Dear Kathy Griffin: 
I never thought I’d live to see this day. Where I’m kind of, sort of, marginally on your side on ANY topic. I mean, I’ve suffered through the ravings of a lot of shitty comedians in my life due to my extreme disdain for social order, love of dark rooms and bizarre desire to suck down two glasses of water with a quarter shot of generic mad dog in each simultaneously to meet the two “drink” minimum while freezing my ass off and being treated like garbage by 70 year old waitresses with emphysema. 

To wit: (but not “witty”) 

David Brenner, the “Newt Gingrich” of comedians. Inexplicably hanging around for decades, like a bloated hemorrhoid, making irrelevant observations and maintaining a forum by blowing people who have actual power/talent and due to his oddly telegenic yet repugnant mane of hair. Bill Maher, who despite making his name by denying any truth to religion, hosts his show in the exact same fucked up format that Pat Robertson uses. SPOILER ALERT: Pat Robertson is actually funny. Jon Stewart, who clearly has access to a seemingly endless supply of incredible writers, yet still manages to come off like that one smarmy TA you had in Abnormal Psych who knew just enough to give the impression that he was intellectual, but remained a TA until he was thirty because he was just repeating things other people said until one day he inexplicably quit, three credits short of his masters to go live in a commune. Sarah Silverman, whose observations are so pedestrian she makes Joy Behar look like Ruth Bader Ginsburg. And Dane Cook. (No explanation needed) 

Yet even in this varied and spectacular group of egomaniacal sadists, you stand alone among them, like Milli or Vanilli (whichever one is still alive because unlike the dead one, he fails to realize how insignificant his talent actually is) singular in your appalling lack of self awareness and talent. But unlike the handsome Vanilli and/or Milli, you are also a visual train wreck. Unappealing on every aesthetic level possible. And to a large degree, this is why you are not the least bit funny. Ugly out, ugly in. 

But somehow, like that one zit on my left ass cheek that gets flat for awhile but never quite goes away, you are STILL AROUND. Sometimes you look different, like when the zit gets an ingrown hair in the mix and turns a weird shade of yellow. No matter what physical form you take, you are, at your core, still an infected, oozing, annoying often painful aberration that exists only to remind others what a perfect, smooth ass cheek looks like by contrast. Why is this kind of ugliness needed in this world? After much contemplation, I finally realized. 

This IS your purpose. 

Without hideousness, there can be no beauty. Without the unfunny, there can be no funny. How can anyone truly appreciate the comic genius of a Trey Parker or a Larry David without people like you who are such resounding failures at the same craft?  

So, in a way, we all owe you a debt of gratitude. Most people who are as seemingly terrible at what they do as you are would have hung it up and gone back to the safe harbor of obscurity decades ago! But I finally realized that the reality is, you are NOT terrible at what you do. You are the best at what you do! Which is being the least funny, most irritating cunt in the public eye! You have no peer! I mean sure, Chelsea Handler tried to steal the mantle from you there for a while. But she doesn’t have your stamina, complete lack of originality, ability to stop fucking her bosses, unfortunate gene pool or direct hotline to a squatty potty 24/7. 

Here’s a tip. When I was a kid and my brother pushed things too far, my mother repeatedly said to him, “learn when to quit.” I understand that you view yourself as a comedian. You’re not one, but you think you are. So you think it is your job to push boundaries and this is what you attempted to do with your recent publicity stunt featuring the bloody likeness of Donald Trump’s head. You have now followed this up with the most ludicrous, embarrassing and childish set of apologies I’ve ever read. Much like a hooker trying to escape Mickey Rourke’s vacation dungeon, you literally begged everyone in the world for a second chance. Or a third chance. Or whatever. 

Here’s the thing. You’re wasting your time. No one ever took you seriously in the first place. You can’t beg for a second chance when you never had a first one. You need to just lean into this. This is America. You showed an image of Trumps’s severed head. Distasteful? Certainly. Funny? Negative. But then again, nothing you do is funny. So why limit yourself to apologizing for this? If you’re going to apologize you need to apologize for your entire career! 

Otherwise just nut it up and tell all these people to fuck off. No one with one functional brain cell thinks that this nonsense is a death threat. I don’t particularly like it, but it’s free speech. All of these hypocrites who are trying to censor you are totally full of shit. Where were they all these years when you were torturing us with your lack of talent and they made absolutely zero attempt to censor you? That’s when they would’ve been doing us all a favor. You should tell them all to go fuck themselves and just own it. The fact that you are not doing that only gets you one step closer to Milli. Or Vanilli. You know. The dead one. 

Grow a pair.


PS: Girl, you know it’s true.  

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