I suspect the idea for this book comes from Chatman's successful writing career, which paved a path for other comedians to become famous by using Chatman's material on programs like The Chris Rock Show, Late Night with Conan O'Brien, South Park, Louie, and That's My Bush — which according to Wikipedia isn't the best failed game show you've never heard of. He also does the voice for South Park's Towelie, who fans will remember as "the worst character ever."
Because I don't have the tools to do this interview properly — I don't have the cash to hire the same incompetent essay writers who wrote half of Mindsploitation — I decided to copy Chatman's style and enlist his talents to complete various writing assignments I've been delaying. My apologies to those of you who started reading this interview expecting an analysis of the comedic process, or who want to know if using a urinal next to the creepily tall Conan O'Brien is as awkward as it seems.
1. This month, Not South Park XXX was released on DVD. One of the women in the film, Katie Summers, once offered me a hand-job at a pool party. Now that I'm single, I very much want to marry Summers. She's a sweet lady. Please write a short email to her from me, expressing my love.
I vehemently refuse to do this assignment on the moral grounds that I am way too lazy. But I have asked my 6 year-old niece, Kaitlin, to write it for me, since she is too young to have developed any pesky self-respect yet. As soon as I read her the question, she burst into tears, yowling "you've decimated my naivete — and dare I say, my very youth!" (that's on your hands, Shawn), then she haughtily sub-sourced the project out to her pet lizard, Kaitlin. The lizard flopped happily on the keyboard with little regard for the degrading, base nature of your request. Here is what it wrote:
dkljoihkdl jfd zxcxy0wu ldjfonl md/.ds,.mkaj jljaj ggggvvvvg jop02nljih ug:jiow; please lknibwkdj Ms qcfnpjln luiwob Summers, q279ln’M I[JINLP2H 09uhbkj;njsa cherish oyohbja ohlnas;adjk;ahbh;ak me gchv gchfgy evermore.
I think your intended will be quite pleased when she receives the email — the two of you will certainly be married within the month. The lizard, it seems, is your Cyrano. You must carry it with you always if you want to keep poor Katie ensnared in the grotesquely devious hex known as "your love."
2. I started writing about porn for the same reason most failed actresses get into porn. It didn't take long before I mistook the attention my writing received as validation of my talents. Naturally, I started writing a few porn scripts intended to elevate this art form. My most recent creation is a campy porno titled Astronauts Vs. Aquanauts. It features a giant sea creature named Octopus Rex with eight vaginas, each more terrible than the next. The film also carries a salient political message about the limits of naked aggression and passive "puss" resistance. Unfortunately, I'm having trouble getting producers to return my emails. Would you write a brief query email for Astronauts Vs. Aquanauts that will grab producers' attention?
Please refer to the level of disgust in my previous response and cube it to get a whiff of my revulsion at your fixation on the lower chakras. Persons of substance, friendo, aspire to more advanced realms of self-actualization and enlightenment, or at least a higher grade of puss. However, I will hold my nose and do this favor for you because you are the finest fellow I know:
Dear Producer: I have a pitch for you. It is a movie about a producer who rejects my pitch for a movie and then he wakes up the next morning to find out that he has been quite murdered! No one notices (cuz he was so ugly to start with), so the producer goes about his day, a covert zombie, as if all is gravy. He continues living his worthless life of wine, white women, and even more gravy — that is, until the next morning when he rises from his slumber to find he has been ever so raped and murdered! This continues for several weeks until he calls me back and green lights my movie. At the wrap party, he finds a nickel in the onion dip. Free nickel!!
3. Given my recent single status, I'm also thinking about diving into the shallow end of the online dating pool. I have a thing for fatties with pretty faces. My ex and I used to call these women "Popples" after the stuffed animals from the 80s that you can cuddle with then roll into a ball and punt around the room. Write a short bio I can use on various dating sites expressing my desire to collect a few Popples born in the mid-80s who are game for some post-coital punting.
Hello, my name is Shawn. You know, there are precious few events in this miserable life that can guarantee pure uncomplicated bliss. One of those rare things is the act of dumping me. When a woman breaks up with me the sensation is better than a thousand orgasms for her. Upon kicking me to the curb, most women begin to throb and gush with infinite ripples of pleasure that tears through every atom in their bodies. This glorious sense of ecstatic freedom and fulfillment never fades after they tell me to go to hell and chuckle in my crying face for the last time, as it retreats into the horizon of their lives forever. After dating me, every second away from my presence is a thrilling gift. Colors are more vibrant, the air is more alive, and regular nachos taste like nachos supreme when I am in your past. Don't rob yourself of this opportunity to know true happiness. Hit me up, tubby.
4. I became an English major for the same reason everyone else does — I was rejected from the Radio Television and Film program. After several years, I made the next predictable career move; I went back to school to get my masters in creative writing from another Southern state school. After a second unpublished book, I'm looking to take the next logical step of getting my PhD. Given the nature of Mindsploitation, I can only assume you will soon start an online college where aspiring writers pay to complete your writing assignments. Please write a brief application for me to Vernon Chatman's Comedy Writing College.
I'm the wrong guy to ask. Cuz if I had my own comedy college, I wouldn't get in — my humor standards are too high. I just don't like the way I lean on easy self-deprecation. I ought to have a loftier view of myself, because I am so awesome, but I don't, because I am so terrible.
A comedy college is, of course, a wonderful idea. As we have discovered, comedy is a learned skill like riding a bike or giving two shits about the poor. My comedy college would consist of only one rule: 1.) There are no rules. 2.) Or ARE there? 3.) Whoa, I just blew your MIND! 4.) Or DID I? 5.) Comedic genius can be achieved by adhering to one simple step: A.) Have had spent your childhood being neglected by all those whom you hold dear. B.) Seethe meekly for decades. C.) Begin writing brutally honest and scathing poop jokes.
5. Following the model of Mindsploitation, I've started compiling a reference book called The Dirty Sex Dictionary. Basically, I pirate creative material that others are stupid enough to anonymously post online. In order to convince publishers to print this as a gift book for frat boys to display in their bathrooms, I need a famous humorist to blurb it or write the introduction. Considering that the press release for Mindsploitation focuses more on Louis C.K.'s tiny introduction as opposed to the beefy bulk of your comic genius, I’m sure you can appreciate my dilemma. Would you write a blurb or a brief forward to The Dirty Sex Dictionary that I can attribute to one of your famous comic friends, like Louis C.K.?