Last week, something happened to me for the first time: I had an internet success. The premiere episode of Hate By Numbers
lit up YouTube (by Gladstone standards) and brought me exposure like I'd never experienced before. True, one commenter called me a "gay ... liberal," while another found me to be more of a "Republican polesmoker," but still the page views, comments, and ratings were all largely favorable. Besides, I felt good that I could unite our politically divided country with my alleged gayness. I also garnered some nice comments from Cracked readers ---at least one of which--- will likely bring Chris Hansen to my house with a film crew. (All I can say in my defense, Mr. Hansen, is that there was some question as to whether MLE05 were an underage girl or an adult male.)
But what to do now? Yes, it's true that Michael Bay called my agent and offered money for the rights to turn
Hate By Numbers
into a summer blockbuster, starring Shia Labeouf as a dangerously unhinged mathematician, but that deal fell through. "Well, that's it," I thought. "My run at the big time is over."
But just then the red phone in the Cracked House started ringing. DOB answered.
"'This-s**t-is-wack' O'Brien is on the phone for you, Gladstone," he said.
I took the phone. "