I’m trying to raise money to open a comedy club called Cucumber. It sounds nuts but I want to buy and renovate a factory building right across The Hunt’s Point Fruit and Vegetable Market. I designed a great bar and restaurant that will draw in Mayor Bloomberg because the only smoking allowed will be the great hot talent sizzling on stage! I expect Whoopi Goldberg, Steve Martin, and more to show up swinging with a brass knuckles band to jazz up my club! Who am I? I’m not Spider Man breaking his butt on Broadway. Think of me as the Bugsy Siegel of The South Bronx! O.K. First things first: you got to sign me out of Bronx State Mental Hospital. After that, so help me, I’ll going to kill the audience! I want prove without a shadow of a doubt that life sucks wonderfully. Whoa! New York, I got your stimulus package for job creation right here!
I can just see the sign over the blow dryer: Cucumber can’t be held responsible for what occupies your minds. We can only enforce ex-Hooters employees now working for us to wash hands after using the bathroom. Whoa! We don’t want to lose our license to thrill Mr. Weiner and other politicians living double lives! We got to run a clean business to make it in this dirty little town called New York, New York!

P.S: If the court of public opinion should put me in chains, I’ll escape by saying the magic words: What? Me worry? You got a problem with me trying to make you happy? I didn’t think so, you ingrates.

Enjoy the free buffet.

Now leaving the Reality Distortion Field