A Funny Thing Happened...
Let's skip all the nonsense and get right to it. So, after returning home from getting soaked while watching the Giants take NFL-sized dumps all over the field, I found this waiting for me in my MySpace inbox:
Below, for your edification, is my response. It helps if you actually view Beau's profile
. I apologize for the blurry text above, but I wanted to blow it up for you and that, pathetically, was the end result. Now, again, the response:
I've been sitting here for the past couple of minutes debating whether or not you are real or some sort of Zack Morrisian joke. At first, I was convinced your identitiy fell into the category of hipster irony that is so often seen from profiles of people named Kevin or Mr. Awesome, who choose pictures of John Basedow or the Ultimate Warrior to visually represent themselves. I've just now decided this isn't the case and you are in fact just a regular guy whose fondness for a well-fitting pair of khakis is equaled in intensity only by a disdain for t-shirts.
I have a few questions and I hope, since you've taken the effort to engage me in this discussion, that you'll take the time to indulge me. What do you find funny? Since homo-erotic dick jokes and in-poor-taste cancer jokes are out, what exactly is it that you laugh at? I'm sure we can find some sort of comedic common ground, since you claim to be a "funny" guy. Is your favorite comedian Caroline Rhea? Gallagher? Mitch Hedberg or Kevin James? What movies get you going? Cars? Shark Tale? I know, Shrek II, right? Also, this will no doubt come off as testy, but who made you the god of comedy? Lastly, how much do you bench (addendum to the last question - I hate to buy into stereotypes, but how teeny is your weenie?)?
I'm not really offended by your inability to find merit in what I'm doing. If there's anything I've learned it's that comedy is the most subjective of all the arts (Isn't that strange how it's concurrently completely subjective yet utterly objective? What people find funny varies widely based on personal tastes, yet for each individual the definition of comedy starkly rests on laughter. They either do or they don't. There's no middle ground). Sure, some people think the stuff I do is beyond bizarre (see synonyms at stupid, lame, retarded, dumb, gay and awful) and yes, some of those people are my best friends. They hate it and that's okay. But I invite you to take a look at my YouTube channel. Read comments from the many people who are in love with what I do - pay special attention to the women who want to have my children. There was a time I thought Will Ferrell was appreciated by everyone. I've come to learn that just as many people find him completely unfunny as those who piss their pants at what he does. I don't usually put stock in cliches beginning with "they say", but they say the true sign that you're achieving something worthwhile is that people come along who try to bring you down (I realize that's a total bastardization of whatever it is "they" actually say). So I thank you for writing. It let's me know I'm doing something right.
I'm not delusional. I know that I have a long, long way to go to achieve the level of success that I expect from myself (that being writing and producing my own sketch comedy show as well as blockbuster summer comedies, perhaps a book of essays - this is in no way an exaggeration). I'm sure you're familiar with the state I'm in right now because I know you must have felt the same way when getting into weightlifting - before you could make change for a dollar with your ass cheeks. I began writing a blog about a year ago to get a feel for how people would respond to the nonsense "etched amidst (sic) the vaults of my brain". The response was great. I randomly had literary agents contacting me within just a few short months and the love and adoration of a select few grew into the grudging respect of a few thousand. A major pitfall of mine over the last two years has been an utter lack of direction. I'd like to give myself outs and say that family and personal crises are partially to blame, however the burden of failure lies completely upon my unfettered shoulders. Part lazy and part Irish, it's a constant struggle to apply myself to my craft while evading the overwhelming and ever-present desire to drink until I shit my pants.
And don't get me wrong, I know that all I've done is produce some extremely low-budget YouTube videos, applied naively to be a writer on the David Letterman show and written about 60 pages worth of puerile blog fodder (I've also sang on-stage with Meatloaf and appeared in a national commercial, but I consider these to be career lowlights). And yes, I've only graced a stand-up stage a few times and now I'm developing a sketch comedy troupe so, sure, you could say I still have focus issues. But hey, I'm doing stuff. For the first time in my life, I really know what I want to do. I embrace the challenge of trying to make every human being that encounters my "comedic lung cancer" laugh, and if not that, at least be entertained. And yes, even people who are addicted to Creatine (High-five! I accept you!).
In closing I'd again like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to explain myself. I'd also like to congratulate you on your graduation from Harvard at the age of nineteen, although I'd like to think that if I were a little more motivated I could have done the same. And, finally forgive me, but I was wondering if I couldn't turn the question, with a little tweaking, back around onto you. What exactly is it that you aspire to in your obsession with UFOs and bodybuilding? I mean, the amount of time you must put into lifting weights/staring at the sky is truly mind-boggling. From my limited vantage point, it would seem we are equally wasting our Ivy League educations. Perhaps you and I are not that dissimilar. Maybe the only difference between us is that I know that, despite my shortcomings and flawed reliance on Lady Luck, people appreciate me...and you know you can rip a phone book in half. But then, I guess such a skill set is to be expected of someone who lists himself as his own hero (and maybe [your] parents). Thank God you don't want kids.
Hugs and Kisses,
Hello, Loyal Thirty. Are you still there?Brian's rating:
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