Hey Fox News,
Sometimes I wonder if you people are even paying attention. The past few years have been rough for me, what with the intense training I've undergone to eliminate the faintest traces of empathy left in my body. Of course, it helps to study under The Master -- I may not understand a goddamned word Dennis Miller says, but when he sits me down in a room and peppers his metaphors (similes?) about the Franco-Prussian War with flagrant usage of the word "babe," my unfathomable contempt for humanity only grows deeper. It's gotten to the point where I can't even comprehend the existence of a different philosophy or lifestyle, so impoverished black Americans might as well be hobbits as far as I'm concerned. The only difference is our country sure as shit won't spend 80 million on an opening weekend to watch a three-hour journey to the check-cashing place on Brighton. And before you give me that whole "racism" rap, I've got some numbers from the CATO Institute that prove my observation is based solely on math, and not casual bigotry. That's exactly the brand of salt-of-the-earth humor I hope to bring cable-viewers on a consistent Monday-to-Thursday basis.
So really, why don't I have a TV show yet? If you ever listened to my podcast, you'd realize all of my arguments can be successfully disarmed by a third-grader before I can get a second sentence out. Leading Conservative media figures focus on creating content that the other side won't dignify with a response, and while the resulting product may sound like a fevered idiot screaming at himself for three hours a day, it still manages to create a bubble of comfort which makes listeners happier and more likely to invest in gold or apocalypse preparedness kits. Yes, I appreciate the small roles I've been given on Fox News shows like O'Reilly, but have you guys heard a hot second of the shit I've been saying lately? Some of it would make even the most hardened Free Republic poster pause, reflect upon the nearby wall-mounted KKK belt buckle collection, and decide to take his rage out on a spouse or mistress instead of further tainting what has to be an unsalvageable Internet reputation.
I mean, does anyone out there realize I come with my own built-in audience? My podcast has cultivated a demographic of human beings who think only of themselves, which means "PAYDAY!" to any advertisers out there. Seriously, the second anyone but hardworking, white men receive even the smallest bit of extra attention or special treatment, dollars to donuts it's one of my listeners who'll be committing the resulting "hate" crime. Not that I advocate unwarranted violence or anything -- whenever I'm signing t-shirts, I make sure to tell the guy in question (and it's always a guy) "Hey, make sure you don't rape anyone in this!" Now, they may think I'm delivering some of my trademark off-color humor, but I'm actually imparting an important message to America's youth -- like, can you imagine if a rapist was caught while wearing one of my "Mangria" shirts? Odds are the watchdog groups would point to the episode where I said something about revealing clothes on a woman being like wrapping paper on Christmas Eve -- how can you resist tearing off a corner and peeking inside? Actually, I'm not sure if I said that, but it sounds like something I would have restated multiple times, so I'd like to cover my bases on this one.
You may be wondering what a guy with a podcast empire might be doing barking up the television tree. Well life ain't all juggies and trampolines for this former Man Show co-host who feels he needs to mention at this point that he still gets a Christmas card from Jimmy Kimmel every few years. I thought I had a good deal in the voice-over industry on that one Comedy Central cartoon you're just now remembering that took America by storm during the brightest years of the W. Bush era, but that particular ship sailed when the network realized they accidentally made 36 episodes of it instead of zero. These days, I'm only called up when Gilbert Gottfried is too sick or dignified to take a role, but I drew the line at stepping into his shoes when Gilbert got fired from Aflac thanks to a few PC know-nothings and their sensitivity towards horrendous national tragedies. You know what, Japan? I love those crazy iPhones you guys make, but me not feeling "so horny" anymore. Again, this is my A-grade material, and you can expect to see more like it when I'm given 18 minutes to entertain four times a week. I happen to know A LOT about Mexicans, as well.
Really, Fox News, how far to I need to go out on this limb I've often referred to on marquees and in court as "confrontational conservative comedy?" I've ramped up the edgy humor of The Adam Carolla Show so much that now most of the meals prepared by my housekeeper consist mainly of her spit. Look at me -- I live in Los Angeles (Los Angeles, for Christ's sake!), and the mere thought of any healthy relationship outside of vanilla heterosexuality sends me into paroxysms of rage that can only be stopped by turning "LBGT" into an abbreviation with a more hilarious meaning. In short, I am a vessel for the white-hot envy of barely-high-school-educated America, who sees the alleged oppression levied against countless other cultures and asks,"Why not me?" Enclosed you will find 45 jokes about Rachel Maddow -- think of this as my way to sweeten the pot. But since 39 of them are about her haircut, you might want to spread them out over the next couple of weeks.
Did Louis C.K. jerk off in front of two female comics? And why are these ladies squandering an opportunity to learn from a comedy legend?
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
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