie Sheen isn't all fun and games, though. Raising a Charlie Sheen takes work, and there is so much to learn that it can all seem a little overwhelming—especially for a first-time Charlie Sheen owner. Not to worry. With a little love and patience, and by following a few simple rules, you'll ensure that your pet Sheen will thrive in his new home.

First, there's no reason to sugarcoat it: caring for a Charlie Sheen costs a lot of money. Living expenses will be roughly $2 million a week, give or take a million, and that only covers the basics—things like clothing, shelter, and renting the company of porn stars. To really feel comfortable in his new home, your Charlie Sheen is also going to need a retinue of parasites and sycophants. And a new publicist. Or, preferably, a team of them.

Your Charlie Sheen does not sleep. He also he does not require food in the traditional sense. The only sustenance he requires, in fact, is a very rare drug that's coincidentally also named "Charlie Sheen," that's mysteriously supplied by an unknown process within a Charlie Sheen's body. That life-giving chemical process may occasionally have to augmented, however, by seven grams of crack.Generally, your Charlie Sheen will be impervious to physical harm. If he is injured, however, it's important to know that his body will reject a transfusion of human blood, and you should always keep a fresh supply of tiger blood on hand.

At times, your new Charlie Sheen may look very sick. His skin will turn a waxy yellow. His eyes will be black, and lifeless as a shark's, and he will have the stench of death upon him. This is perfectly normal and nothing to worry about.

You may also experience "Charlie Sheenitude," a series of manic, increasingly angry, pseudo-philosophical rants combining elements of Hip-Hop braggadocio, French Symbolist poetry, and the mutterings of a schizophrenic who's gone off meds. This, too, is quite normal. Also, he may put a knife to his wife's throat or accidentally shoot Kelly Preston. In Sheen-land, this is known as "loving violently," and it's also no cause for alarm. That is, until he kills somebody.

The Charlie Sheen is a temperamental breed so it's important to always try and keep yours as calm as possible. (See above re: violence=love.) Because Charlie Sheens are disdainful of people who change their names for professional reasons, do not remind him that he was born "Carlos Estevez." You similarly shouldn't let him watch YouTube mashupvideos of his craziest sound bytes, visit the Charlie Sheen Random Quote Generator, or let him take the "Who Said It, Sheen or Qaddafi?" quiz. Also, try to keep dangerous objects out of reach, especially knives, guns, and books about September 11th conspiracy theories.

Do not mention the names McLean Stevenson, Suzanne Summers, or Shelley Long. Also, if at all possible, try to avoid bringing up Thomas Jefferson.

Do not, under any circumstances, point out that the F-18 has been superseded by the F-22 Raptor and F-35 Joint Strike Fighter.

If your Charlie Sheen does become agitated, don't worry. He is not bipolar. He is bi-winning. He can easily be calmed, simply by licking his feet. Then apologize, give him a raise, and thank him profusely for allowing you to live in his CharlieSheen-iverse.

It is even possible that your Sheen will compare his current drug-and-booze binges to those of legendary partiers like Errol Flynn, Frank Sinatra, and Keith Richards. Try not to laugh when he does this. Don't mention that Richards, or Hunter S. Thompson in his glory days, would chop up punks like Sheen with a razor blade and snort them for breakfast. Also don't tell Sheen that people like Thompson, Sinatra, and Keith Richards managed to make great art in the midst of their substance abusing, while he, on the other hand, has all the emotional range of a houseplant, and somehow manages to be unconvincing playing himself, and has made a grand total of three watchable films in his entire career.

Certainly, you shouldn't point out that his doomed show, Two and a Half Men, is a dazzling example of the sitcom at its very worst—a crude, contrived, incredibly predictable onslaught of vicious insults and fart jokes masquerading as entertainment.

Like so many in Hollywood, though, your Sheen will be under the impression that the American people pay close attention to everything that comes out of their TVs, rather than just having shows on as background noise. This delusion causes a Charlie Sheen to vastly overestimate his own appeal. Don't be surprised, therefore, if your Sheen flogs the same punchlines week after week for nine straight years, and expects you to laugh uproariously every time. When this dreck gets tiresome, and it will, just add a laugh track. He'll never know the difference. Or try one of those shock-collars they use to keep dogs from barking.

One last word of advice. You may have friends, neighbors, or even loved ones who don't like your new Charlie Sheen. Obviously, they are all contaminated maggots and idiotic earthworms, clearly not winners who win by winning, lacking the brainpower necessary to comprehend the audaciously gnarly gnarlyness of such a radical Vatican Assassin Warlock Rock Star from Mars. They will try to tell you that TV and radio people shouldn't put Charlie Sheen on the air, sanctimoniously calling his wildly entertaining appearances "enabling a public suicide." These do-gooders may even claim that Charlie Sheen is locked in a downward spiral. They'll say he's on a grisly, drug-and-alcohol induced ride into Hell; that he's a danger to himself, a threat to everyone around him, and if he doesn't get help, or go to prison first, he'll dead in a year.

Forget those killjoys. All they want to do is ruin our fun—the Best. Celebrity. Meltdown. Ever. If Charlie Sheen is going to ruin himself for our amusement, certainly the least we can do is watch. Fame, after all, is America's real favorite bloodsport. How else are we supposed to feel superior to our celebrities if we can't watch them self-destruct of national TV? Besides, we need something to talk about until March Madness starts—and while we're waiting to see what Lindsay Lohan and Miley Cyrus will do next.

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Hampton Stevens is a writer based in Kansas City, Missouri. His work has appeared in The Atlantic, ESPN the Magazine, Playboy, Gawker, Maxim, and many more publications.

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