On Wednesday evening my husband and I watched Artie Lange's stand up special, "It's the Whiskey Talking" which I had found used for five bucks and stuffed in my husband's Christmas stocking. I fell asleep halfway through it and when I awoke I uttered, "I can't believe this guy is even still alive." What I meant was that it was clear he was spinning out of control with his drinking and drugging and I assumed he would have pulled a Belushi by now and OD'd.
So it was really freaky to read this headline from the New York Post yesterday, "Artie Lange Stabbed Himself 9 Times"...
"Troubled comic Artie Lange landed in the hospital after stabbing himself nine times in an apparent suicide attempt, sources told The Post. Lange's frantic mom called 911 Saturday morning after she entered his Hoboken apartment and found the bloodied funnyman, a law-enforcement source said. Lange sustained six "hesitation wounds" and three deep plunges."
If someone didn't know who Lange is they would probably think this sounds like total bullshit, but those of us who are familiar with his self-destructive behavior know it's probably not. In case you don't know who Lange is, he's Howard Stern's sidekick (but apparently hasn't been on the show for a couple of weeks), a stand-up comedian, an actor who had a gig on Mad TV until he screwed that up, an author who came out with a book last year, his memoir "Too Fat to Fish" which was pretty good and I think did pretty well since it landed on the NY Times bestseller list.
He also starred in a couple of B movies, most notably as Santa in "Elf" with Will Farrel. I remember him saying how much money he had made just from that one scene from the residuals every time it played. I think it was on 24 hour rotation on some channel this holiday season so Lange must've scored big. I guess all those royalty checks pouring in were the last straw.
It must really suck to be rich and famous, even if you're only semi-famous. It must suck so much that some rich people think about getting a knife and stabbing themselves nine freaking times to just end it all. It must suck so mega much that taking pills, or jumping in front of a train is not even an option to be thought of when thinking about killing one's self, and that the only way to end the miserable existence of being a millionaire/drug addict/comic/actor/best-selling author has to be to take a blade and shove it inside your fleshy body numerous times, unsuccessfully, so that your mother could find you bleeding to death when she brings food over to feed your pathetic fat face. Nice son.
Yup, it must really suck to be as rich and famous as Artie. I wouldn't know as obviously I'm nowhere as rich, famous, nor miserable, as he is. Since he failed in his stabbing suicide attempt, I'm guessing his next book will be titled, "Too Fat to Filet."
My son said I'm taking this suicide attempt too personal. And I guess I am. I'm pissed. I've always liked Artie. He was the one bright spot on the Stern show. I could relate to his upbringing (not the drug part) but the tight Italian family part, especially his relationship with his mother, who he always spoke so lovingly about. How could he do this to her and to his sister? I feel for her more than him. I know from reading his memoir that he harbored some guilt (waaaaaa! what Italian child doesn't?) for his father's accident, but I think he's used that as an excuse for way too long. I could never get into his mind and know all the real reasons he did what he did, but to me it's just plain cowardly and selfish. If he couldn't take living up in the New Jersey/New York area he should have done what I did 15 years ago, move to Virginia, or anywhere else. His mother would have preferred visiting him there rather than the hospital and/or his grave. I hope Mrs. Lange finds peace and Artie finds his mind. Good luck you dope.