Let me preface this by saying that I am not usually one to jump on the proverbial band wagon. Your name without any help from me is synonymous with douches who think they're funny, and you have already taken the lion's share of the degradation and shame that comes with being a “comedian.” Still, I feel compelled to inform you that writing the words “Dane Cook” and “comedy” in the same sentence will probably cause me to develop ulcers of biblical proportions. How I suffer for my moral crusades!

That being said, I can no longer sit back while your egregious blunders defame the good name of those around you. I think we both know that I'm talking about the irreparable damage you did to the esteemed career of one of my idols, the illustrious Dennis Rodman. This fellow has presumably had his penis inside of Carmen Electra, and if you don't think that's a solid reason to be venerated then you're an even bigger tool than I thought.

Dennis Rodman is the artist who gave us Double Team, a synergy of the Muscles from Brussels' feminine grace and the Worm's, as he prefers to be called by his friends, raw ass kicking ability. Rodman even managed to make Van Damme look believable as an action star, further validating his ascension into the thespian arts from the blacktop. Surely this was a sign of great things to come from this cross-dressing behemoth. That is when his path inadvertently collided with yours, and his career has yet to recover.

Dennis Rodman dead
“Look at me, Dane… I need you to know something… if I die, you can have my penis, but promise me you'll use it only to fuck women. Can I trust you, Dane?”
I was flipping through the channels the other day when I stumbled upon the remains of what would have surely been a cinematic masterpiece without your shameful attempt at comic relief. I am referring of course to 1999's Simon Sez, the movie that should have propelled that ebony colossus unto unparalleled fame and riches. Instead, you doomed him into a life of obscurity and women that I'm sure are no where near as hot as Carmen Electra. Your zany antics and over-exuberance blinded the audience from the subtlety and nuance of Rodman's performance.

Now you might point out that the summer of ‘99 is the same one in which he was accused of rape, and that the country was already sick of his antics before the movie came out. On the validity of both these points, I must grudgingly concede. But this alone does not explain why you started strutting around like a T-Rex in the aforementioned fiasco, nor does it justify the results of your malfeasance and tomfoolery. I'm on to you, you charlatan. Oh, I went there you little hussy.

For defaming this icon of American culture, you should be flogged publicly and forced to confess your sins. Furthermore, you should be forced to revive this aging hipster from the slums of reality television and return him to his former glory. While it pains me to acknowledge your success, I feel your help is integral to Rodman's occupational resuscitation. Dare I suggest Simon Sez, Part Deux (without the T-Rex strutting of course)?

Please respond in kind with details about how you intend to rectify your aforementioned atrocities. Failure to do so within a reasonable amount of time will be taken as fighting words. Cheers!