Writing a book while holding down a full-time job doing two one-hour shows is impossible without support from family, friends, alcohol, and prescription medications: So I’d like to thank all of them. Of course, I must thank my wife, again, who was very patient to put up with my mood swings, driven by bouts of combination editing/writing/drinking that would leave me dazed on the couch spouting gibberish. Thanks to my mom, as always, for producing me. Now, work-wise—a special thanks to the Red Eye crew and the malcontents at The Five. On both shows, I’ve been exploring the themes, rants, and ideas found in this book, and some of these chapters began as fifty-second monologues, often proofread by Dana Perino before the show. And I owe her so much. Despite what you hear, she’s really a swell person. So is her husband, Peter. Everyone on The Five—Bob, Eric, Kimberly, Juan, and Andrea—have been a pleasure to be around, as well as all the producers (John, Porter, and the rest of the supportive crew). As for Red Eye, I thank them for putting up with me during a crazy period of work. It’s the funnest job and a great crew (Andy, Bill, Todd, Ben, Tom, etc.) to work with.
Also thanks to Roger Ailes and everyone else at the evil Death Star known as Fox News. It’s the most exciting, interesting place to work, filled with great people and ridiculously hard workers. I thank, in no order: Sean Desmond, Jay Mandel, Paul Mauro, Gavin McInnes, Penn Jilette, Larry Gatlin, the ghost of Andrew Breitbart, Ann Coulter, Woody Fraser, Joanne McNaughton, and Wes. Also John Rich, Dennis Miller, Billy Zoom, Andrew Wu, Jack Wright, Gary Sinise, Robert Davi, Skunk Baxter, Bob Tyrell, Andy Ferguson, Matt Labash, Fabio, Carrot Top, Ginger Wildheart, John Moody, Jim Norton, Tom Shillue, and Dana Vachon. Also thanks to Dianne Brandi for her invaluable advice. Thanks to Aric Webb, who offered great insight into this book’s concept. Mauro read it twice, killing my lame jokes, and adding some that were lamer. Thanks to all the local bars in my area who allowed me a corner in their taverns to slog through my piles of words—primarily Amarone, the West Side Steakhouse, Hallo Berlin—in order to carve out this book. Thanks to the local massage parlor. Thanks to Dr. Siegel. Thanks to Tobacco—the band and the substance. Also Torche and Tilts. Thanks to President Barack Obama for loaning me his collection of poetry when times got tough. And most of all, thank you, precious reader, for taking the time to indulge in my silly thoughts and mutant meanderings. I hope you are happy with your decision. Or drunk.