Comedy utility belt w. Slander, unholstered. Here then, obtained under circumstances I don't have the time to fabricate, are some excerpted pages from Joaquin Phoenix's diary, detailing his bearded activities over the last several months: __ May 5th 2008: Dear Diary, It hit me last night: I'm sick of acting. I've spent 30 years of my life pretending to be someone I'm not. That's crazy. Isn't it better to "Pretend To Be Someone You Are"? Hmm. That doesn't sound quite right. I shouldn't have gotten that tattooed so fast. May 18th 2008: Dear Diary, I was in McDonald's today, staring vacantly at the menu, searching for some direction in life. Did you know they have wraps now? Of course not, how could you? YOU'RE JUST A BOUND COLLECTION OF INDIVIDUAL PIECES OF PAPER! How silly of me. Anyways, I think I'm going to be a rap star now. June 5th 2008: Dear Diary, Did you know that since Kenny Rogers, no contemporary hip-hop artists have had a huge bushy beard? When I realized that, it was as if God reached down and patted me affectionately on the bum. This is it diary. I can feel it. It's really happening. July 22nd 2008: Dear Diary, You know who's just incredible? Jodie Foster. I am just FASCINATED by her. I have been reading web sites about Jodie Foster all day, and have just ordered a whole bunch of books about her off Amazon. I wonder if she enjoys rap performances. August 3rd 2008: Dear Diary, I mailed anthrax to someone today. I don't even know who it was. Is that fucked up? I don't know. August 8th 2008: Dear Diary, Two men from the FBI came to the house today. They asked if I had mailed anthrax to anyone lately. I told them I couldn't have, then paused for five seconds before sarcastically adding "Obviously" and pointing at my beard. They thanked me and left the house. August 9th 2008: Dear Diary, I have to write quietly. I think my beard has been bugged. Wait. Shut up for a second. No, just shut up for a second. Shhhhhh. Did you hear that? September 18th 2008: Deary Diary, I bought the house across the street from where Jodie Foster lives today. Hopefully we'll accidentally bump into each other, and I can compliment her on her wrist bones. September 19th 2008: Dear Diary, Still no contact with JF. Will keep you advised. September 20th 2008: Dear Diary, No contact with JF. Morale remains high. September 21st 2008: Dear Diary, What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK? Doesn't that bitch ever need groceries? September 25th 2008: Dear Diary, I apologize if my writing is shaky. I'm writing this from the back of a van carrying migrant laborers on the way to Arizona. Oh, I should explain. After my last entry, I snuck into Jodie Foster's house wearing a huge rubber mask. The rubber mask was of me (an old Gladiator promotional item I think). She wasn't in at the time, and as I didn't want to intrude, I left after splashing some water from her toilet on me. When I walked out the front door there were two police cars there, and I had to run for it. I managed to get away I think - fortunately because of the mask, they thought it was only me in there. September 25th 2008 Addendum: Dear Diary, I forgot to mention, during my escape I found myself hiding underneath a taco van parked on the side of the road. That's where I met my new friends, who kindly offered to take me with them if I promised not to rap at them any more. October 5th 2008: Dear Diary, Back home again. Did you know that tampering with Tylenol bottles is still pretty easy? I'm not saying I'm going to put these back on store shelves, I'm just saying that anyone could do this if they thought two seconds about it. October 26th 2008: Dear Diary, I was promoting my last movie today when I realized I forgot to tell everyone that I had retired from acting. I corrected that immediately, then paused to see if my beard wanted to add anything. She didn't. November 18th 2008: Fuck you Diary! FUCK YOU! December 13th 2008: Dear Diary, I was caught masturbating on the bus today, although if you ask me, you can't really claim I was "caught," because I wasn't trying to hide it at all. Similar story when I was "caught" masturbating in the police cruiser later. January 9th 2009: Dear Diary, To prepare for my upcoming rap debut, I've intensified my training. Today I fought a series of fistfights against homeless men, each one deadlier than the last. January 16th 2009: Deary Diary, I had my first rap show today. It went pretty good. I rocked my track "Mumble Fucker." It was pretty tight. Then I broke into some freestyle which I think everyone enjoyed, except for fake people. To wrap it all up, I leaned heavily against a wall for about two minutes before launching into a remix of "Mumble Fucker." When I was leaving the stage gravity sort of went a little sideways a bit, and I took a tumble. I've been reading the papers all day today to see what the scientists have to say about that, but nothing. Someone's gotten to them. Maybe a new government weapon. February 10th 2009: Dear Diary, I watched the Discovery Channel for like 12 straight hours yesterday and it totally got me into the mood for science. I've been experimenting all day today, and have discovered that if you take some Bounce dryer sheets and roll them up really tightly, they can be smoked. February 12th 2009: Dear Diary, I think I was on the David Letterman show last night, because I keep reading Internet sites about me being on the David Letterman show last night. I honestly can't remember. I was freebasing Bounce sheets all day Tuesday (more science - forgot to mention) and sort of blinked off there. February 17th 2009: Dear Diary, Oh no! My diary's missing! How did that happen? I don't even know how I'm writing this. I hope I'm not going crazy.
We haven't made much hay out of Joaquin Phoenix's descent into bearded insanity here at Cracked, partly because we've have all this other high quality stuff to talk about, and partly because we're so goddamned lazy. Also, as seems pretty clear to me at least, Phoenix is faking the entire thing in pursuit of some sort of misguided meta-movie project, an activity I have no interest in condoning. This whole thing reeks of vanity and beard sweat. I don't want to support the whole "Joaquin Phoenix is crazy" industry by making easily spotted jokes about his easily spotted fake craziness, but, as I still have a column to write, I'm going to have to make up better jokes about Phoenix instead, using my favorite tool in my comedy utility belt: Slander.