Dear Mr. Heckler - March 30th 2003

I’d like to use this week’s entry to address an incident that occurred last week. I was heckled on Thursday night. Gasp! (the sound of comedy fans across the globe in utter disbelief that someone could take a cheap shot at yours truly) For the most part, I don’t care much for hecklers. They are mostly pathetic individuals who work unbelievably horrible day jobs, and think that being part of the show for fifteen seconds can make up for a lifetime of wrong decisions. However, this heckler was different. After being promptly ejected, he accosted me at my table to continue his senseless diatribe. I didn’t say much. For the most part, I let him ramble and counted how many times he used the words “suck.” (Twenty-three) I would like to use the remaining part of this entry to address this man. Though I don’t know his name, and he is probably incarcerated by now, this letter is for you.  Dear Mr. Heckler, Do you remember who I am? You visited a comedy club last Thursday night and you were kicked out after the third act. Do you remember this? You were amazingly drunk and everyone thought you were an a******. (It just occurred to me that this is probably not a new development for you so I will continue.) After being kicked out, you ambled at the bar outside, wondering why the comics were ignoring you from across the room. Anyways, I just wanted to thank-you. Really, I do. I realize you must not get this a lot working at the mass-transit station, but I suddenly remembered how great my life is compared to the abysmal hopelessness that you must encounter everyday of your existence. Anyone who turns 40-person crowds against them and makes me seem like a noble hero is worthy of my gratitude. Thank-you, Mr. Heckler. I will dedicate my life to helping others and enjoy life’s rewards while you change tokens for dollar bills. Your friend, Tarun