Leahy.

Your shit-encrusted profession is a revolting parade of the damned.

For any who do not know, not a single person in my audience has ever even acknowledged my existence. Leahy, for example, has steadfastly refused to respond to a single written inquiry of mine at any time over the past seven years. I am quite certain that I could send him a certified, winning Publishers Clearinghouse sweepstakes ticket and the old fuck would refuse to redeem it.

It has taken me an entire decade to painstakingly gather enough data points to determine the approximate size and composition of my audience. I have to smoke out my own audience. They just sit there looking at me. Cat got their tongue. I cannot even conceive of any other professional stage performer having to deal with this total nonsense, much less succeeding at the task as I have, what with having to dip into my old toolbox of intelligence tips and tricks just to determine my own environment.

Ask any stage performer. They will confirm that it is nigh theoretically impossible to perform without a knowledge of the size and composition of the audience. “Is it fifty people or five thousand? Is it retirees or college kids?”

It’s a bunch of idiots is what they are. Bunch of shoplifters. I’m starving to fuckin’ death up here while my idiot audience think it’s a free show.

Leahy. The pure human waste in the Justice Department continue to maintain in kook court that I am worthy of gag orders and that I am a terrorist for, among other things, meeting the definition of their favorite whore word, “tax protestor.”

But I’m not liable for the tax. There’s nothing left to protest against.

The trash organization has zero intention of indicting me for tax evasion. I will win. They know that. I know they know that. And they know that I know. You don’t fabricate teenage lovers for someone for whom you have any other means of getting rid of.

I am delivering on a silver platter to the Justice Department all they need to send me down the river for countless years for my not having paid a single nickel in federal income tax for twenty years and for not having filed a tax return during that time. What else do they need?

So you go to kook court today and you move your mouth and you demand that the whores in the executive branch either indict me for tax evasion –which would only seem to be their holy grail, as they maintain that I am a tax protestor, after all– or you demand that those idiots stop keying my car. And I couldn’t care less that I make Obamacare go bye bye. It sounds like a personal problem. Maybe certain someones ought not to have predicated their signature legislative victories on total legal falsehoods. Boo hoo. You’d think the Legal Scholar in Chief would know better. (Or maybe he did.)

In short, get. that piece. of fucking dog shit that you call a jurisdiction out. of. my. fucking. path. old. fucking. man.

I have absolutely had it with the harassment and the obstruction of my movement in my field of expertise which has cost me who knows how many tens of millions of dollars over ten years.

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I am America’s Senior Comedian. Thank you for your kind attention in this matter.

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