With the recent hubbub of the Pitt-Aniston fiasco (damn you Angelina Jolie and baby Maddox with your faux-hawk!), I have barely been able to concentrate on anything, let alone keep my food down (ha!)-so you’re lucky that you’re getting this post-winter break column at all, kiddies. What kind of cruel deity allows the new year to greet you with the breakup of a Hollywood couple you wouldn’t ordinarily give a crap about? I could have handled another Jennifer Lopez uncoupling-I’m not fooled by the rocks she’s got-and I even could have stomached Nick and Jessica going their separate ways after so many months of sketchy speculation.

But this?

Was I prepared to turn on “Good Morning America,” “The Early Show” and “Today” only to see senior editors from People Magazine bragging about breaking this most heart-wrenching of tales about love gone sour, a true fairy tale shot to hell? And need I share that this most unfortunate news reached me across the Atlantic whilst I was reenacting Madonna/Esther’s recent Rosh Hashanah pilgrimage to Israel by making my own unctuous Kabbalahistic sojourn to the Holy Land? During the three minutes of Internet time I purchased, it was their calamitous amour I had to feel so deeply. The horror! The horror!

So where do we go from here, friends? How do we suppress the rage, the betrayal, the now ingrained and inevitable conclusion that our own lives stand no chance if the literal Zeus and Hera of Tinseltown couldn’t see it through? My masseuse threw me out because I was too tense. My Pilates instructor told me that until I could focus I wasn’t any good as the star pupil of the class. My Buddhist guru told me that my aura was glowing what I thought was a festive color combination of firefly orange and ambulance red. Apparently, that was no good. Meanwhile, he’s just bitter that he isn’t able to pull off the male pattern baldness as well as Ghandi. Fool.

I have stayed up nights and nights, plagued by the fear that I will never be able to merge with my one soul(less) mate if Brad and Jen couldn’t make it, if they couldn’t set the example, be the paradigm, show the way. I have binged and I have purged, but to no avail. I have prayed and I have cursed, but there seems no end to this pain. Why couldn’t she just birth the baby? Why couldn’t he just turn his wandering eye? Why can’t we all just get along?

I, for one, don’t know if we will ever be able to get past this. As a society, we have faced tragedy, yes. Terrorism. Julia Stiles. A tsunami. The ensuing telethon where a lonesome Brad had to be seated next to (gasp!) Jane Seymour. But this is, by far, the most devastating schism we have yet faced. Civilization may go on, but Brad and Jen will not. Get me my meds, this one’s gonna hurt.

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