David Crosby's paternity of the kids being reared by Melissa Etheridge and Julie Cypher was a big fat piñata full of surprises. The first was that anyone cared. The second was that Melissa isn't butch enough to knock up her girlfriend.
The third and biggest surprise was that they chose a guy who is more famous for being in rehab than in a band, and who looks like he's been baking Fudge Stripes and DeLuxe Grahams in a Hollow Tree for 150 years. The father of your children is a major choice (assuming it's a choice and not the result of your penny-pinching purchase of Val-u-Mart Kondoms). You presumably want someone who doesn't resemble a Lucasfilm puppet-shop creation for a Harry Potter movie. It just goes to show you that when we girls get together, we act silly.
Aside from his status as a family friend, the ladies say they chose Crosby because he was musical, leaving many to wonder, "OK, so why not Chris Isaak or k.d. lang?" Besides, it's not clear how much of what traits are inherited and how much are just dumb luck. Chastity Bono, bless her heart, inherited no demonstrable talent from two performing parents, while famous dual-celeb offspring Carrie Fisher can write, act and look smashing in an iron bikini. Liza got Judy's voice, but she also got her drug addiction; her sister Lorna inherited neither. You have a better chance of getting the plastic ring around the milk bottle at the carnival than of knowing what kind of kid you'll spawn.
Diamond has it rough
But as much as we all were surprised, no one could have been knocked for a bigger loop than Lou Diamond Phillips. Poor Lou. First his ex-wife hooks up with Melissa. Not just any lesbian, but someone famous. Then, when they go looking for someone to impregnate her, they pick The Hobbit. Next time you feel put-out, next time your Cheese-Nips get stuck in the office vending machine and you think, "How can I believe in God when there is so much suffering in the break room?," just think of Lou.
What horrendous thing did he do to deserve this? Was he a skull stacker for the Khmer Rouge in a former life that this humiliation should come upon him? The fact that he's famous enough for us to know his name but not famous for anything tangible, recent or good is the poison icing on the cake. That someone with such mildly exotic good looks should have to suffer so just seems very wrong.
And if this is what we see from the outside, imagine what kind of bad luck happens to Lou that we don't see. You have to wonder what it would be like to live a day in the life:
7:59 a.m.: Try to shake the nightmare that last starring role was in a movie called "Bats." 8 a.m.: Radio alarm goes off. Talk-radio guy is calling Betty Ford to preregister Crosby children for the year 2015. 8:03 a.m.: Spot "Bats" key chain. Realize it wasn't a nightmare. Sulk. 9 a.m.: Neighbor calls; my cat has gone to live at their house with their cat. 9:14 a.m.: Turn down VH-1, which wants an interview for "Teen Heartthrobs of the '80s": What the Hell Happened? 9:26 a.m.: Read reviews of current movie, "Supernova." Godfrey Cheshire says in Variety that it "appears headed for a deep-space rendezvous with audience indifference." 9:28 a.m.: Call VH-1 back. Leave message. 9:38 a.m.: Mom calls: has sold my high-school poetry to David Letterman. 10:10 a.m.: Spot the Rolling Stone with ex-wife and Father Time on cover. Man at magazine stand asks, "Didn't you used to be Chow Yun-Fat?" 10:47 a.m.: Neighbor says my cat is glowingly happy and has an interview scheduled later with People. Noon: Take a crouton to the eye when lid flies off McDonald's salad shaker. 1:42 p.m.: Go to see agent but he's busy; secretary says he's now representing the other guy from Wham! full time. 4:37 p.m.: At home, neighbor says my cat is pregnant by enormous, bearded, lethargic cat that lives across the fence. 7:24 p.m.: Spot Melissa and Julie on "ET!" Start to channel surf, find "Prince of Darkness" airing on Sci-Fi. I am not such a bad-looking guy after all.
Lou, though, is likely more mature and probably is taking the whole thing a lot better. Besides, all relationships are so unique, you never know what to expect from couple to couple. And snickers aside, it's kinda cool a grouping that now includes two artificially created kids, a celebrity lesbian couple and an drug-addled '60s throwback singer is just another regular family. While we were picturing jet packs and food in pill form for the 21st century, we never envisioned anything like this. But it beats the hell out of Soylent Green.
But not out of the Orgasma-tron. Can somebody get working on that?