Okay dudes, I’m just gonna come out and say it: I am basically the Bo Burnham of Northeastern Pennsylvania.
That special got a lot of love, and it’s definitely good or whatever, but the thing is, I could for sure do that, too. I am not only super creative and weird, but I also have a Casio keyboard, a lease-to-own smart phone with a 4K camera, and some Christmas lights. Sorry, holiday lights.
I am also always making up funny songs. My roommate (husband) is always laughing when I sing dark stuff at really random times. One example is this morning when he told me that Demi Lovato OD’d on Fentanyl—she had three strokes and a heart attack. I immediately—like without skipping even one beat—sang, “three massive strokes and heart attack” to the tune of Beck’s “Where It’s At” (“two turntables and a microphone,” get it??). My roommate (husband) laughed and said that I was a fucked up person. I feel like if Netflix had overheard that interaction, they would’ve hired me over Bo on the spot.
It’s like Bo is getting all this credit for being lonely and sad. Um, hello? I am so fucking lonely and really fucking sad. Yeah, I’m married to my roommate or whatever, but don’t be fooled: Bo has a hot girlfriend! It’s true. I Googled him. Sometimes you can feel very alone even with another eating, farting, snoring being nearby. My roommate (husband) makes me call him my roommate and plays video games all day while I sit in the laundry room smoking bad weed and thinking about how I def should be a famous comedian/ director/musician by now, just like Bo. And I totally could be if someone would just bankroll the extravagant lifestyle my insane creativity requires for a few years (decades).
Recently I took a whole bottle of Benadryl just to see what’s up. I’m wild like that! I slept for like five days. When I finally woke up, I had shit myself, and my brain felt like a brick. Wait, that gives me an idea for a song. Something like, “I shit a brick and that brick was my brain. Help me, I’m in the future and I’m going insane…” Sing that to yourself in a robot voice, cuz that’s the plan. I have an app that can do voices—robot, high-pitched baby, serial killer—like, not to sound like a dick, but Bo isn’t the only one who ever had the idea to produce his own stuff. Yeah it’s the free version of the app and I can only do one recording a month, but that’s all I need.
Bo talked a lot about the current state of things, like technology (I have it), isolation (um, yeah), capitalism (kill me now), racial tension (my neighbor has a “Protect ICE” sign in their yard), etc. He was also honest about being a dude who can pretty much sail through life on a yacht of white male privilege. And he’s tall. Tall people just do better. It’s true. I Googled it. The NBA, man. Those are some big guys. And they’re all doing great.
The way I could improve on what Bo did with his special is by being honest about being a woman. Like, I admit it, I am white (sorry). But I am also a very short (sorry), old (sorry) woman with weird boobs (not sorry) and no money (very sorry). I’m not shooting my special in my Los Angeles pool house. I’m shooting it in my Rust Belt laundry room. Like, I think people would want to hear about/see that? My roommate (husband) has a friend (our dog) and they both indicated they’d watch.
Anyway, hit me up soon, Hollywood. I’m ready to be the Bo Burnham of Northeast Pennsylvania. Let’s do this before I turn to coal dust.
For more from this issue, click here
Support leftist comedy and art! Subscribe to our Patreon or buy some physical goods from our shop.