I just finished reading Alec Baldwin’s diatribe in New York Magazine, where he attempts to justify punching photographers and getting Shia LeBeouf fired from the play Orphans.
I’m not among those haters who loathe the mere existence of Alec Baldwin. But, then again, I’m not gay. I always enjoyed his WNYC podcast “Here’s The Thing” and loved his recent performance as cheating spouse in Blue Jasmine.
I will say, however, that reading his long-winded justifications for his angry outbursts became monotonous after a while. All I could think was, “Can’t your wife, Hilaria, the yoga teacher, show you some breathing exercises, man?
Today I thank God my celebrity status is such that no cares if I punch a photographer, get into a screaming match with a Starbucks clerk or wants to camp outside my apartment building with a long lens.