A piece I wrote for National Lampoon about a crazed man breaking into the set of MasterChef Junior and giving a strange monologue. See here or read below.
Okay, first off, huge fan of the show, and please– please, hold your security off for one minute — if you were that concerned about safety, you shouldn’t have left the studio door wide open. Look, we all know that if you continue on with this format for much longer, MasterChef Junior is donezo. You can only watch these kids cook so many dishes before it’s like, okay, we get it, they’re better at cooking than me. Kids are better than me at a lot of things, but you don’t see me making a show called, say, “Master Get My Ex-Wife to Call Me Back Junior.” My point is, you need a new angle, which is why I’d like to invite this season’s winner to read my eulogy.
Kids, stop looking so scared. A eulogy is something that is read about a person’s life after they die. Yes, I’m going to die soon. There’s a limit to how many nickels a man can swallow and still have a functioning esophagus. Stop crying, kid. This is just science. My time is limited, and one of you, in addition to whatever it is that you win on this show, is going to get to read my eulogy. I know what you’re thinking in those tiny baby brains — “Why should I care?” Typical millennials, you kids. But I’ll indulge you.
First off, you’ll learn some to have some goddamn responsibility. What do you kids do all day? Bake shit? I bet you’ve never given a eulogy in your short, inconsequential lives. I was six when I found out our next-door neighbor, Harry, passed by trying to stick something where it didn’t belong. Yeah, you get the picture. My mother told me his family was too ashamed to throw him a funeral and asked me to say a few words about ol’ Harry in our backyard. It wasn’t glamorous but I learned two valuable lessons that day. First was that death can come for us at anytime, anywhere. Lesson two was don’t stick your ding-dong anywhere it doesn’t belong. That was the day I became a man.
I’m not above admitting that this is a mutually beneficial arrangement. While it’s undoubtedly great exposure for whichever one of you little snot-nosed Paula Deens gets to do it, it is true that I, too, have a vested interest in one of you singing my accolades, post-death. The big one being that my family has kind of ex-communicated me, so, I don’t think any of them would do it. I tell you that ‘cuz I’m honest. But also, you kids are really talented. I mean that. I know usually you’re reading, like, recipes, I guess? But I have confidence that most of you could read my eulogy beautifully. You guys can write too, right? ‘Cuz if that wasn’t clear, I’m gonna need you to write it, too. I realize I’m coming off really hot and cold here. I get it, I get it. You’re all, “Who is this guy? How did he get in?” I’m a little nervous, but really, I respect you guys. I respect what you do.
Okay, so, that guy with the gun looks pretty serious about getting me out of here, and I realize you’ve got a show to finish filming, so uh, just, think about it, alright? Also, even if you don’t win, you are invited to the funeral. Okay, okay, I’m going, get your hands off me! Just pass my contact info along to the winner of– alright, Jesus, I’m gone. Have them call me!