You guys, Alec Baldwin is pissed. And it's not like those other times he was pissed. It's way worse than when he called his 11-year-old daughter a "rude, thoughtless little pig," or when he threw iced coffee at a carful of teenagers, or when he got kicked off an American Airlines flight, or when he called a reporter a "toxic little queen," or when he pinned a photographer to the hood of a car in broad daylight in front of other photographers.

No, this time Alec is so pissed that he sat with New York Magazine for a 5,000 word essay about the heartbreak that is his gilded, incredibly blessed, wildly fortunate state of being. That's right, 5,000 words. Even Kanye is like, "Whoa, turn down, bro."

Entitled "Alec Baldwin: Goodbye, Public Life," the essay sort of reads like Angela's Ashes, if Angela's Ashes were devoid of any actual tragedy. In other words, it's long and has an Irish narrator. Ok, so maybe it's more like The Wolf of Wall Street, since it features a wealthy, egomaniacal protagonist with a hot temper who keeps making terrible decisions and I thought it was going to end 400 times before it actually did. Ok, no wait, I've got it—Alec Baldwin's essay is actually like The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug because it's a work of fantasy and I fucking hated it.

"Essay" may also not be the right word, considering this diatribe was delivered to a reporter for New York Mag, who presumably condensed and edited it down to a compact five million pages. When I saw that the byline read "as told to Joe Hagan," all I wanted to do was send Joe Hagan's family an Edible Arrangement because the thought of having to transcribe and make sense of these crazy person ramblings is a horror from which Joe Hagan may never recover. Joe Hagan, are you ok, man? Let us know how you're doing in the comments.  We're praying for you.

To save you 15 minutes of reading and a lifetime spent wondering how that 15 minutes could have been better spent, I’ll summarize Alec's thoughts here: the news has changed, liberals have changed, conservatives have changed, society at large has changed, being an actor has changed, Hollywood has changed, and New York has really changed, but Alec has remained the same. He's never been understood in the public sphere, so now he's packing up and heading to a Los Angeles mega mansion in a gated community where he and his wife Hilaria will raise their child in the type of privacy and peace that only people in his tax bracket can even begin to comprehend. And he's bummed out about it. Also, Shia LeBeouf is a monster.

Hey Alec, if I wanted to learn about the minutia of a petty argument between two people I don’t give a shit about, I’d look up the court transcripts from your divorce to Kim Basinger.

This is not to say that the whole thing is completely out-of-touch dribble. Consider this: Alec is really upset that 30 Rock is over because he doesn't think he'll ever "laugh that way again." If there's one sentiment I can relate to here, it's that one because I just read 5,000 words of Alec Baldwin's internal monologue and laughter now seems but a vague, distant memory.

And shit, sorry for you if you got caught in Alec's crosshairs because he is naming names like a regular ol' prison snitch. The aforementioned LeBeouf gets a particularly snooze-inducing 500 word beat down when Alec gives a Ken Burns-style deep look into their titillating feud on the set of an ill-fated Broadway play. Hey Alec, if I wanted to learn about the minutia of a petty argument between two people I don’t give a shit about, I’d look up the court transcripts from your divorce to Kim Basinger.

Andrew Sullivan, Rachel Maddow, the citizens of New York—no one is safe from Alec's wrath. The man is throwing so much shade he's essentially become an anthropomorphized sun umbrella at Sandals Montego Bay Resort and Beach Club. Seriously Alec, just rip these pages out of one of the 17 copies of New York Magazine you just bought, fax it to Andy Cohen, and you've got yourself a guaranteed spot in the cast of the Real Housewives franchise of your choosing. Watch your back, NeNe Leakes, there's a new shameless, completely un-self-aware catty bitch in town! And she's real angry.

Of course, Alec would be totally cool being on Bravo because he loves the gays. Or, at least, doesn't hate them, a point he eloquently made by listing a bunch of gays he hates. Oh, and he also did not use a derogatory gay slur against a photographer. He just called him a "cocksucker," and everyone knows that is not gay-specific. Come on, Alec is not a homophobic. Let Alec break it down for you: You know how many gay people work in the theater? A BUTTLOAD. And Alec also works in the theater on occasion. Ergo, he is tolerant of homosexuals. Who has ever heard of someone secretly hating their coworkers? That is crazy talk.

However, let it be known that Anderson Cooper will not be invited to Hilaria's next yoga retreat. You don’t report on Alec Baldwin in an unflattering light and live to see a sun salutation.

Bill de Blasio is apparently on the Baldwin no-fly list, too. And here's where we really fucked up, New Yorkers: If we weren’t so intolerant of Alec, we might have had the good fortune to live in a city where Alec ran for public office. And do you know what he'd do if—sorry, when—he was elected? He would "lower the cost of the city government" and decentralize "the schools." The dream of a low cost city government and decentralized schools could have been ours. Man, first RFK, now this.

Alec closes his print media therapy session the way he presumably closes out every day: with a quick threat that he’ll be back! With a throwaway line that this is all admittedly "how I feel in February of 2014," Alec is letting us know that this has all likely been a colossal waste of time and he's probably going to change his mind and come back to his despised public life with the quickness. After all, if you speak from behind a privacy hedge installed by twenty minimum wage laborers who would love to have even a fraction of the opportunities you are portending to rail against, are you even making a sound?

Steve Dool is a writer based in New York City. Follow him on Twitter.

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