Oh J-J, I’ve missed your sneer, your unexamined sense of superiority. I must admit that while you’re out sniffing Edmund Wilson’s panties, I’m in your house, sniffing yours. You are SO right! Of course! How stupid of me to enjoy that interview without thinking of it your way. How very intolerably thick of me to go about trying to enjoy things in my own, simple-minded manner.
Though you know, a part of me does wonder, and please forgive me for this lingering whiff of apostasy, that if the footage contains such obvious defects, is so raw (here’s the inevitable reference to the condition of your “manhood” during one of your marathon rants at the latest antics of those insufferable harlots of Jersey Shore, as with the other hand you’re throwing popcorn at your face, guffawing, shifting in the discomfort of your still-sealed pyloric valve), that maybe, just maybe, they were cuts intended for the director’s own use, and, please forgive my faithlessness, that they were released out, and please hold your outrage, out of the kindness of his heart (oh, I know all too well that men of your caliber don’t have a use for such vestigial organs) for the community’s perusal!
Ah, but that’s right, I guess it does defy the imagination to think that an interview could be anything but a grilling session, a chance to waterboard the interviewee for their flimsy, downright un-Pudloian thoughts and opinions. Can you imagine (such audacity) that these interviews may have been a sampling, a survey of the opinions, thoughts and personalities of IF developers and contributors, past and present. It’s almost as if these are rough-cuts from a work of history, not a segment of 60 minutes! The horror!
Well, that was a scary venture outside the accepted tenets of your church. I see why the elders forbid careless use of non-approved media and ideas. Absolutely dangerous, that stuff. I guess I will retreat back to under your bed so that I can watch you sleep. You’re so cute when you sleep. Sometimes, I take a rag out, wipe the drool from your chin, and I keep that rag. I do. I suck on it when I’m anxious.