Dear Courtney Love,
I get it. You're a rebel in Louboutins. An enigma with collagen-packed lips and a closet full of couture. A rock star, a fashion muse, a businesswoman, a mother ... mother to a child who lost her dad and was forced to emancipate herself from her only living parent because her only living parent is an attention-addicted trainwreck of a nutjob.
[UPDATE: Apparently Court sobered up at some point and scrubbed most of the pictures so the links don't all work anymore--but a sample follows, after the jump. . . .]
Last week you were profiled in the New York Times, stumbling around nekkid in front of the reporter, who dutifully filed the sadly inevitable (but only because you make it so) "Courtney is a mess" story.
Now this week you're blowing up Twitter with bare-ass photos of yourself, looking like you're about to shove a Morocccan lamp up your bum and making out with Paz de la Huerta; an irritating young actress who's already plotting to pick up your mantle of self-obsessed, exhibitionistic lunacy.
But Paz is in her twenties. If ever there's a time to be an annoying, self-obsessed mess it's during your twenties. You, Courtneyyou're in your late fortiesand while yes, you look good, in a freakishly plastic-surgeried way, you're a mess. You're messy like Charlie Sheen is messy. A wreck à la David Hasselhoff. A tragedy in the making like Lindsay Lohan, but again, she's in her twenties and has plenty of time to redeem herself.
I get that aging is hard when you work in an industry where youth is everything. But unless you decide to off yourself, the march of time is inevitabledrunkenly exhibiting your bare ass online isn't going to slow it down, nor does it make you appear more youthful (just more cray-cray).
I mean, look at Cher. She's in her sixties, is still hot and works it. Be more like Cher, less like Janice Dickinson.
But back to your kid. I'm not one of those people who hold mothers to a higher standard than fathers, but in this case there isn't a dad, so you're all young Francis Bean has got. So shape up, Crazytrain. Get thee to rehab, call a therapist, and quit injecting weird shit into your face. And while you're at it, put on some goddamned pants.