You may be sitting out there, staring at your screen, trying to figure out why I have not as yet had anything to say about the marital discord of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Let me put your mind at ease: I do care. Really. Not as much as I care about the upcoming election. Not as much as I care about car stereos that I used to own. Not as much as I care about lawn darts. With all of this being said, I suppose I can understand why you might be sitting there, staring at your screen wondering when I would get around to discussing the marital discord of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Well, fret no more, because here it comes.
The first thing that I have to say about Brad and Angelina's looming divorce is that it is none of my business. Absolutely none. Which is part of the reason why I feel so free to comment on it. I have nothing to gain or lose by speaking my mind on the relationship struggles of two of Hollywood's biggest stars. That's the reason I feel comfortable saying that it's amazing that two of Hollywood's biggest stars bothered to get married in the first place. Back in the day, when they were just two happy-go-lucky kids on the rebound from their previous high-profile relationships. Remember, before Angelina Jolie was named special envoy to the United Nations, and started adopting all those kids and solving the refugee crisis all on her own, she was wearing a vial of Billy Bob Thornton's blood around her neck. Typical girl-next-door behavior. If the girl next door happens to be Dracula's daughter. Or Jon Voight's daughter. Maybe this isn't the model of stability we were looking for.
And what about Brad? He had previously been happily ensconced in a romance with America's late twentieth century sweetheart, Jennifer Aniston. He broke her heart and sold a ton of magazines when he ducked out on poor, sweet Jenn to cat around with that hussy. The hussy previously known as Mrs. Billy Bob. And so, with all of this background, why would we expect from these two speeding locomotives anything but a train wreck? Well, because it's Hollywood and we would all like to believe in that happy ending. Instead, we got a Hollywood ending. A messy, finger-pointing, tabloid ending with everyone wondering what could possibly have gone wrong. Who is to blame? I can tell you: Me. I am to blame because I care. Too much. Too much because I care at all.