Every Time Catherine Revved Up the Microwave, I'd Piss My Pants and Forget Who I Was for About Half an Hour or So
The central conceit of this column means that, at some point, I will be forced to write about Lindsay Lohan. In an effort to prolong our Lohan-free time until I absolutely have no other choice, I will eschew her coke-iness and flair for failure for now and instead talk about Randy Quaid.
I’m doing this for you. I’m sorry for loving you.
The sordid tale of the Quaids appears to have begun in 2004, according to a timeline from The Washington Post. Around that time, Quaid received tax liens from the IRS for tax delinquency. No big. Lots of celebrities are bad at taxes. Not crazy just yet.
In 2006, Quaid attempted to sue Focus Features when Brokeback Mountain made far more money than anyone imagined it could. Also not too bad. Cary Elwes did the same thing, and if Westley does it, it must be kind of okay.
In 2008, Quaid was banned for life from the Actors’ Equity Association and fined over $81,000 for physically and verbally abusing his fellow cast members and crew, causing the show to be canceled. After charges were filed, Quaid’s wife Evi showed up at the Equity Association headquarters and kicked a 70-plus-year-old receptionist. So, sure, maybe Evi’s a little bonkers, but perhaps Quaid’s merely a very method actor, in the vain of Brando.
Then, earlier this year, Quaid and Evi stayed-and-dashed on a $10,000 hotel bill, ditched out on subsequent court appearances, then finally showed up to court with his 1987 Golden Globe award in tow.
*collar pull* I got nothin’.
After that, Randy got away with little besides a dinged up reputation, but Evi, she of the crazy eyes, got three years probation and 240 hours of community service.
At this point, the world is convinced that the Randy Quaid portion of Independence Day was, in fact, a gritty documentary. So the twosome said “fuck it” and goes for crazy broke.
This past Saturday, the Quaids were arrested for squatting in a home the pair claimed to own. Their reasoning is that a third party forged the signature of a dead person to steal the property away from them. They broke in, screwed around with the security cameras, and hung a large portrait of themselves above the fireplace.
You guys, Joaquin Phoenix only wishes he could have pulled off crazy as well as these two.
Here’s the thing. Being in relationship with someone who suffers from bipolar disorder, I hate when people make fun of those who have serious and tragic mental illnesses. This is why you will never see me say anything bad about Britney Spears, no matter how rat’s nesty her hair may become. And yet, there are few things I love more than the fun kind of crazy. Look at what a good time they’re having. Stiffing hotel clerks, living in unoccupied houses, blaming dead ghost people, all while carrying around fancy awards? Awesome. They’re not suffering. Life’s a party. A squatter party where you hit people and call it acting.
Maybe they’re afflicted with an awful illness that will inevitably have terrible consequences. Maybe being Dennis Quaid’s brother and hanging out with Chevy Chase during his overly dickish period before he became a loveable curmudgeon was just too much to bear and the guy snapped, taking his wife with him. Maybe they just did a whole shitload of meth and are now balls-out bananas nuts (my real theory, which is how I can justify enjoying this). Who knows. But for now, Hollywood has been sorely lacking in proper eccentricity. They’re fulfilling that need. Thanks, Randy.
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