I have started reading a new book. Only one-and-a-half chapters in, I can unequivocally report that Chelsea Handler is a wanker. According to Webster, synonyms for wanker include dumb egg, big stiff, dummkopf, and dickhead. Which I must admit are much nicer than the synonyms for a$$h0le, which someone of perhaps less refined breeding than myself might call her.
There is the edge of insanity, and then there is the abyss. Or so said Andrew McCarthy to Demi Moore in St. Elmo's Fire, which came after my other favorite McCarthy moment of flicking his cigarette ash into the stir-fry as Judd Nelson and Ally Sheedy made out a short distance away.
I would like to think that Ms. Handler's cruel pranks are a symptom of success, and the need to constantly top herself in order to mine new material for books and her TV show. But evidence points to a pattern of such behavior far before fame befell her.
And it's funny as hell. Seriously.
I have participated in pranks devised by others, and I have engineered several of my own. But they are mild compared to those of the master, Handler. She would not deign to kidnap a wastebasket daily for 30 days from an anal-retentive English teacher, nor fill a dorm elevator with the ninth floor's lobby furniture, nor play a graphic moment from a pr0n movie to a spinster counselor under the guise of flipping channels, nor remove furniture and fill an entire room with crumpled newspapers, nor scan a letterhead from Dish Network and make a grown man cry over the purported cancellation of his pay-per-view wrestling main event.
While reading Lies Chelsea Handler Told Me, I am torn between two emotions: shock and disbelief. Shock that a person could actually foist such pranks on other human beings, and disbelief that she has lived to prank again. I can't wait to get to the next chapter.
Being an a$$h0le pays way better than teaching.