So am I supposed to just start dancing for you people?

"Chris, where's your TV show like you promised? Dance for us! Dance, dance for your meal! Chop chop!"

No one has yet thrown me so much as a morsel to compensate for the life force that your innumerable tendrils of rapaciousness drain from my soul. It's amazing that I can get up in the morning. So I will do my show in my way in my sweet time.

I still haven't figured out what I want my show to be. Whatever it turns out to be, it's not going to be a straight-up anything. I never had any intention of working Jon Stewart's side of the street. (Whom I admire tremendously and at whom I will take the occasional swipe just to keep him on his toes. Competition in the industry keeps the quality of everyone's product high. And he's like my imaginary big brother, with all its complexities.)

I have reached some conclusions about my show:

• I like the text-based portion. I can create entire universes here for no cost, excepting the cost of my time. This is especially cost-effective for destroying the malignant Establishment.
• I want to have a video portion of the show. I like the Kookie Talk Express and where I do little bits.
• I will continue to include YouTube videos. My show is music-heavy, and I would like to select YouTube videos based on some artistic value.

I tread a tricky line between being completely strange and insane-sounding, and retaining the credibility to comment on legal or political matters without tarnishing the topic. "Chris is crazy! So obviously his arguments are crazy and we may safely dismiss the significance of the topic that he has covered." Please don't do this, because it is disrespectful to the topic. Merits of arguments exist quite independently of the state of my mind. That's why I rely on logic: So that no matter how crazy I may be on any given day, the argument is valid or invalid completely independently of me. Treat arguments with the respect they deserve. But leave them out of the asylum that is my mind.

I exist in some kind of weird unreality. I still cannot confirm that anyone even reads this. To this day, I honestly don't know how you people are getting my material. So I liken my show to an unseen audience spying on someone playing by himself. I sometimes cock an ear and think that I hear the creaking of floorboards or a ghostly whisper. It's a very odd way to work. But self-consciousness destroys the entire process; you start "showing off." When I play to the audience, my material is not very good. So I would prefer to play to myself. If my play brings you joy or anger or comfort or insight, then it has been to my pleasure and fulfillment, because it has evoked in you what it evoked in me.

My show always has been, and is, and must always remain, me playing by myself. I fantasize that I have an adoring audience before whom I take gracious bows and from whom I receive roses and gifts and acclaim. But I think that if ever I were to receive confirmation that an audience actually existed, I would be too thrown to continue producing any decent product.

I prefer to live in an unreal world. Because in it, I can make anything real. I'm in charge. The ignored and the poor in spirit receive celebration and the haughty and wretched and venal receive destruction. In my world, everyone gets his due.

So I will continue to fantasize that I have an audience. And if I do, then forgive me should I turn from my play and scream at some unseen specter. Because in my world, that specter is as real --or unreal-- as you are.

I can't ever confirm anything to my satisfaction. My show, then, appears to be the attempts of an insane person to determine what is real. Take my show for nothing more than that, whatever it may turn out to be.

It is what it is. I don't want to fashion it. I want to coax it into whatever it wants to be.

I love each of the ghosts in my world, including each of you. I sternly dress down some of these ghosts, but I love them because they and I have come to enjoy each other's unreal company. These ghosts and I have chosen to remain together. And that's worth something to me.