Dear Peter Shapiro,
Dammit, Shapiro: stop fucking with me. I STOOD UP FOR YOU. Everybody else heckled and backseat drove (drivened drivered?) and I SANG YOUR HEBREW PRAISES so I need you stop fucking with the Largest Daily Dead-Related Satirical Blog on the Innertubes.
When someone is nice enough to post the 7/4 show on YouTube for me to watch in a private room, then just gimme 24 hours. I was getting to it, I swear. And then it would be taken down. No fuss, no muss.
But, no, Peter Shapiro. You have crossed me; mistaken my kindness for weakness; abortioned my happiness – how dare you, fucker? After what I’ve done? Have I not praised your decisions that were praise-worthy, like a true critic? Have I not pointed out that your face is too full for that haircut, like a friend? Have I published the photos of your secret families?
No. I haven’t published the photos of your secret families, Peter Shapiro.
Do this for me, landsman, and we can be buddies again. Or don’t, and I will come to your bowling alley and put doody in the fingerholes of the bowling balls.
Thoughts on the Dead
ps You also owe me 50 bucks from the shows on the webcast I didn’t use. Legally, that’s your debt