An Open Letter to the Little Man in my head
Dear Sir,
While I appreciate you and your team's continued perseverance to keep my biological faculties in order, and functioning enough for this Fake Rockstar to be accepted into society, I have some issues with a few of the operational choices you've made as of late. I've made a list to post on the Medulla Oblongata break room fridge:
1. There's a definite problem with the motivation drive. I've plenty to do, but seem to be making a seat on the couch in underwear and covered in tears a priority. Please run a full diagnostic ASAP... That backstabbing cleaning guy may have switched everything to "chronic depression" again.
2. I'm not sure who runs the hunger reflex, but could you stop in and see if they're sitting on the "execute" button? I eat and never seem to be full. This is causing some undue stress on the boys in blubber production, especially in the ass and gut quadrants. Please troubleshoot this situation when you have a nanosecond.
3. A similar problem seems to be happening the alcohol craving department, particularly around 3pm. Don't get me wrong, I love the drink... I just need a break from falling asleep in a drunken haze, giggling at Colbert every night.
4. The sex drive still seems to be stuck on "Dirty old man ogling from his front porch". While I do enjoy porn, I worry that I'm quite close to seeing all the Internet has to offer. This seems to worsen with age. Please investigate the possible correlation and what steps are needed to scale things back a tad.
Everything else seems to be humming along... No new obtrusive hair on the body and little hair loss on the head... And the Joke Transmitter 2600 seems to be churning out the funny nicely.
Thanks for your consideration of these concerns. I appreciate your continued cooperation.
Cheers,
Corey "Fake Rockstar" Pandolph
Cartoonist/Writer/Human Species
While I appreciate you and your team's continued perseverance to keep my biological faculties in order, and functioning enough for this Fake Rockstar to be accepted into society, I have some issues with a few of the operational choices you've made as of late. I've made a list to post on the Medulla Oblongata break room fridge:
1. There's a definite problem with the motivation drive. I've plenty to do, but seem to be making a seat on the couch in underwear and covered in tears a priority. Please run a full diagnostic ASAP... That backstabbing cleaning guy may have switched everything to "chronic depression" again.
2. I'm not sure who runs the hunger reflex, but could you stop in and see if they're sitting on the "execute" button? I eat and never seem to be full. This is causing some undue stress on the boys in blubber production, especially in the ass and gut quadrants. Please troubleshoot this situation when you have a nanosecond.
3. A similar problem seems to be happening the alcohol craving department, particularly around 3pm. Don't get me wrong, I love the drink... I just need a break from falling asleep in a drunken haze, giggling at Colbert every night.
4. The sex drive still seems to be stuck on "Dirty old man ogling from his front porch". While I do enjoy porn, I worry that I'm quite close to seeing all the Internet has to offer. This seems to worsen with age. Please investigate the possible correlation and what steps are needed to scale things back a tad.
Everything else seems to be humming along... No new obtrusive hair on the body and little hair loss on the head... And the Joke Transmitter 2600 seems to be churning out the funny nicely.
Thanks for your consideration of these concerns. I appreciate your continued cooperation.
Cheers,
Corey "Fake Rockstar" Pandolph
Cartoonist/Writer/Human Species
posted by Fake Rockstar at 3:04 PM
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3 Comments:
This is an extremely perceptive piece. I can't imagine anyone being able to write it who hasn't been there. It's also an extremely articulate piece. Being able to grasp exactly what's happening is the biggest single hurdle to getting out of the mire.
So I can't say this sad posting is sad; it proves hopeful. And I can't say it's happy; it conveys distress.
All I can say is that people love each other, and that is ultimately the way to truly live. No one will ever be really alone, no one lacks infinite potential in their own particular areas, and no one is ever bereft of reason to live - and to thrive.
My wish for anyone whose feelings are expressed in Corey's letter is: Keep going, because you can and will get somewhere worthwhile.
With love, from me.
Comedy. This is a comedy site. Anyone who thinks these posts are a window into my soul, should head over to Dr. Phil's place.
Seriously. Comedy. Funny. Laugh.
Please and thanky.
OK. But it's utterly convincing as writing, and anyone who identifies with it ought to know that it's just one possible place to be for a time. Sorry to be a wet blanket to others!
I'm too old, or too exposed to a range of people including despondent ones, to laugh at such a clear view. I didn't recognize Corey as anyone whose feelings are expressed in the piece, but I didn't perceive satire either.
Obviously, readers vary. I don't mind if others react as they wish!
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