Introducing Rob Diener
Hi. I'm Rob Diener, and I'm only here because Neal begged me to be here, and now that he's labeled me a lonely, perverted Jew, I'm thrilled to have accepted. I'm only a Jew because my parents are Jews, okay? I didn't ask to be a Jew. In fact, I've asked several times not to be a Jew. Anyway, since we are most likely meeting for the first time, why don't we allow someone whose judgment isn't fogged by bitter jealousy to tell you a little more about me.
I am beauty incarnate. I am the mint left on your pillow which, upon further inspection, turns out not to be a mint at all. I am the faint smell of sulfur on the hands of a Viennese prostitute. I am the Ma Rainey of tomorrow. I am bombast masquerading as a whisper. I am the tattered, stinking rattan clothes hamper of which your toddler daughter has availed herself during a spirited game of hide-and-go-seek. I am a licensed notary public working out of a tiny travel agency in Galveston, Texas. I am the distant glimmer of potential sex flickering in the night sky. I am a raisin
in the sun and a dried apricot on the moon.
I am the threat of a rubella outbreak in your local school district. I am the hand that fashions the band-saw that cuts off the other hand. I am the dog that lies at your feet and secretly wonders what it would be like to kill you and eat you. I am Tony Danza. I am a cloistered monk with a $1000 a week cocaine habit. I am the last muddy puddle in the dried-up creek that runs past Ted Nugent's house. I am the west coast's third largest manufacturer of custom-fitted latex bondage masks. I am the box of unspeakably horrible photographs hidden below a loose floorboard in your favorite uncle's crawlspace. I am the urine in your coffee.
I am the opening act for a C&C Music Factory cover band. I am the
twelve-inch tuna sub a spiteful coworker hid in the heating duct nearest your office. I am your grandmother's dildo. I am your teenage son's burgeoning fascination with Hitler. I am the inventor of the collapsible top hat. I am the Pygmies' best and last hope. I am truth, I am light, I am sick of this fucking bit and I'm stopping it now.
I hope this clears up any misconceptions.
As for what to expect from me this week, I'd prefer it not be much. Be pleasantly surprised when I do well, be gentle and nurturing when I fail, and no matter what, never forget that I love you.
(I'll be back again tomorrow, but if you need me before then, I can be reached at www.funnsylvania.com or, if it's an emergency, email@example.com. See you soon.)