Today is pledge drive day. (Though it’s not actually a pledge drive that we’re having here; it’s where my audience of fatasses pry their fat asses off their chairs and lumber to the box office and buy their tickets like they’re supposed to.)
Sometimes I need to remind my delightful audience of some things:
1. I am a professional, critically acclaimed comedian. This is a show. This is a low-bandwidth show. I deliberately chose this format ten years ago because I happen to know from my experience as a telecommunications technician that low-bandwidth transmissions propagate the furthest with the least amount of transmission power. That is, morse code goes all around the world, whereas a television transmission goes about fifty miles.
2. Despite what Madam Prosecutor may maintain, this is not a blog. This is not a diary of my innermost thoughts to be read by my imaginary friends on Twitter or Loserbook. You are watching me perform before you, I walking around on my creaky wooden stage in the back room of Will’s Pub in Orlando. These are my words as I speak them to you. Always has been, always will be.
3. As I’ve said for nearly a decade, I’m amazed at the number of people who hate my guts, yet they insist on dutifully showing up here every morning. In showbiz terms, I am what is known as a “draw.” If you do not like me, you may register your displeasure by the only means available to you, which is to exit my theater. I won’t care. No one has ever bought a ticket anyway, so your departure in no way affects my bottom line or any other aspect of my existence.
4. My show is not a “try out” for a “real” show on television. I would immediately get fired from any television role and I’d wind up right back here. So let’s just cut out the middleman.
5. I don’t give out comp passes, except to those who genuinely cannot afford the $100 yearly ticket. There is no news media discount. There is no law enforcement discount. You’re investigating the excellence of my work, nothing more. If you are reading this, you are obligated to buy a ticket. We operate on the honor system here. Heretofore, my audience have displayed zero honor. Can you imagine how much fun it is to speak to a bunch of shoplifters?
6. In case I have not yet made it perfectly clear, I have not paid federal income tax in twenty years and the Justice Department’s minds have imploded and they just sit there and bawl their little eyes out at how no rational person would even read a United States law, much less follow it. We’re busy people and we just don’t have the time to find the color-of-law fraud in a thing.
Buy your tickets, losers. I can’t hire camera guys and writers until you do that. I need to talk to you people for free like I need a hole in the head.
Send your hundred bucks to Chris King, Grafton, Vermont 05146.
I am America’s Senior Comedian. Thank you for your kind attention in this matter.