Public Face
by Daniel Beadle - Saturday, July 28, 2007
"Even though Jake Alberts masturbated violently every day, he wasn't a particularly bad person."Of course he had his vices. The only time he wasn't drunk was when he was hung over. And the only time he didn't have a cigarette in his mouth was when it was in his hand.
"But on the plus side, he had a kind of charisma that cameras and audiences loved. With the face of a poor-man's Johnny Knoxville, and wearing his signature black and white suit, he walked out on that stage and was a god for an hour every weeknight. Parents and politicians hated him, but audiences loved him.
"He was the marginal that became mainstream. And all it took was a lot of booze, a lot of hookers, and absolutely no moral standing."
Jake, wearing his black suit, sits alone in his dressing room. The sound of a roaring audience trickles in through the cracked door. He stares vacantly through his blood-shot eyes at a jizz-stained picture of a young Britney Spears. The smoking filter of a Blanchard cigarette rests in his left hand.
Jake stands, observing himself in the mirror. His fly is partially unzipped, his shirt partially untucked. His tie is loose, his collar wrinkled with a trace of blood on it. His stubble is on the verge of becoming a beard, and his hair is flattened on one side.
"Two minutes, Mr. Alberts," says a voice to Jake's right. He grunts in response, as he straightens his tie and winks at himself in the mirror.
“Hey everybody! What’s up?” Jake stand before his massive studio audience, with a small army of video cameras shifting and sliding to keep the host in the frame. The audience cheers. “Thanks for stopping by. How we all doing tonight?” More cheers. “You don’t have to lie.” Laughter. “It’s just me.
"You get some people, they say ‘Hi, how are you, did you have a good day? Funny thing happened to me today…’ BullBEEP. Nothing funny happened to me today. I had to get up at seven, got in around 6:45, so I’m fighting for those fifteen minutes on unconsciousness.” Laughter.
“My girlfriend… well, not really my girlfriend. More like this girl who I pay for her company and the occasional hand job.” Laughter. “But I guess if it’s a recurring situation, I can call her my girlfriend. So my girlfriend comes bouncing in, saying ‘Honey, it’s so nice out. Let’s go out and play.’ ‘Cause she likes that kinda thing. She’s young, she’s fifteen.” Laughter. “Well, she will be in a couple of months.” Laughter.
“But I’m not the kind of person that wakes up in the morning thinking that life is gonna be great. Because it’s not. Life is BEEP. It’s either BEEPing you over or BEEPing you up, and believe me, it’s never fun to be BEEPed. Just ask my girlfriend.” Laughter. “As I said to a buddy of mine before the show, ‘Life is like dating a girl: it sucks, except for the occasional orgasm.’” Laughter.
