Dear Bill O’Reilly

Dear Bill O’Reilly,

I am sorry to hear about your recent termination from Fox News. While I understand your lawyer is just doing his job, framing your firing in the acceptable fake news tone of your illustrious career, I do think it probably has more to do with the multiple women claiming you’ve sexually harassed and assaulted them, rather than a vast left-wing conspiracy. Because if this past election year has taught us anything, it’s that the Left is sub-par at pulling off successful conspiracies.

But the thing has happened. Sometimes all you can do is move on, and examine your future media options. I feel partially responsible for your demise, since I’ve spent every acid trip for the last ten years focusing my psychic energy on your dick falling off, so I came up with some possible future projects you might be interested in. Feel free to steal any of this. The only direction you can go from rock bottom is up. Or, I guess, wherever Glenn Beck ended up.

1) Start a podcast with me, about local community theater. I know you’ve got some radio experience. You may think, “Hey, how much can you really say about a community theater production? Won’t we run out of things to talk about and inevitably discuss politics, the very thing that has led to my downfall?” First of all, your downfall was because you’re an entitled old rich guy who thinks every woman is into your withered, ancient balls slapping against her thighs. Second, you would not believe the wealth of scandal and backstabbing local theater scenes can provide. Did you hear about how the last artistic director killed himself by auto-erotic asphyxiation in an off-season beach rental? I mean, I only heard that from Debbie at yoga, but she’s pretty reliable.

2) Become a spokesperson. It doesn’t really matter what for – life insurance, motorized wheelchairs, selling gold. Golfing instructional videos. Poor-proofing your house as climate change leads to worldwide mass migrations. You and Roger Ailes could even start your own business. There was this tv show I saw once, I think it was an episode of Elementary, where these guys sold shares in an exclusive end-of-the-world bunker hotel, where they conned rich guys into spending millions of dollars to reserve their spots, but the whole thing was an empty fraud, a model home kind of situation. You guys could do that.

3) Write another book. Do a tell-all about a “fictional” radio personality who gets a job at an ultra-conservative cable news network, and has to fight off the advances of fanged blonde vixens who are only concerned about advancing their careers by throwing your hero under the bus. Which is fine, cause he’s super powerful and always wins and women who cross their legs are evil. But then one day he meets this young ex-First Lady named Michelle, and he’s so smitten with her, he spends every day for the rest of his life trying to get her husband killed by a mob of patriots, the very thought of which makes him jerk off under his desk every broadcast.

Note: I am available to ghost-write this for you. And I think we should have Kirk Cameron play you in the tv adaptation. No, you cannot play yourself. Yes, we can at least let Bill Maher screen test.

4) Go Fuck Yourself. Go back to Levittown, rent a downtown condo in the newly gentrified stretch of town that just got that wine bar, and disappear in the strata of suburban sprawl American failure that you’ve been bottom-feeding off of for the past 300 years. Become a partner in a lame steakhouse that will have 2 dollar drafts on Tuesdays. Just go the fuck away and never bring your smug colonial mentality anywhere near the media ever again. Disappear. Die. Disperse. Evaporate. Perish. Vanish. Expecto Patronum. I have heard your condescending mating calls for the majority of my adult life, and there is nothing I hope for more than to have your memory completely fade from the cultural lexicon, and for no more little girls to ever associate their parents with your droning white man sneer. Fall off an iceberg and drown. Throw yourself off a bridge. Protest social security by refusing to get any older and set yourself on fire on the steps of Mar-A-Lago. Just go away.

5) Run for Congress. Because the only thing I might enjoy more than watching you get fired and then die alone and miserable, is watching you have to be an actual civil servant first. But go ahead and do #4 first.

 

Hope you find this helpful. Sorry, my number is unlisted.

Love, Bridget