My name is spelled D-Z-E-N-G, for fuck's sake!

I'll be honest. I didn't want to write this book. But they paid me, so here it is. Well actually, it was written by a ghostwriter (hey Jake!) – just kidding, I haven't lost all my self-respect. Not yet...

So, who even reads books nowadays? I thought people only bought them to decorate their apartments. At least, that's what I do. By the way, wouldn't it be better to just get rid of shelves altogether? Something to think about.

So where was I? Oh, right. So the publisher told me that they want to publish my autobiography and do I have any questions? Of course I asked them if I could swear like the drunken sailor I am and they said, "Sure. We'll see."

Shit, fuck, cunt-licking asshole. Hey! It works! Now that that's over with, let's move on.

You might've seen me on T.V, where I host a satirical show called "Infoflash." It's a pretty sweet gig. Once a week I get to read smarmy jokes off a teleprompter written by our interns and they pay me more than you make in a year! Isn't capitalism fabulous?

All right, but how did I get here, you ask? Simple: one of my dad's colleagues was a show-runner at N54 news, and suddenly I found myself going around with a coffee pot. Refills, anyone?. It was all unpaid, of course. Apart from that, there wasn't much to do, so you could usually find me out back, taking one of my hundred-or-so daily "smoke breaks." For some reason, people thought I was funny – somehow the shit that came out of my mouth made grown men cry with laughter. So they plopped me down in front of a camera and I just kind of winged it from there.

How do you get to where I am? Well, you can't, because your dad doesn't have a show-runner friend at N54, and it's not like they're going to pluck some rando off the street. Don't you know people like me aren't supposed to rub shoulders with bottom-feeders like you? Oh, and did I already mention that capitalism is fabulous?