An Open Letter to David Letterman

Dave, I was once a big fan of yours. You were my hero. You were bold. Irreverent. Unpredictable. You defied categorization. You took a stale medium and turned it on its ear.

It wasn't just that you were funny. Other people could make that claim. You were different. You were, well, Dave. We bonded with you. We loved you in a way that we did not love entertainers, especially TV stars.

In the 80's the Letterman cult was loyal and devoted and I was pretty close to a charter member. Your fans were not typical TV fans. We were more like Deadheads or Phishheads or Red Sox Nation. Perhaps the only TV cult that surpassed the Letterman cult--in theatrics if not in fervor--was the "Star Trek" cult. But Trekkies never loved Shatner the way we loved you. We really loved you, Dave.

Maybe you were an elitist pig all along but you were able to disguise it. Maybe that man of the people thing was one big sham. It wasn't just your humor, it was your courage. If it was a movie star, an NBC hack or a big shot of any kind, you Dave, knocked them off their pedestal. You were the kid who made rude comments about emperors' clothing. David Letterman: Man of the People.

But somewhere along the way, Dave, you lost your edge. Maybe it was success. Maybe it was money. Maybe it was boredom. An unmistakable bitterness set in that competed with your humor. You took shelter in formula. For whatever reason, Dave, you lost your courage.

No comedian ever rose to the top without courage. None of them get where they got by charting the course of lesser resistance. Unfortunately, when they reach the top they usually start playing it safe. They grow rich and fat and spineless. Pusillanimity is their constant companion.

When the most pompous, the most pampered, the most inflated, the least analyzed, the least scrutinized, the least inspected, and yes, the least tested superstar in history emerged on the scene, the Dave we had grown to know and love was not there to greet him. You sold us out, Dave. You joined the legion of poltroonish cocksuckers. It is hard to imagine a vintage 85 Letterman taking Obama's engorged member to the lower depths of his esophagus. It is hard to imagine the angry young Dave wiping the jism from his lips and studying it under the moonlight. It is hard to imagine the NBC Dave savoring a septic peanut and proclaiming to the world that it tastes like cheese cake. But this is the Dave we have come to know. Dave, the slayer of superstars, had become a superstar. There are no clowns on Mount Olympus.

Dave, if your obsequiousness was nauseating for its cowardice, your attacks on Sarah Palin (to say nothing of her 14 year old daughter) were ruthlessly emetic. Somewhere along the way, simple cowardice was not enough for you. Yours was conspicuous cowardice. Contemptuous cowardice. Divert your eyes because it hurts to watch cowardice. Dave, you have morphed into a pussy. A wuss. A twit. A flit. An empty vessel. A wimp. Ah, but you could still toss your chamber pot at the peasants with the best in Hollywood.

Dave, your comments hurt in a way that Sean Penn and Brad Pitt and Matt Damon and Ben Affleck can never hurt. Those people were always smug cocksuckers. They will always be smug cocksuckers. They live for the purpose of cultivating and flaunting their well-honed sense of superiority. Of course, they will always side with fellow elitists. Elitism is their very essence. But Dave, you were the antidote to the smug cocksucker. For a while, you really were the voice of the people.

There is something sadly ironic about your trashing Sarah Palin. That is, Palin 2008 came closer to capturing the spirit of Letterman 1984, than anyone, including the 2008 Letterman. It is easy to imagine a premenopausal Letterman pointing out that the man who would be king spent years wandering the streets with no actual responsibilities. It is not hard to imagine Dave in his prime poking fun of a man of marginal achievement writing two autobiographies. And yes, the Dave we grew up with would have had a field day with the hokey-ass styrofoam Greek columns. Palin 2008 had not yet lost her courage.

I cannot entirely stop loving you, Dave. You were my hero and when the mob ridicules my favorite has been, I am quick to remind them that you were once the funniest man in the world. But Dave, watching you now is like watching another has been, the formerly formidable Muhammad Ali. These days Ali walks like a butterfly and talks like a bee. Kind of like your monologues. But do remember, there is a major distinction between you two has beens. Ali never lost his courage and as a result, he stayed too long. You Dave, abandoned your courage, and because of that, you stayed too long.

It's time to hang it up, Dave. Go home and count all of your money. But do go home. And don't come back. You fucking sell out.