An Open Letter Prose by Any Other Name...

Dear (Irrationally) Concerned Citizens,

I, George “MY MIDDLE NAME” Durish, denounce and renounce the actions of ANDREW “Dice” Clay. In presiding over my appellation upon birth, I failed to anticipate the controversy and conflict of interest concerning my relationship with the “Bad Boy of Comedy’s” prodigious and calumnious career. For the past 23 years I have remained silent on the issue of his breathtakingly insipid brand of “comedy” and enigmatically smug demeanor. But, today, as I stand/write before you, his words have confounded the masses and called into question my own moral compass. They say, “Why, Andrew, after The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, did you not categorically reject this man?” To these people I say, “Because he is not a jump-shot or a college applicant.” And, though it is true that I once attempted to stomach an HBO stand-up on a really boring day, I assure you that I did not so much as crack a smile.

However, I cannot disown this man, for I never bought the “Dice.” I cannot disown him anymore than I can (and wish) to disown Colin Quinn, Jimmy Fallon, or Doogie Howser’s hit new tragicomedy, weekdays on CBS, because it is these anathemas of funny that breathe life into what needs to be done to restore the grace and civility of the comedy world. Because this is important. This man, aloof to his role in this whole Byzantine shebang, is my surrogate, nonetheless. Andrew “Dice” Clay’s words should be parsed and conflated with my own, even when captured by amateur cell phone footage and posted on YouTube. Because this is important. His first name, in its congruity to my middle, should indicate the verity of our concurrent worldview. Because this is important. And this is how the world works.

So, in closing, I call upon all of you to open a dialogue with your fellow surrogates – every Steve, Tom, Manson, Hussein, Dick, and Harry – and discuss how you speak for all the Steves, Toms, Mansons, Husseins, Dicks, and Harrys of the world. Because, in order to form a more perfect reunion, we all have to think like our nominal kin. Thank you and God Bless the Whole Fucking Universe.

Love and props,

Mandroid Me