Everything that is wrong with Hollyweird and its enablers can be summed up in two words: Courtney Love.
Here is a '60s-born trust fund baby who became a drugged-out stripper, a critically acclaimed singer who couldn't sing, and a critically acclaimed actress who couldn't act except when she was playing -- what else? -- a drugged-out stripper.
Along the way, she became pregnant with grunge rocker Kurt Cobain's baby, during which time she reportedly shot up heroin. After Cobain committed suicide, Love cashed in, dropped their toddler off at Grandma's, stole a married entertainment industry mogul away from his pregnant wife, assaulted and threatened journalists, terrorized airline employees and passengers around the world, overdosed on painkillers, and every once in a while paraded her tragic child at movie premieres while tottering about high and half-nude on the red carpet.
Oh, and I haven't even gotten to last week's breast-flashing performance on CBS's "Late Night with David Letterman," the microphone-hurling tantrum at a club after her striptease on Letterman, and the concert stage dive the day after that sent a newspaper photographer to the hospital.
Stripper-turned-celebrity Courtney Love is a wretched embarrassment as a musician, movie star and mother. "Where's Frances?!" she screeched when she lost her daughter backstage at the Grammys last month. After locating the child, Love abandoned her and went out boozing with fellow exhibitionist Paris Hilton. Upon swallowing at least 20 milligrams of OxyContin recently, Love was nursed by Frances, now 11, who made her strung-out (biological) mother some green tea while they waited for an ambulance. "I made it fun," Love explained to People magazine. "I said it was going to be gross, and I was going to have to make myself throw up, but it was going to be OK."
As muckraking authors Andrew Breitbart and Mark Ebner note in their scathing and exhaustive New York Times best-seller, "Hollywood, Interrupted," Love ranks "among the most troubled and twisted alumni of the entertainment industry annals of fame and its discontents." She merits her own chapter in their brave book, but she is hardly alone (see Michael Jackson, Winona Ryder, Madonna, Anne Heche, River Phoenix, etc., etc., etc.). Breitbart and Ebner offer an unflinching investigation of celebrity miscreants and their industry, "which condones -- if not outright rewards -- pathological behavior."