Dear Dave Barry,

I WANT YOUR JOB!!!!!!!!!!!! I diligently read your humor column every week in the newspaper, and I’ve decided that when I grow up, I want a job like you have. For some reason, my parents are sobbing with grief right now. They said it has something to do with flushing my life down the toilet, but I don’t see where they came up with that idea. (Humor tip: Toilets are funny.) But seriously, I was hoping that you could retire or die or something by the time I grow up, so I can get paid for just writing hilarious, weird stuff, just like you. Maybe I can make people laugh to the point of almost spontaneously combusting, which seems to be the whole point in your job.

However, I think your column can be dangerous. I think there should be a Sturgeon General’s warning before it that says something like “WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE MAY CONTAIN STRANGE HUMOR THAT HAS BEEN KNOWN TO CAUSE UNEXPLAINED PANTS-WETTING ACCIDENTS. IF YOU HAVE BLADDER PROBLEMS, PUT DOWN THIS NEWSPAPER AND IMMEDIATELY WALK AWAY.” (Yes, I meant to write Sturgeon.) I also think there should be something on the end of that warning that says, “After you read this article, immediately run with your pet Chihuahua to the nearest Home Depot and tell an employee there to give you a truck load of cheeseburgers,” or something like that, but I don’t think anybody would pay attention to it, except for me.

I also think that you should have some sort of advertising campaign that would encourage more people to read your humor column, especially adults. The following conversation that I had with my dad proves that your humor isn’t appealing to people who have a loathsome hate toward lobsters. (By the way, I am not making this up.)

DAD: What are you reading?

ME: (laughter) Dave Barry’s article in the newspaper.

DAD: Does it involve Norwegian zombie slugs?

ME: Well, no……

DAD: Then it isn’t funny.

ME: Yes, it is!

DAD: What could possibly be funny, other than Norwegian zombie slugs?!!

ME: Well, according to Dave Barry, weasels and Canada are!

DAD: I don’t get it.

ME: Me either, but that’s what makes it so funny!

DAD: Whatever.

You see, most people think that humor has to involve a story, with rising suspense, and then a punch line, whatever that’s supposed to mean. However, you and I, along with many other alert readers around the country, somehow understand your strange sense of humor, something I call “Barryism.” Together, as a united union of people with twisted minds, we shall rise up and triumph over the forces of darkness known only as punch lines and rule the world with the mighty power of rubber chickens. I have even designed a flag that all men and women of the world shall revere as a symbol of patriotic lunacy all around the world:

Pretty cool, huh? The beauty of it is its ugliness, or something stupid like that. Oh, well, I’m wasting way too much paper already with this letter, and paper comes from trees, and, as we all know, trees are the home of the beautiful Norwegian zombie slug. According to some wacko Middle-Eastern religions, your afterlife is greater or worse depending on how you treat Norwegian zombie slugs. I don’t want some Middle-Eastern crackpot coming after me with a machine gun, so I’d better stop this letter pretty soon.

Anyway, I hope you’ll consider my suggestion of letting me take your job. If you don’t, you will pay, because, like it or not, I’m a Norwegian zombie slug! Muwahahaha! Just kidding. By the way, I also want to thank you for making me laugh my head off.

Semi-sincerely,

Paul M. Bowers

P.S. Please consider that Sturgeon General’s warning thing, too!