MadTV (November 9, 1996)
and gentleman, again, Mr. Kevin McDonald.
When the producers of MadTV asked me to do a monologue, I thought,
"Hmm, that sounds like a lot of fun." You know what happened?
They took away the fun part. It seems they didn't "cop" to my
ideas. And, I think I came up with some pretty good ones. For
example, I wrote a piece called "The 483 Things That Bother Me."
I read it to them; they said, "You can't be on TV for 17 straight
Fine, so now I have to deal with time restrictions. My next idea
was something I call "Butchering a Cow."
They said, "Oh great, uh what's that a clever analogy for?"
I said, "Analogy, my sweet ass. I bring a cow onstage, I name
him, and then I butcher the damn thing. Chopping and chopping
They said, "Sure, uh Kevin, it's funny on paper, but where does
Where does it go? I'm choppin' up a cow. I'm covered in blood.
It writes itself. Still, all day, all I heard, [whiny:] "Where
does it go? Where does it go?"
So! Then, I pulled out the big gun--a sure winner I call "Nazi
Dance Party." This is where I wear a grass skirt, go-go boots,
and a couple swastikas. Nevermind.
My point is, I would not give up. I said, "Okay, you MadTV producers,
I'll give you one more monologue idea--'Hate Sex with an Ex-Girlfriend.'
Sure, I'd be out here with a real-live ex-girlfriend, ya know
on the floor, doin' it, not facing each other, industrial music
blaring in the background, strobe lights flashing, not facing
each other! Real good ol' fashioned hate sex! Hysterical, huh?!"
Well, apparently not. Because at this point, one of the producers
leaned over, pressed a button, and I fell through a trap door.
Two minutes later, I'm swimming in a sewer, looking for my way
out. *Who* gave the producers of MadTV the *power* to build a
At this point, I said "screw this." I didn't bother to push my
other monologue ideas--"Kevin: Naked and Wet," "My Webbed Feet,"
"Still-Born Pie" (it's a character piece.) And I said to myself,
"These MadTV suits wouldn't know a funny idea if one took a crap
on of their kids' heads!" Which, by the way, was another monologue
idea of mine they rejected! Great! That's just great. In that
case, I'll just do a monologue with all the monologues I wanted
to do, ya fat-assed bastard suits!
Thank you good night.
[Leaves, but tests each step gingerly before he moves.]
Where the hell did they find the time to build a trap door?!