Fug My Sons

Apparently, there were a bunch of Scientology protesters outside the theater on the official opening night of All My Sons — including a few with signs that read “SAVE KATIE + SURI” and “KATIE WHAT HAS SCIENTOLOGY COST YOU?” and all that. I love imagining that one of these people had the romantic notion that Katie would see that message and be like, “Sweet Xenu, IT HAS COST ME EVERYTHING,” and run off to catch the first flight to Belize.

Now, I do realize that Katie probably didn’t anticipate protesters. But I ask you: Is this outfit really what you’d wear to prove your sanity and stability to a bunch of concerned citizens with too much time and too many art supplies on their hands?

[Photo: WENN]

Because to ME, this outfit says she’s losing her marbles. That she has not eaten anything with a calorie content since about May. And that she’s blinded by an insomniac insanity that’s led to her spending every waking hour — many of them in the middle of the night, in the attic, alone, while Tom is encased in his hyperbaric napping chamber or whatever — rubbing any lamps, canisters, martini shakers, propane tanks, or other lidded vessels she can find in the hope that a genie or other mythical wish-granting creature will pop out and release her from the bonds of Holy Crazymony. And I am just not sure there’s enough ink in a Sharpie to rescue her from that.