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CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #463

We need to have a serious conversation about these vanity cards. Before we start I just want to make clear that you've been great. For something like eighteen years you've paused your VCRs and DVRs to read them. Maybe you chuckled. Maybe you shrugged. Maybe one of them made a deep, positive impact on your life. Or, more likely, made you want to mail me a letter dusted with anthrax. Doesn't matter. The important thing to remember is that this is not about you. It's me. Gimme a minute. This is hard. Okay, here it is... It's time for me to stop writing these things. Now before you say anything, just hear me out. The brash young man who liked to jerk a bony knee into the corporate ball sack is no longer brash nor young. The smart aleck who once delighted in twisting the cultural nipple is not feeling so smart anymore, nor is he clear on what an aleck is. And perhaps most telling, the smug word jockey who never missed an opportunity to tickle the establishment prostate sans Astroglide, now finds that metaphor offensive. Which means it's time to hang it up. It's time to write the last vanity card. Which is what this is. So... Thank you. It's been a great ride. I'll miss our time together. Remember me fondly. All things that never should have happened in the first place must come to an end. Don't cry for me Argentina. Or West Covina. I miss Andy Rooney. Can anybody explain CBS's scheduling decisions to me? We are moving into an age where our memory is outsourced. The unknowable can be experienced even though it cannot be articulated. God is everything or God is nothing. Wait, maybe it can be articulated. I've taken to wearing frivolous socks. How come there are only porn stars? Where are the porn supporting players? When the noise is constant there is no information. If you're ever at an awards ceremony and they flash a happy picture of you on a screen while a woman sits nearby playing a lonely cello, it means you're a ghost watching your In Memoriam. I changed my name in an effort to eradicate what I mistakenly thought was my self. Marriage: one year of flames, thirty years of ashes. I stole that last one from somebody. I don't remember who. Turns out the Supreme Court was right. Corporations are people. Selfish, unscrupulous people. I've been struggling with memory loss and a mysterious, persistent cough. Sometimes in the middle of the night I find myself wondering if I traveled to central Africa and forgot.

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1st Aired: 6 Oct 2014

www.chucklorre.com
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