Tom Cruise has kept himself and his newly-created family under wraps for almost three months since the birth of Suri Cruise. At this point, he and Katie Holmes implore the media for privacy, when only a few months ago, the couple couldn’t possibly score enough photo opportunities. Leave me alone, but for the love of Scientology, please go to my movies.

After the past fifteen months of Cruise weirdness, it’s bloody obvious that the fellow has issues and is now coping with the fallout of extended terrible publicity. The major problem with Cruise is that he kept his private life under wraps for twenty odd years, and thus the only perception of him was the roles that he played. Therefore, he was essentially lovable as the larger-than-life Jerry MacGuire, the uber-closeted Maverick, and Vampire Lestat. Tom Cruise was an enigma, and the general public seemed satisfied with that distance.

Then came the Katie Holmes-for-hire relationship and the May 2005 Oprah Winfrey couch-jumping incident. And Tom let it all hang out. And it wasn’t pretty. What in the holy hell happened to our demi-god Cruise? Once larger than life, he was now just obnoxious. The public wasn’t happy - we almost feel like we were tricked for all those years, and it caused anger and animosity. Tom Cruise was a gratuitous, insincere creep. We didn’t like the “real” Tom Cruise and wished he would have just remained a fantasy.

Whatever intentions Tom Cruise had for expressing himself so deeply and oddly have backfired drastically. Now Tom’s people have perhaps convinced him of the error of his ways, and he’s retreated for awhile. He says he wants his privacy, and after all this buildup with the Katie relationship and the birth of Suri-with-fringe-whereever, Tom pushes away the eyes that cannot help but follow him out of a morbid curiosity. What a dick.

Thus, I’m completely tired of Tom Cruise and will only provide my lurkers with commentary concerning the essential happenings. Of course, “essential” would include Tom growing a second penis, which as Hubbard would have it, would be impotent as well as the first.

Zonker should be happy to finally hear of this development, since he physically pulled me aside in March (at Chrissy’s lovely home, which shall soon be resurrected). The darling Zonker had a request for me along the lines of “Would you please stop writing about Tom Cruise? Why does he fascinate you so?” My answer was that I write about things that amuse me, and at that point Tom amused me greatly. This is no longer the case.