Dear Vin Diesel, Consider For a Moment That You Are Not Dominic Toretto

Vin Diesel, consider for a moment that you might not really be Dominic Toretto, your character in the Fast and Furious movies.

Consider that Charlize Theron, your Fast 8 costar, may not be helplessly drawn to your hairless, ham-like physique the way that women in this never-ending franchise are contractually obligated to. Consider how she seems both exasperated and perplexed that you keep going on and on about your onscreen kiss, the one you called “the biggest moment in trailer history.” Consider first the account of the kiss that you gave USA Today: “Do I know she enjoyed it? Oh, my god, yeah. A kiss cannot lie, lips don’t lie. No, they didn’t. She owned it.” Then consider the victim’s own account on Ellen.

Consider that one is not like the other. Consider that Theron described your version of events as “insane.” Consider her very astute diagnosis: “We’re confusing fiction with reality.”

Consider that your own sense of reality may be irreversibly warped by the 100 million followers you have on VinBook, the Facebook community of devoted fans and fan art which you personally cultivate and curate. Consider that when the New York Times, in their attempt to make sense of your vast online following, calls you “America’s sweetheart,” they may be doing so in jest. Consider irony.

Consider, for a moment, Donald Trump’s delusions. Then consider how those might relate to your own.

Consider that other time you confused an unwanted advance with an invitation.

Consider this female reporter’s dismay at your unyielding commentary on her appearance. Consider her stricken terror as you suddenly leave your chair and waddle towards her like a hulking, hairless baby. Consider, too, that you are objectively corny: “When did this turn into beautiful world? When did this turn into ‘I love you?'” is something you said on camera. Consider your face after delivering those lines, your serene smugness unmolested by self-awareness, as though you are waiting for the world to thank you for being you.

Consider that your $160 million net worth might be hampering your humility.

Consider the cruelty of making a grainy video of yourself singing Sam Smith’s “Stay With Me,” an already cruel song, and then foisting it upon the internet. Consider that you might be confusing baritone with croak. Consider the plight of the human behind the camera, whom you made zoom in slowly on you, in a tank top, in your undecorated—well, what is that, your dance studio?

Consider, too, that you visited this upon us.

Consider that your arms might be a constraint on your range of movement.

Consider that when a rumor surfaces that a stipulation of your contract is that you cannot be seen to lose a fight (or a race, for that matter) in the Fast and Furious movies, we are more than ready to believe it. Consider the existence, though, of vulnerability. If you can follow, consider how a hero’s vulnerability can be very effective for dramatic structure. Also, consider acquiring an inner life not made up of self-attributed koans.

Consider the utter ludicrousness of two enormous, hairless, sleeveless actors named Diesel and The Rock feuding on the set of a movie about cars that save the world. Then consider how much more ludicrous it would be if it all turned out to be a publicity stunt.

Consider that when a Los Angeles Times reporter came to visit you, you fact-checked the story for her by FaceTiming the DJ Steve Aoki so that he could corroborate that your musical collaboration did indeed produce “a monster track.” And consider that you then turned to the assistant whose job it is to chronicle your every move on video and roared, “I’m gonna get a Grammy before I get an Oscar!”

Consider the dissonance between your place in the top 10 of Hollywood’s most bankable stars, and your standing on Hollywood’s C-list. Consider that when you pronounce that your personal life shall remain personal—”I come from the Harrison Ford, Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino code of silence,” a phrase you once said with a straight face—no tabloid put their hardiest investigative reporters on the beat.

But most of all, consider that Fast 7 made $1.5 billion worldwide, and that Fast 8 is projected to make more than $400 million in its opening weekend alone, and forget I said anything.

Charlize Theron Talks About Shaving Her Head