Weed o’clock struck early today. Not sure why. Something to do with daylight saving time, I think. Or the Maya calendar? Fuck if I know. It just felt like a day-tokin’ kinda day here in the Pacific Northwest.
But this isn’t about me. Because there’s no way in hell I would ever answer this ad:
Some personal news pic.twitter.com/Hzh7p3rBHz
— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) April 11, 2021
For the nontweeters:
Freelance Comedy Writer, Greg Gutfeld Show
“We’re looking for a strong writer who is equally passionate about comedy and current events. You are a proactive individual who can write smart, crisp copy with an edge. You are knowledgeable about politics, social trends, pop culture, and can view stories from a unique perspective. Your responsibilities will include writing accurate segment copy that’s rich with humor, punch, and irony. …”
I know this goes without saying, but I can’t imagine what self-respecting writer—comedic or otherwise—would allow a hack like Greg Gutfeld to murder their copy live on air. It would be like sending Lennie from Of Mice and Men a puppy-of-the-week subscription box.
A monkey taking a shit in its own hand is twice as funny as Gutfeld! A monkey taking a shit in Greg Gutfeld’s hand is still funnier than Gutfeld!, but at least it’s a contest. Greg Gutfeld shitting in a monkey’s hand? Now you’re talking.
Incidentally, the previous paragraph will be the gist of my first writers’ room pitch after Gutfeld! hires me. Might as well hit the ground running, eh?
”This guy is a natural. Sometimes I laugh so hard I cry.” — Bette Midler on author Aldous J. Pennyfarthing via Twitter. Need a thorough Trump cleanse? Thanks to Goodbye, Asshat: 101 Farewell Letters to Donald Trump, Dear Fcking Lunatic, Dear Prsident A**clown and Dear F*cking Moron, you can purge the Trump years from your soul sans the existential dread. Only laughs from here on out. Click those links, yo!