An open letter to Jerry Springer

May 6, 1997

Dear Mr. Springer:

You pompous, arrogant little prick.

Just who the fuck do you think you are, waltzing into Chicago, my Chicago, my town that I love and treasure? Just who the fuck do you think you are, declaring yourself "qualified" and "competent" to deliver political commentary for Channel 5, my Channel 5, my NBC affiliate that I watch on a daily basis, that I have spent lonely Saturday afternoons with, that I have fallen asleep with in the intimacy of my own bed, for Chrissakes?

You smug, self-important piece of shit.

How dare you remind us of your stint as the mayor of Cincinnati. Wait, wait, was this before or after you got caught writing a personal check to a prostitute and got booted out of office? And how dare you try to justify yourself by reminding us that you sued to be a news anchor. Was this before or after you deliberately gave up that credential of your own free will because local news just wasn't paying you enough FUCKING MONEY! And how dare you, how DARE you, Jerry Springer, how fucking DARE you compare me to Hitler in your first commentary when I have the gall to criticize Channel 5 for giving you fucking airspace to begin with! In my eyes, six million dead Jews is a far, far cry from that self-righteous piece of trash you called your first "commentary" and would have been more aptly titled, "Why I Think Carol Marin Is a Bitch!"

You low-down, muck-racking, trash-talking, gutter-licking, rock-throwing son of a bitch!

Where do you get off telling me I have a problem if I can't separate your "day job" from your "night job?" Okay, if you were the host of a wacky morning news show, I could cut you a little slack. A little. But, Jerry... come on! I mean... mothers who sleep with their sons, fathers who sleep with their daughters, brothers who sleep with their sisters, uncles who sleep with their nieces, cousins who sleep with their pets, GRANDMOTHERS WHO SLEEP WITH THEMSELVES, MY GOD, JERRY, not only should you not be allowed on the air, you should be taken out to the Daley Center one fine afternoon and be publicly flogged in front of the fucking Picasso sculpture!

And tell me, Mr. Springer, you tell me where you get off defending your industry, trying to explain that tabloid talk shows are nothing but "fun and games," an industry that has sparked thirty-two lawsuits in the last three years, an industry that has sparked a fucking death, and forgive me if I'm wrong, Jerry, but the last time I checked, Fox Thing in the Morning was making a lot of people naseous, but it wasn't prompting anyone to go on a fucking killing spree, you fucking... you, you... you fucking... FUCK!

So you're sick of not being taken seriously, Mr. Springer? Think you should get a fair shot at voicing your opinions? Then I dare you... no, I challenge you to come down to this very stage, this very one I'm standing on, next week with one of your "commentaries." Let's see you wax poetic without your jumble of illiterate, backwards, racist, homophobic, sheeplike white trash you call your audience. That's right, Jerry! I challenge you to bring your big ol' hair and your little tiny dick down to this stage, where we'll go head-to-head, brain-to-brain, mano-y-fuckin'-MANO, and we'll just see who has the most insightful commentary to offer the city of Chicago.

Sincerely,

Jason Pettus

Copyright 1997, Jason Pettus. All rights reserved.