Some superfan recently wrote:
> For all loyal followers:
> The guestbook on my site is down so please do not fret my Chrissyan
> brethren, it will be back new and improved. New files will be added
> over Chrissymiss. 163 followers and growing.
> Chris Elliott es dio.
There is a strange uncanny theme of Chris Elliott and religiousness
happening here lately. This is interesting. We don't seem to feel it
is enough to just be fans; we seem to need to glorify Chrissy's humor.
(Okay, and also blasphemy is FUN!) The following is a letter that was
written long ago, that my dear and very funny sister wrote to me,
immediately after she watched her first or second episode of Letterman
which featured Chris. Suffice it to say, the letter bears a marked
resemblance to the religious threads that have been posted here lately,
and it is an 8 year old letter. I've titled it, "Chris Elliott Epiphany
and Blasphemy." Read with sarcastic abandon, for greatest effect. It
also helps if you've had a Catholic upbringing so that you can enjoy the
mockery therein as well.
1989. By Barb, age 20.
I cannot begin to express to you the sheer exhilaration that I
experienced while watching the Elliot Scamps tonight (last night to your
people). I will say only this (not likely): After viewing this program
I can die a fulfilled person. And I mean that sincerely, Katy. Oh,
yes, I mean that sincerely.
I will only say this: I am so enamored by the absolute genius
(Hosanna in the highest), that I would, of my own free will, lend
kidneys, lungs, and corneas to him, in thanks for his great sacrifice:
“He was funny, so that we may laugh. He was entertaining, so that we
may be entertained. He gave unto his flock the very life blood which
nourishes the vagrant souls that wander the reaches of the universe. He
hath filled his cup a-runnin’ over, so that we may drink and be not ever
thirsty. He hath quenched the ethereal yearnings for ultimate humor.
Death, be not proud.” (43:7 Psalms of Daddy’s Boy)
And yet this is only the beginning. Not only has the holy one
right to give him only thanks and praise) nourished us with his own
outpourings of love and compassion, but he has also given us
inspiration. He has given us a pathway to the light of fulfillment.
Through him, with him, in him...we have been reborn! We have been given
the approval, the authenticity, the very blessings necessary to nourish
ourselves. Through his example, so shall we follow. So shall we
proliferate genius. So shall we spread the gospel of our savior, the
I cite the miraculous story of Jonah, lost peasant soul of Bethlehem,
merit of the savior’s omnipotence: “And Jonah looked upon the savior
and the savior raised aloft his mighty sword and said, ‘By the power of
all that is funny, I am the power lord!’" (Or some similar utterance.
Jonah was always a prevaricator.) Jonah knelt at his feet and pretended
to be The Guy Under the Seats, in reverence to his holiness. And the
lord was pleased.” (33:461)
And now it gets to be restroom pamphlet material. And yet you
can I, an unfunny heathen of humor, be blessed by he who is funny, and
not a heathen like me and not him, he who is unheathenistic concerning
humor and who is funny, unlike me who am unfunny, while he is not?”
And I answer you, as his holy hilariousness would answer: Fear
lost souls, the vast pit of unfunniness. For it is when you are on the
brink of tumbling into this crevasse that someone will come to you,
bearing dribble glasses and phony doggy doodie plastic things. You must
resist these superficial temptations, as they are the devices of
entrapment of the minister of crude, uninspired unfunniness (he is
manifested in folklore as Rodney Dangerfield). He would have you accept
this level of humor, condemning you to eternal damnation.
Resist, gentle souls, and he shall bestow unto you the true spirit of
funniness. And then ye shall dwell in the house of the lord. And ye
shall be allowed cable reception, so you will forever be blessed with
specials which transcend and bypass the Satan of satire’s impositions.
Ye shall be truly blessed. Blessed are the cheese-makers, for they
shall inherit the cows. Blessed are the joke-makers, for they shall
inherit complete collections of Chris Elliott performances and videotape
of Michael Palin and Terry Jones giggling frantically.
And, finally, blessed are the blasphemers, for they shall inherit a
surprise upon death, and who doesn’t love a good surprise. And to any
who still doubt the authenticity of his holy humorousness then hear
this: If you were God, wouldn’t you want a son like Chris?