Owen Wilson Is Alive At the Beach

Yesterday Owen Wilson was at Venice Beach with his sober buddy, and a visible suicide scar on his left wrist. To successfully cut your wrist you need to cut parallel to hit one of the two arteries next to the bones, not perpendicular. This was both a cry for help, and attention. Please feel sorry for me. If I felt sorry for him, it would only make things worse. What he really needs is a real brush with death to snap him back to reality. If I were his friend I’d get a couple of guys together, kidnap him, keep him in a room tied up for a few days, tell him they won’t pay his ransom so we’re gonna have to kill him, and make him beg for his life. Then I’d blindfold him again, and drop him off near a pay phone with a quarter so he could call someone who cares. He’d have his sob story, attention, and he’d appreciate his life again. Plus he could tell everyone he fought off ten ninjas with only a toothpick, outran a train, made love to a beautiful girl after he saved her from a fate worse than death, and walked over hot lava with bare feet to get to a pay phone to call for help.