Also like Barack Obama, I can't do this without the support of great people all across the country. (Also Barack isn't allowed in Taco Bell.) So, Cracked Readers, I'm going to ask that we shift our efforts away from destroying Hannah Montana right now. That's not to say that we haven't made great progress on the Hannah Montana front- we have. For better or worse, Cracked Commenters, you crazy motherfuckers know how to get things done. In just a few months, we've contributed hundreds of Mabisms and gotten Montana's Biographicon locked. Just go ahead and search around the internet for a while and you will see anti-Montana sentiments sprouting up. Hell, in the April 18th issue of Esquire, real-live-author Chuck Klosterman even mentions Montana, what she represents, and why she might be dangerous for America. Folks, We have started something. I want you heroes to channel the energy you focused on creating and spreading this Hannah Montana Phenomenon, ("Phenomenontana?"), and put it into this new, incredibly important mission: Getting me hired as the new host of Late Night. How? Great question, You. Included in this blog post is a letter I have actually sent out to NBC, Lorne Michaels, Conan and several dozen random addresses.
I need your help, warriors. Send out similar letters. Make fliers. Somebody head over to my Biographicon page and add something about me being the new frontrunner for the Late Night desk. Has anyone told Lorne Michaels how great I look in a suit? If you get the chance, tell Lorne Michaels how great I look in a suit. (Very.) Does anyone work for Time magazine or, alternatively, any newspaper or magazine? Spread the word. Make T-Shirts. Bumper stickers. Post about it in your blog. Hit NBC.com and various messageboards. Start petitions. Punch jerks, right in their faces, (I think the message will be clear). Go to it and post your results in the comments. Why should you help me? Another terrific question. Because, Ladies and Gentlemen, I never forget a favor. If I get this job, I will
For my part, here are some other letters I've sent out:
"Dear Conan, What's up? NM here. Hey, did you know that we were Name Buddies? We are! (Name Buddies!) I heard you were heading over to The Tonight Show. Congrats. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Just figured I'd throw my hat into the ring for your replacement. (Name Buddies.) Hey, did you hear that Jimmy Fallon once called you a "cross between a clown-transsexual and Powder" (from the movie Powder)? That's what I heard Jimmy Fallon said. I don't agree with it, but Jimmy Fallon said it. Also he giggled while he said it. Just letting you know. Hugs and Kisses, Stars and Wishes, -DOB"
"Dear NBC I heard Dan O'Brien is under serious consideration to replace Conan as the host of Late Night. Is this rumor true or merely extremely true? -A reporter (from the Newspaper)"
"Dear Max Weinberg, One time I saw you checking out magazines at a Barnes & Noble in Holmdel, New Jersey. Can I be the new host of Late Night? -DOB"
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
How did these hyper-specific tropes spread so quickly?
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.
It's easy to work the system and win these awards even if you don't deserve them.