I’m laying in bed Thursday night and I decide to put on Letterman. I am expecting fun and frivolity. Instead I get theater of the bizarre. The atmosphere in the Ed Sullivan Theater is colder than Dick Cheney’s heart. What is normally a buffoon’s sanctuary is transformed into a confessional for sins. The audience didn’t pay for their tickets. Good thing because they would have demanded their money back.
Letterman pauses like a man who has dead bodies in his freezer. Maybe he likes the taste of human flesh. Who knows what he’s about to reveal? The Jeffery Dahmer of late night tv!
Letterman is stammering by this point in the story. The studio audience wants to get up and order a shot of tequila, but the unpleasantness continues.
It was sad in some ways, and humorous in others. It was certainly the theater of the absurd.
The segment went on forever. I started wondering, will this ever end. I have my own damn problems Dave. I was just really hoping you could put a smile on my face before I hit the sack.
I think I chuckled once with the confused audience. I wanted a punch line, but none was coming. It became pretty clear pretty quick that Letterman was not joking. Why was he telling us this? Was this “terrible ting” so awful that it should be disseminated by Dave himself, instead of TMZ or some other tabloid news outlet.
Was this a preemptive news release to minize damages?
He’s David Letterman. Like I thought he was living the life of a monk on a mountain top in Tibet. If he sexually harassed someone, that would be wrong, but if it was consensual, then who cares?
It would be like your bank teller using the drive through window as her opportunity to cleanse her soul. Sending that little tube back and forth and crying how she cheated on her husband. Have a nice day, would you like a lollipop with that?
David Letterman owes us all for that debacle. Make me laugh twice for the night you cried, on my time.
And that is crazy.