To My Critics

I get it. You hate me. And, unlike most people who hate me, you’ve never even met me. Everywhere I’ve ever worked, there has always been at least one person who has hated me utterly… to the point where other people come to me and ask why that person hates me… as if there’s a backstory to it. My only answer to that question is, “Well, I know it CAN’T be jealousy”…

I’m not saying that everyone hates me. I, like mass-murderer Charles Manson, have followers. And, like Charles Manson, I’ve also helped a member of the Beach Boys contract syphilis. But, when a link to my site gets green-lit on my favorite link site, the comments are mostly nasty, rude and uncannily accurate.

First, let me say that my site is NOT the dumbest site on the internet. I can think of at least three that are dumber… although two of them were created by me…

Did you lose brain cells just reading my post? I lost brain cells writing it, so it is only fair…

The most common insult is when they compare my writing to Stephen Wright or Jack Handy. Nothing makes a humorist angrier than when his work is compared to two very successful comedians.

“Why does this guy’s stuff get green-lit?” Because, like Mars needs women, websites NEED CONTENT.

And, to the guy who compared me to Red Skelton: Yes, I do know who that was and I know you were calling my humor hackneyed, trite and banal except you aren’t capable of using words like “hackneyed”, “trite” and “banal”…

I’m going to continue to write humor. My piece on Why Betty Crocker Would Defeat Godzilla in a Fight is already on its sixth page and I still haven’t added the footnotes. I HAVE to write humor because NO ONE ELSE DOES. Yes, there are some fellow humorists out there, but in our pop culture there are no new jokes and almost no written humor. This is because no one tells jokes or reads. Humor has been reduced to memes and hateful reality shows. I want to bring it back.

I want to be the source of new jokes and lines that people steal, use and claim as their own. Like those little transparent eels, I want my work to enter the open ocean of media, grow into a viable adult and then be eaten by a working class Londoner. Maybe there will never be another William Cuppy or a James Thurber. Maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe I’m just fooling you. But, I can’t stop…

…I’m on a mission from God…