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If you want to know why I hate your guts, maybe you should take a look at my script index and see how many hundreds of my scripts ended up on your fucking show over the last seven years. How many of them were playing as repeats on MuchMoreMusic while I struggled to catch up with the five hours of music someone else stole from me? And at the time I rewrote my song Size in 2010 the band who stole it wanted to play on your show. Did you know about them? My music would have complimented my comedy well. It worked for Jay Leno. Anyway, they tried to get me thrown in jail to play on your show. Did you know about that? But they couldn't throw me in jail because I'm the author. They all went to prison instead: the whole band. Did your whole cast go to prison? Why do your viewers take so long to figure out that your show stole my work and not the other way around? Did you turn them into vegetables with stories that were designed to enlighten them? Why do you stay on the air? So you can make your crooked network look innocent? Well, I don't care how much you parasites pay your studio audience to cheer, I'm not impressed by your performance. And I'm sure they'll find out who really owns whatever remaining poems, scripts, or statements you and your psychotic, coke sniffing mentor George Carlin helped yourselves to over the last seven years as you took the cleverness it lent your appearance to spin hate for their author, enjoying the trust the public first had in me right up to the present moment for some of it. Your comedy is about as funny as your justice to its victim.
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