This Goes Out to All the Guys in the Bushes

On the road to comedy success, it is wise to anticipate some of the hurdles before they happen. I am prepared for the public backlash when I adopt a tribe of Eskimos, and Time magazine labels me a “modern-day” Joshephine Baker (and later in the article a “stable” Angelina Jolie or a “talented” Madonna). I welcome the day when my bit is tired and my manager talks me into becoming The Face of adult diapers. I have already prepared my speech for the annual banquet of the ‘tween girls club that wears replicas of my signature Lazy Eye (that I haven’t made signature yet).

I’m friendly. I’m smiley. I’m irresistible. I say with all honesty that some day I am going to be stalked by an unattractive person wearing a sweat shirt.

And to you, Sir, I say PREPARE…TO…DIE.

I am not one to be easily intimidated by threats. I will bypass the restraining order and go straight to the machete purchase. In a world of celebrities who get disturbing letters from self-proclaimed fans like you, there are far too few who take the law into their own hands. I will cut up a magazine and glue together an equally sick response. I’m making them now. I have that kind of time. I don’t need a giant bodyguard to muscle you in a dark alley at night. I’ll have already put lye in your morning Starbucks.

It’s survival of the fittest, Looney. Indecisive, scrawny teenagers need not apply. You’d better only come at me if you have three names and Catcher in the Rye in your pocket. You see, your strength is your empty threat. My strength is born from a deep-seated fear from watching too many episodes of Unsolved Mysteries and Lifetime Original movies about drifters who hide in the attic. Coupled with a natural, cat-like quickness when it comes to self-defense (I duck whenever I hear a balloon pop), you don’t stand a chance.