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I can’t look at Amanda Bynes anymore

There comes a certain point, when you're driving past a car wreck, that you realize what you're looking at is a car wreck. As you inch closer to the disaster, the damage reveals itself for inspection. At that moment, it ceases to be a mere curiosity in the road; it becomes a sad reality. And when that moment hits, it doesn't matter that it's out there on the turnpike for anybody to see -- you feel like an intruder on a very private moment of suffering. Amanda Bynes is a car wreck. And I just don't want to look any more.

By now, the narrative of Bynes' descent from perky teen star to shambling nightmare has been well documented in a near daily stream of news stories. The narrative kicked off in earnest in March of 2012, when she was pulled over for talking on her cell phone while driving and allegedly fled the scene. A month later, she was arrested for a DUI, and pleaded to Barack Obama to "Please fire the cop who arrested me." In August, she got in another fender bender, and in September she was caught still driving around with a suspended license. Then in May, she allegedly tossed a bong from the 36th floor of a Manhattan building, though she defensively claims, "It was just a vase." And that's just her legal woes.

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