It has recently come to my attention (as well as the attention of everyone else) that you are in rehab for Sex Addiction. First off, let me say congratulations; that's super great. Probably the best addiction to have behind heroin. I mean, they die young and look pretty haggard, but you know those guys are happy like most of the time.
I imagine it's much the same with a sex addiction, especially for someone who can get sex so readily. Is rehab just a big 24-hour orgy, or what? Because thatâs all I hear from Lohan. Again, congrats.
But the reason I'm writing is that, as you are probably aware, your character in Californication also suffers from a sex addiction. Quite a coincidence. I hope Iâm not jumping the gun when I assume that after this whole rehab thing dies down, youâll probably become a paranormal investigator.
And when you doâ¦please, Mr. Duchovny, let me be your Scully.
I've already talked to Gillian Anderson, or rather the person at her gate, more than thirty times, and I've been assured by him that she's not interested in paranormal investigation. If you don't believe me, I've got the restraining orders to prove it. Sheâs just a terrible woman. That leaves the door wide open for her replacement, and Iâd like to be the first to submit a resumÃ©.
As we in the paranormal investigation business like to say, BAM:
185 lbs. (not counting aura)
Sort of like the guy from Oasis
A piercing and unearthly brown
To obtain work as the scientifically-minded, skeptical partner of paranormal investigator David âMulderâ Duchovny.
Was one of six people to see the second X-Files movie opening night, and still maintain that I liked it, despite all logic to the contrary.
Am in possession of a number of David Duchovnyâs and Gillian Andersonâs personal garments, which can be returned if I should attain the desired position, or else simply used as inspiration in the field.
Saw a vampire once. Iâm pretty sure. He had his mouth on another guyâs neck, and he was dressed very fashionably.
In High School, was voted âmost likely to investigate paranormal activity.â
Once watched every episode of The X-Files over a three-day weekend, and still didnât understand who the cigarette-smoking man was.
Own the album Californication.
Paid Cracked blogger, specializing in news of the paranormal (will occasionally cover many other topics).
Managed sketch troupe âThose Arenât Muskets!â in the hope of accidentally recording footage of a ghost. Efforts so far unfruitful. Troupe name is a reference to the famous utterance of the âGaberdeen Witchâ as she was hung in 1782.
Night shift bag checker at Ralphâs Market of the Strange. Witnessed no less than three ectoplasmic manifestations and one dimensional vortex in the mayonnaise aisle.
All past lives-Present:
Seeker of The Truth. Place of employment: Out There.
Can play the X-Files theme (and only the X-Files theme) on acoustic guitar.
Can also render the same on paper: Wah-wah-wah-wah-WAH-wah. (Deedledeedledeedle) Wah-wah-wah-wah-WAH-wah. (DeedledeeDEE) WAH-wah-wah-wah-WAH. DUNdundun. Created by Chris Carter.
Willing to satisfy Mr. Duchovnyâs sex addiction twice weekly, on the condition that I am allowed to wear rubber gloves.
And just in case that sterling resumÃ© isnât enough to sway you, Iâve taken the liberty of providing an excerpt from a little piece of fan fiction I like to call âThe Curse of The Were-Mummy.â I think a quick read will help assure you that Iâm the only man for the future job.
âBut isnât that the point?â Mulder persisted, placing his hand on the butt of his gun like the biggest badass youâve ever seen. His face seemed tortured with a yearning for Truth; a Truth that forever eluded him. âHow do we know it wasnât
a demonic force that stole the stereo out of this TransAm?â
Mulderâs partner paused, smirking skeptically. âScience,â he muttered, and slid into the driverâs seat of their black Escalade like a snake slithering through a pat of honey butter.
Mulder laughed bitterly. âAgent Swaim, always the skeptic.â
Agent Swaim,â he corrected, starting the carâs engine with a deafening roar. âNow come onâ¦weâve got a werewolf to kill.â And as they tore off into the night, Percy Faith blaring full volume, Mulder felt that for once, maybe the Truthâ¦was in here.
I await your phone call, Mr. Duchovny.
When not writing for Cracked, Michael searches for his lost sister as head writer and co-founder of the ongoing paranormal research group Those Aren't Muskets!
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