I'm coming down from a three-week ketamine bender. You'll have to forgive me if I seem out of sorts.

"Sorts" isn't the only thing I'm out of. I'm also out of a job.

Goddammit! And I was trying really hard, you guys! But you--you!--you never watched me, you never even tried to feign interest. You just wanted to see me fail. I'm the Hillary Clinton of broadcast journalism.

Oh god. Matt! I miss my Matt! I hope the chemo worked, Matt! Please grow your hair back! [Ms. Couric continues to believe that her former co-host, Matt Lauer, is suffering from cancer, despite our repeated assurance that he actually wants his hair to look like that.--ed.]

You know, I was snorting coke off of someone's ass the other night (it might've been my boyfriend's ass, but it was dark in the bar, so who knows?), and I suddenly had a revelation. The news that CBS was dumping me had just hit, and I was feeling kind of depressed (well, I was depressed until I snorted the coke), and I realized, you know what? Fuck the news. I never understood it anyway--who wants to sit down at dinner and turn on a thirty-minute TV show that categorizes all the things that are fucked up in the world? Seriously, who wants to watch genocides and wars and financial troubles while they're trying to eat their fucking Salisbury steak or whatever? People want to watch 'Seinfeld' reruns or fake news shows like 'The Daily Show' while they're eating. They don't want to watch someone tell them how awful the world is, no matter how much of a MILF she is.

Fuck you all, you fucking ignorant philistines!

I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.

What I meant to say is, how can I convince you to let me back into your homes? Do another morning show? Should I take over for Larry King? Yes, I should. Why the fuck do you people watch that craggy old windbag and not me? Do you all secretly want to fuck Larry King more than you want to secretly fuck me? I can understand why--he's so ugly that you really do just want to give him a pity fuck. God knows I've fucked him, but I was just trying to give him a heart attack so I could take over his show. What's your excuse?

Because I got news for you (not that you ever care when I have news for you): that is one strained-peas-eating, gas-blowing senior citizen who isn't dying anytime soon. Fuck him as many times as you like on the bar at the Rainbow Room; he'll be around the next night to interview Celine Dion.

Oh Matty! Please call me. I'll come back if you ask. Just ask.