An Open Letter to Mr. Agassi

Dear Mr. Agassi,

So I understand you had a bit of a problem. A drug problem, with a particularly nasty dance partner. I guess the millions from tennis and shitty camera ads, a model wife, a long career doing something you love that typically has a shelf-life of about ten years tops, that didn't cut it. The swooning of a certain branch of the intelligentsia females who hold a particular sport in high-regards, usually playing it what with those skimpy skirts, and you, with your place in the throne of said competition, were anointed to make their hearts moisten and melt. But that wasn't enough.

No, when it all came down to it, you had to develop a drug habit. Now, this is not unheard of in your profession -- as athlete, but even as professional entertainer, what with the annals cutting back to everything from opium to mescalin to scips and what-have-you. In fact, this would be room for celebration in a lot of places, a comeback story, but really, and maybe this is the truest testament to bad decisions, it was the substance: Crystal Meth. Because really, your fame would have grown, you could have used it as something to showcase your further bravery (we can't all be Lance Armstrong, after all), but instead you picked up a drug that, for all intents and purposes, is left to the likes of truck stop whores in the most barren stretches of Oregon and Wyoming.

But I understand. Maybe you didn't know. Maybe you were unaware that there is a hierarchy to these things. A habit is a habit after all, but quite frankly the habit you chose could easily have been a boon, a statement, an altogether triumphal second (third?) career as university- or rally-lecturing shill. And it's all about the social acceptability.

Well, I've taken that into account. In fact, I've done something better. Below you'll find a list of the top drugs by social acceptability, with explainers as to why and how each could have affected your image. In fact, how you could have used them to advantage yourself and exactly the career choice you could have made.

So Mr. Agassi, for your perusal:
1) Weed. The Fountain of Youth doesn't exist. But this thing -- a former mainstay of college life now far removed from that environ -- has enabled children of all ages to maintain that sense of immaturity, slackerness, detachment. Best of all, it's apparently been found by the same people who promise all those helpful things on dietary supplements to be a veritable cure-all. Granted, the field is a bit crowded, what with Woody Harrelson and Willie Nelson taking all the spotlight glare, but don't let a couple of bloodshot eyes get in the way of the fact that you were number one in one arena, you can be number one in another. With the cache it has in the current arts community (and California, for that matter), could you imagine the cash in with the Rebel commercials (idea: play tennis, then smoke a spliff).

2) Prescription drugs. Now we're talking the proper, more age appropriate stuff. Vicodin, Percocet, Valium for god's sakes. Now, I don't want to get on my high horse, but I understand where you were at. A little older, a little paler and not so spry, but frankly this would have paved the way for exactly the new spokesperson. Let's face it: Prescription drugs are the new laudanum, and it's not just for women and feinting couches anymore. Yes, there is a bit more of a celebrity angle (think Brett Favre and Rush Limbaugh, among others), but those aside, you can most certainly get a few people interested in your life story with a few misplaced tears in a press conference and a trip to Betty Ford.

3) Cocaine. Teeth grinding and disintegrated nasal cavities aside, the juice behind power brokers and PR chicks can be your ticket to stardom. There's not too much to say here, but if it's good enough for Bernie Madoff, maybe it would have been a good enough choice for you. Besides, when somebody asks you how it all got started, you can respond with: "Five words: Now Sampras with the serve."

4) Alcohol. You know the drill, and being from Las Vegas I am almost positive you've seen it, you've seen the stories. Granted, the story has been a little bit done, but it's always good for a few sob stories and a quick day of reckoning from the more sociable of drinkers out there. Unfortunately, unless you're trying out for a role in Mad Men or a Bukowski novel, you might want to pass. The drug that has fueled many an Irish bout of black rage might not be the best choice, but it still has some points and is something many a person can identify with. My recommendation would be to put a contemporary spin on it: a $4 mil a day habit on this stuff. And really, who can cry about those bottles?

5) Nicotine. You know what I'm taking about: those filthy tar-drenched filters lining the gutter, padding an old coffee can, the clothes that smell like the inside of a defunct coal-furnace. The black lung, the morning cough, the twitches, headaches, and cravings, cravings, cravings. And after all that, I have a hard time recommending this one. Unfortunately, the drug of choice for near-on the twentieth century and the plant that built the American empire has really lost its luster as society moved to a post-industrial, less smelling of a chimney swoop day-in-day-out existence. With the effects being largely mild and fast, this could be a tough one to sell. However, if spinned properly, this could really work to your advantage: "I just needed a smoke while I driving with the baby on my lap" or "When those cravings hit, I couldn't help but break out a stick at the casket." This has its third rails, but with the proper massaging, could be quite lucrative.

6) Heroin. I know what you're thinking: I'm not sitting on a gritty novel in a loft somewhere in Edinburgh/San Francisco/Williamsburg. And you're right. I understand that's tough. And yes, the drug's limelight and heyday really was somewhere between the release of 1994'sPulp Fiction and 2000's Requiem for a Dream, but the drug really has a certain bohemian quality to it. You're a rebel, and it puts you in the same league as Billie Holiday, Miles Davis and Robert Downey Jr. Not bad company. And if all else fails, there's a spot on Celebrity Rehab waiting for you.

7) Hallucinogenics. While the stories you could tell would be interesting -- and who doesn't like day-to-day life looking like Pole Position on the Colecovision? -- its luster has long since rubbed off and is now really more of a curio and frankly a point of sadness mixed with indifference for everyone around. Although it still has the white vote, I'd recommend a pass on this.

8) MDMA, Ecstacy, Speed, etc. While this might get you a bit of attention and an invite to Blackrock City, in general the respectability of this is passed even among the youths, who have sine moved on to item 2. I'd suggest a pass on this as well, if only because it's still considered too recreational to merit anything but scorn.

9) Crack. Now, I have heard an account from a friend of mine, who has gone a bit native among the savages, that in fact this is a substance that best codifies and embodies that sensation of love. Cheap, dirty, alley sex with a cuddle session afterwards, like we all wished we had while we were still suckling. Unfortunately, it's also a dirty, cheap version of number 3, and as Whitney Houston proved a quick grounds to obscurity and Republicanism. Bobby Brown aside.

10) Crystal Methamphetamine. See comments in the intro. The drug of desert trailer parks and places with bar closings of ten p.m.

So in summation, Mr. Agassi, I hope this has been informative for when the sequel to the memoir is published. While I can't condone the use of any of these substances, cashing in on them can be an entirely different matter, if the particular substance has been chosen properly.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to go back to my bourbon.

Sincerely,

-Geof

Excuse me while I attend to my Brecht

Having been slightly chided for my last, football-referencing post, the Good Addler will now refrain for exactly fifteen minutes and instead talk about his weekend. In tones mauve and taupe. Think of it as his summer vacation post, a one-day snippet from the permanent vacation that is his life, and rather only two events from it. Like canoeing and poison sumac, only not in that order and not comparable in the enjoyability department.

First off: Bronson. Saw the movie, had some thoughts. But to get you all caught up, here's the trailer --

Now, to catch you guys up, this was the same director as the well-regarded Pusher series, which I have not seen but understand that it gives him some indie street cred. The story: A biopic based on the most dangerous man in the UK prison system. The story on the story: The prisoner realizes that he's always wanted to be famous, and further realizes he's become so in prison by beating up guards. The story behind all that: You have to do something to be famous, you idiot. Besides beat up guards. Now cue the Brecht, now cue A Clockwork Orange.

So I guess the best news of all of this is that it's oh-so timely (I should probably underline that, but it'd be too much). A black comedy to the point that when Tom Hardy strips to his skin-suit (literally, he fights the guards in the buff), all I can think as his junk is dangling there is how hilarious it all looks. The mustache doesn't help. Of course, I didn't realize I was going in costume, what with the neglect for getting dressed and the mustache and chrome-top I was rocking at the theater. You get the idea, and that is an aside.

Tom Hardy, however, is the reason to see this. Some of the direction I'm not sure about, but Hardy pulls off both menacing wild dog and and absolute dopiness at the same time. Which seemed about right for the character -- the character is essentially a big mewling baby, and the facial expressions, the fighting angry, the craving for attention, the general cluelessness. As an artistic direction, they also threw in some cabaret elements. Again, interesting, and Hardy pulls it off, but ultimately I'm not convinced it couldn't have been a better film.

And if we could just get the guy a loincloth.

@ @ @

And on the other front, I went to see roller derby on Saturday. All female, naturally, tons of hip checks, women displaying inhumanity to other women. With cheerleaders and bondage gear on the sideline. There should be pictures, but I couldn't sneak into the locker room.

There's your sumac.