First, I'd like to thank all of you for coming here today to share in my good fortune. If I had no one to share it with - if I were standing in my apartment accepting this lovely award from a svelte delivery person, it would mean so much less.
Second, big ups to wrinkle-free pants and shirts.* I hate ironing.
Third, to someone who couldn't be here tonight. [pause, tear, look away, wrap lips tightly over teeth to prevent more tears]. To that Narcotics Anonymous charmer my mom met, who said he'd been a Navy Blue Angel, then went on to get married to her and go bankrupt as a marmot rancher. But he kept on living with the mange-ridden marmots in his van. When I talked to him, he told me he had caught something bad - marmot pox. My dad didn't believe in health insurance because he said it was a form of gambling, so he eventually died of marmot pox. The prize money that's directly associated with this award will go to the Rodney K. Tetris, Sr. Marmot Ranchers Research Foundation, which searches for cures to diseases specific to marmot ranching, such as marmot pox, marmot fever, marmot flu and you may remember the outbreak of Grand Canyon marmot encephalitis during last year's pelt collection season.
Fourth, to the rest of my family, pending the outcome of litigation related to the death of the aforementioned Rodney K. Tetris, Sr.
Fifth but not last, to lighthouse keepers, designers of automated lighthouse systems and technologies that render lighthouses useless. Thank you for keeping our shores free of shipwrecks.
Sixth, to Gordon Lightfoot, for what science has shown is the best song about shipwrecks ever.
Seventh, to Cecil Rhodes and his scholarship trust which funded my famous and well-received research into songs about shipwrecks.
Eigth, ninth and tenth to the three women who left my hotel room noiselessly (allowing me to have the full 14 hours of uninterrupted sleep I require) just as I asked them to do the night before while we were having lots of sex.
11th is an anti-thanks to the Babylonians for creating a base-60 measurement system that we still use on our clocks, which causes problems for many children. Twelve is a demand for our president to sign into law a $4 trillion piece of legislation that replaces all the world's clock with metric clocks.
Thirteen is my shopping list: King Arthur unbleached all-purpose flour, buttermilk, tomatoes.
Fourteen is a bored expression brought on by the people on NPR talking about the Israel/Palestine conflict, because you can actually predict the next sentence or two ("A bombs B, B promises retaliation AND/OR LEADER OF A condemns the attack").
Fifteen is how I feel when I see the A.N.G., which transports me to 10th grade when I had a crush on her. Sixteen is for non-sexual male/female relationships based mostly on casual dining and a shared passion for certain breakfast cereals.
Seventeen is to America's libraries. Did you know they'll just give you books? Free. I'm serious.
Eighteen is last and that's to people who give their kids weird names.
Thank you, thank all of you. I really deserve this award. Thank you.
