Let me just tell you this, Tom. It’s on!
You got stupid on Oprah, jumped on the couch and declared your love for a child-woman; trashed some really nice people and we let you make it.
You pronounced yourself an expert on psychology. Knew all there was to know about postpartum depression, argued your questioners down that they didn’t know enough to be involved in a discourse with one of your expertise.
You involved innocent people in your charade, criticizing uninvolved people in your little and loud shrieking about something that you can’t live long enough to experience or understand.
Your headstrong involvement in your Church of Scientology would be admirable if you practiced tolerance as you attempt to hold the entire world to the standards of your perception of a religion you embrace. You, according to the tenets of your faith, believe in past lives and consider the individual to be a spiritual being of immortal nature. According to your religion, founded by L. Ron Hubbard in 1954, an individual may achieve better mental health by confronting memories that are not entirely accessible to the conscious mind.
That’s OK, Tom, if you want to believe that. Your belief, however, does not make anything about the rest of our lives a certainty. You have no business discussing the medical treatment of Brooke Shields after the birth of her baby.
You have no right to “over talk” an interviewer to the extent that the confrontation resulted in nothing except the total exposure of your bull-headedness and hubris.
I’m not sure that an individual ever died of hubris, but if so you should seek treatment right away. The world is laughing at you, Tom, and you don’t even get it.
First of all, you’re short. And, I submit to you that your current partner in parenting, a youngster half your age, can lose weight she gained during her pregnancy a lot quicker than you can grow taller. I understand little Suri measured out to be 20-inches long. You’ll be amazed how fast she’ll catch up with your short self, and you won’t be able to bully her into doing it any other way.
Nobody can see your baby? Even your closest Church of Scientology friends, according to yesterday’s reports, can’t see the baby, and your young partner can’t make a public appearance until she loses weight to fit your specifications.
Here’s one who hopes that she doesn’t put any conditions on you. You’d fail, you dope! Don’t you get it? The world is laughing.
If you love her — or if you don’t, see that you don’t leave her alone to the extent that she can consider the situation into which she has arrived. What if, God forbid, depression should set in on the young mother who, by all accounts, you have hidden away even from her own parents.
I’ve been thinking about your new baby, maybe more than it requires, but you have been more bizarre than any character portrayed in Rosemary’s Baby or The Exorcist. In no way would I wish bad karma on either you or your new baby. But new fathers usually want to show off the new offspring. And, unless this baby looks like Brad Pitt or Elvis Presley, you better let somebody see her, just to be certain that she is okay.
Soon enough she will find out that her name is Suri, and life as most children know it will be hard enough. Let her enjoy the baby life before she has to confront the Girl Scout Troop on “getting to know” day. Little girls have a way of leveling the playing field with children, who are different, have funny names and eccentric fathers.
I cannot imagine who Tom Cruise’s audience is going to be from here on out. Forget the female audience that in the past has swooned over your image. And, forget the male audience who ever intends to enjoy the presence of a woman again. I suspect that a mate who catches her husband drooling over action-packed Top Gun will suggest a channel change.
From today forward, Tom you can behave better. You can even repair your image to the extent that people don’t flee your presence. But, some parts of your belligerent, mean-spirited attacks of the past year about things of which you have no experience — and are not likely to — cannot be overcome.
Good people, knowledgeable people, gave you a chance to correct your words and actions as you jumped on couches, preached scientology, demeaned fellow actors and assumed knowledge far beyond your ability to learn or experience.
It’s insecurity, Tom. And, it’s permanent.
Get over yourself already!
Let me just tell you this, Tom. It’s on!
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