Good morning and thank you for reading this post,
I am writing to you from the Milwaukee airport as I am on my way to Tampa to a “conference,” which, despite other recent events involving other high-profile individuals, should not be construed to mean I’m meeting with a hooker from Guam. Please stop bothering my wife, daughter, mother, rabbit and trash collector. They will all tell you the same thing, as I have bought them off with the promise of jewelry, a trip to the zoo, my presence at Thanksgiving dinner, an extra wad of hay and a flat-screen TV that will be left on the curb. These promises are in no particular order.
Due to various situations that I am not willing to get into, but rest assured will be leaked by my press aides who are pissed that they are using their well-earned college degrees in philosophy to get my coffee every morning, I have nothing of importance to say today. I would like to say (long pause, look down at notes, pretend to be anguished), I have decided not to comment on the tragic passing ofMichael Jackson, Farrah FawcettorEd McMahon or the tragic staying ofJeff Goldblum. This trying decision was reached after considerable debate among my closest advisers and the voices in my head. Eventually, the voices won, so I will be going for a peanut butter and bologna margarita and a high colonic once this press conference is over.
It was also with deep regret that I decided against spending more time ripping the crap out of Jessica McBride. Apparently, her tersely worded statement asking the media to leave her alone worked, as we haven’t seen much on her tryst since Dan Bice first broke it last week around this time. Either that, or it washer editor’s 3,500-word defense of her 5,000-word article that was meant to scare off people or to keep his ass off the fire pit. Learning from his self-serving and shameless attack on an actual piece of journalism, I’ve decided to humbly beg for forgiveness for the absence of a real post this week. However, I will say in his defense that it’s difficult to understand real journalism when you haven’t seen any of it roll through your magazine in years.
I would also like to take this chance to dispel some persistent rumors, which by acknowledging, I will be giving those of you who pretend to have a shred of journalistic integrity the chance to talk about now. I am not taking this trip as part of a tax dodge or a plastic surgery initiative. As you will surely point out repeatedly, or wait for Jon Stewart to do so and then quote him, I am still as broke and ugly as ever.
During this difficult time, I would like to thank God (pause, sigh, hem, haw, wonder why God decided to screw me) for giving me the strength to face this issue head on, but apparently not the foresight to avoid screwing up in the first place. I believe that He has as purpose for me, but apparently filing an insightful and valuable post is not part of it. I beg for the forgiveness of those closest to me, including whoever decides who gets to headline the 2012 ticket, as my screw up can’t possibly be as bad as those committed by other people recently. At least mine doesn’t have Paul Schaffer playing “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” at every break in Letterman’s monologue.
Finally, I would like to thank my family for their support in my decision not to post. And by family, I’m including the six people who decided to make “Why are you picking on Doc? WHYYYYYYY????” YouTube videos. As I attempt to dodge time in blogger jail, your support is crucial to me. After I don’t beat the rap, your support on blogger jail conjugal visit days will be even more crucial.
With that, I conclude this press conference, pledging to do better. Of course, we all know how that’s going to go… So I bid you farewell. Please don’t follow me and if you hear me talking on my cell phone to someone named “Cinnamon,” feel free to ask for your just due. Perhaps the rabbit will share its wad of hay.
Good night and may God bless you or at least keep you from having to apologize for whatever you have or have not done recently.