I’m pretty sure that Steve Martin is schizophrenic. As usual, I have no tangible evidence pointing me in one direction or the other, though if you just gauged his level of sanity from the above picture, I would side with my diagnosis.

It’s no secret that the majority of Hollywood actors more closely resemble whores than the artists that they proclaim themselves to be. Dangle a fat paycheck before the average actor’s face and they’ll drop to their knees faster than you can say Paris Hilton. Certainly, every actor or actress has to support themselves via their “talent” and there is a limited window in which an actor can collect huge paydays for a relatively minimal amount of work. However, like anything else, there’s a fine line between being greedy and wanting to put food on your table.

And then there is Steve Martin, who expresses most eloquently the reasons behind my disdain for most actors. Fabulously wealthy, Martin has been an above-the-line star since 1979’s “The Jerk.” For the majority of his career, he has acted in above-average to great comedies, including “Three Amigos,” “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles,” “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels,” “Parenthood,” “Father of the Bride,” “LA Story,” and “Bowfinger.” Definitely a run of films that most comedians would envy.

In addition to the aforementioned films, Martin has carved out a career for himself as a non-filmic writer, penning the novella, “Shopgirl,” the non-fiction book, “Pure Drivel,” the novel, “Pleasure of my Company,” and the play “Picasso at the Lapin Agile.”

And then in 2003, Martin was (I theorize) diagnosed with a savage case of schizophrenia, which I assume leads him to believe that he’s an artist one day and a stark-raving lunatic prone to starring in pure schlock the next. Of course, this is nothing to laugh at and I’m only writing about Steve Martin’s case to warn others of the perils of mental illness. Luckily for you my readers, I have spies embedded in Martin’s various homes who painstakingly described a scene that occured recently, a scene that illuminates the desperate, ghastly horrors of his illness.

The Schizophrenia of Steve Martin

Steve 1: The sun is out, reflecting sweet licks of light through the window panes. I nestle my head against them. Sun penetrates into my soul. I need to compose a tribute to the inscrutable madness of life.

Steve 2: What the fuck are you talking about, homo! You’ve got to shoot another scene of the “Pink Panther” today. Do you think this invory back-scratcher is going to pay for itself?

Steve 1: We purchased another ivory back-scratcher? I have no need for such frivolities. All I need is a warm cup of coffee, a pen, some paper, and the inexhaustible depths of my soul.

Steve 2: There you go again, blathering on and on. Look, stop trying to pretend to be deep to convince impressionable 25 year old girls to sleep with you. It’s LA, they’ll sleep with you because you’re rich. You don’t need to pretend to be an artist to fuck them.”

Steve 1: No, Steve 2. I don’t want another 25-year old girl. We’ve already slept with four of them this week. We need to create, to write plays, to be a man of the arts. A man who will be remembered in a 100 years.

Steve 2: Yeah, uh huh, right Steve 1. At any rate, Queen Latifah’s on the line, she wants to know if we can do a sequel for “Bringing Down the House.” Should I tell her we’ll do it.”

Steve 1: “Tell her no!!! She’s already asked me to do it 10 times! I just refuse to star in another sequel. Though I do find her brand of good-natured humor both sassy AND lovable. But the answer is still no!!”

Steve 2: “Okay, I told her, but she keeps on telling me how she just saw “Cheaper By the Dozen 2, and she thinks that you have a knack for low-budget cheesy kids movie sequels.”

Steve 1: “NO!! What I have a knack for is literature! No one understands the rugged ruins of the life that I have created for myself. When will I find a women who understands me? When I will find myself lying atop a Mt. Olympus of artistic giants?”

Steve 2: “Never you schmuck. You haven’t been in a decent movie since “Bowfinger.” Now let’s call it a day and do a film re-make of “Beverly Hillbillies.” It’s a gold mine, Steve 1. AND Brett Ratner’s attached to direct.”

Steve 1: “Hmm…Beverly Hillbillies. Well, I have had a lot of success with re-makes. The Pink Panther did make over $20 million last weekend. And no one ever seems to remember “Sgt. Bilko” anymore?”

Steve 2: “They’ll pay you $20 million and I’ll even buy you a really nice journal to write down your “intellectual” thoughts that you claim to have.

Steve 1: “Fine, but only if I can play a complicated and troubled Jedd Clampet. Albeit a wacky version.”

Steve 2: “Deal, I’ll call our agent. Let’s go look for 25-year 0lds now.”

Steve 1: “Sounds great! Can we pick up some lithium on the way?”

Steve 2: “You and I both know the answer to that Steve 1: No!! Now let’s go get a cabana at the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

Steve 1: “Swell.”

Stumble It!

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