There have been a lot of ads on Comedy Central lately for the upcoming premiere of the Chappelle Show’s Lost Episodes or whatever. Now, I’m white, so that means by law I am required to think that this show is hilarious and that my enjoyment of it somehow makes up for any kind of soft bigotry I may still harbor from my privileged upbringing. I’m also very excited for when the show starts airing in heavy rotation because that’s when Herb #3116 will start busting out his radio edit proclomations of “I’m Rick James!” That’s great. If you think it’s funny when Dave Chappelle does it, you should get your step-dad to say it, at brunch. It kills. Me.
Everyone has been all upset with Dave Chappelle for leaving the show because now America’s frat boys are scrambling for something to incessantly butcher while they stumble upstairs to their rape chambers. People want to know why he did it, if he’s crazy, how he could leave behind his rumored 50 million dollar contract, and how he could abandon middle-aged white people who felt hip for the first time in years. The release of the missing episodes is only going to make this controversial subject flare up again, especially with the purported lawsuit Chappelle might bring against the station for airing the material.
What concerns me is that while everyone’s attention is diverted by the Chappelle fiasco, a very real, very unfunny threat builds:
What is being done to stop this fucking guy? More importantly, whose dishes did he wash to get his own show?