Update by Joe

According to an article on yahoonews.com, If one expresses his feelings in a letter, those feelings will be better understood (and received) by the recipient.  So, I've written my thoughts about our 2 days in NYC in letter form.

1. Dear Audience Members: it is impossible to look cool lugging around a backpack, projector (replete with a carrying case made entirely from Richard Simmons' lycra-spandex shorts) and a 30-lb projector screen that looks like a shotgun.  It's hard to nonchalantly walk onto stage and make hilarious observations about your deficiencies when I have to set up a projector/screen for ten minutes.   I remind myself of my 8th grade gym teacher when he was forced to teach "Health and Sexuality."  He would fumble around with the overhead projector and you got the sense his mind was still in the gymnasium, collecting dodgeballs, clocking in shuttle run times, and mentally guessing the number of sit-ups each student could do in 60 seconds.  Point is: take those few minutes during my set-up to reflect on your sadness instead of throwing beer bottles at my Richard Simmons' Lycra-spandex case.  Thanks.

2. Dear New Yorkers: I am not a magician.  My giant shotgun/projector screen does not suddenly appear out of thin air for a surprise blow to your groin (although I wish it did).  You can see it and me from blocks away if not from space.  Instead of walking into it and sending me twirling around like some princess from an animated Disney cartoon, please consider dropping to the floor and rolling into nearby subway stations effective immediately.

3. Dear Hollywood/Nick Cage: Please stop making movies about sorcery.  No one cares about secrets from the 17th century.  We want stories that take place in contemporary times with characters that are relatable like shrewish women or men who cannot comprehend the principles behind car repair and gravity.  Plus, cameos by Robert Loggia.

4  Dear shuttle driver: I had a dream.  And in that dream, you picked me up from the Newark airport at a predetermined time.  In that dream, the hotel also confirmed that you would be going to the airport every half hour on the hour.  I must have been dreaming because in reality you arrived to pick me up at a time that indicated no forethought.  I actually believe you showed up at the airport accidentally and when I flagged you down, it jogged some sort of memory about your job.   I guess your memory wasn't jogged enough, though, since you actually asked ME for directions back to the hotel. 

Also, just a heads up: since you stopped to fill up on gas (which took about 1 hour because the van was the size of a space shuttle) and smoked a few cigarettes on the way back to the hotel, it's not impolite to also see a movie (like James L. Brooks' latest laugh-fest How do you Know?), do laundry, or take the LSATs while I sit inside a heatless van listening to Gloria Estefan's Rhythm is Gonna Getcha in perpetuity.

5. Dear Waitress in hotel lounge: staring at me (with your coworkers) will not stop me from writing on my laptop in your restaurant.  I appreciate your subtle signals, though.  For example, sweeping up next to me while occasionally shoving the broom into my feet was not lost on me.  I look forward to our continued tension throughout the rest of the week.

Dear Conanorbust readers: Please keep reading and send your love/hate our way.  We're writing two new videos for NYC that should be fun.  I'll talk to you soon.

Joe