I own a hardcover copy of Michael Ian Black’s “My Custom Van,” and I own a Kindle. I prefer reading books on the Kindle, because of its slim, lightweight convenience, and because of my slight douchiness. Since I paid for the Luddite version of “My Custom Van,” i believe logic (and good taste) dictate that Mr. Black should buy me the Kindle edition of his book.
At this writing, the Kindle copy of the book costs only $14.37. Of course, price is no object to a man of tremendous fame and wealth like Michael Ian Black. Now, Mr. Black doesn’t exactly wipe his tuchus with $1 bills — that would be ridiculous. Rather, he pays a man-servant to do so for him. (This way, Mr. Black needn’t wash his hands when he’s finished evacuating his bowels. Nor, for that matter, need the man-servant; each is fired — both from his position, and upon — after a single wiping. And for the record, the fibers in American currency are both more absorbent and gentle than that sandpaper we “regulars” use to wipe up.)
So the fourteen dollars (by rounding) should clearly not be a hindrance to Mr. Black’s doing the right thing and buying me the Kindle edition of his book. And let’s face it: Even if Michael Ian Black had invested (and subsequently lost) all of his (considerable) wealth with Bernie Madoff, he wouldn’t need a single cent to get me a digital copy of “My Custom Van.” There’s a Word document sitting somewhere on his hard drive (I like to imagine it’s near another Word doc of his called “Ways That I Am Beautiful,” nearing approaching a gig in filesize); should Mr. Black email me a copy of “My Custom Van,” I will gladly take care of delivering it to my Kindle myself.
Since we’ve unequivocally established that Mr. Black has the means, both financial and otherwise, to get me a Kindle copy of his book, there’s really no need for me to continue. In fact, I should go power on my Kindle this instant and verify that my fresh copy of “My Custom Van” is already sitting there. But for posterity’s sake, and to avoid needing to go take care of my two young daughters, I shall continue. I will explain exactly why I believe it is that Michael Ian Black should do this, since we now all agree that he (or at least his man-servant) can.
Obviously, Mr. Black and I have a lot in common. We are both attractive Jews. We both consider Michael Ian Black to be funny. We’ve each been published on Cracked.com (see this example for him — link NSFMM — not safe for my mother, and this for one of my mine). We each enjoy sex with his wife. (I’m just kidding, of course. I find Mrs. Michael Ian Black to be an impatient lover.) And, perhaps most importantly, neither of us currently has quite the level of fame we deserve. Mr. Black, as you know, is very famous, whereas he should be exceedingly so. I, on the other hand, am not at all famous, though clearly I should be at least “somewhat.”
Truth be told, I’m already about two-thirds of the way through Mr. Black’s opus. But reading a hardcover book in this day and age feels unclean, like those precocious brats in “Slumdog Millionaire,” or most women once a month. I’m putting myself at considerable risk of paper cuts, and at a similar risk of looking like a pathetic, out-of-touch old person when paging through a “real” book in these modern times. Plus, even though I’ll probably finish the paper edition of “My Custom Van” over the course of several bowel movements in the next two days — last night’s dinner was from Applebee’s — I would obviously take tremendous pleasure in being able to tell my friends and loved ones that Michael Ian Black (finally) gave me what I deserved: The Kindle edition of his (possibly) best-selling book.
Fair is fair, Michael. And I apologize for making those earlier jokes about your wife. As we both know, that was for the sake of comedy. And as we also both know, I actually prefer sex with your mother. And books formatted for the Kindle.