Lesson of the day: never believe anything anyone ever tells you, ever.

In my spare time, I work as a consultant for a public relations firm in Los Angeles. It’s not my dream job, but I continue to do it on the contingency that the head of the company leave a burlap sack with a dollar sign on it stuff with cash on my doorstep every Friday. It’s worked for a year. It’s working less well. I have a job that makes you lie. To everyone. All the time. It’s tearing at my soul.

Below is an email I had to write to the producer (though he’s much more well known as a director) of probably the worst, most offensive movie (to call it a “film” would insult the very celluloid that captured it) I’ve ever seen. I’m presenting this email Mad Libs style as to not incriminate myself. Happy guessing.

Dear [name of director(s) of sometimes very funny, sometimes very gross comedies]:

I just wanted to congratulate you all on [the worst movie ever]. I attended yesterday’s New York screening, and found the film to be — in all ways — very, very [name of director, which I thought was a generic enough non-compliment that he would take as a compliment if he were narcissistic, deluded, or reading the passage in context]. It took an exceedingly taboo topic and dealt with it in a funny, matter-of-fact way. [“Actor” who should stick to riding razor blades into swimming pools filled with rubbing alcohol rather than sullying the good name of the cinematic genre ever, ever again] is proving himself to be a fantastic leading man, and the audience of [youth-oriented music network]-ers ate up every joke and pratfall.

Once again, great job in all facets, and I really look forward to working with you going forward!

Thanks and best,

[too humiliated to sign my own name]