brysonturner.com

Hi.  It’s me, Bryson Turner.  First of all, thanks for coming to my website.  I’m not sure exactly what you expect to see, or hope to find, or yearn to discover, but the one thing I promise you I won’t give you is redundancy.*  That, and I promise I won’t say the same thing more than once.

In addition to that, though, I am also making a promise that I will do whatever I can to make this site enjoyable to come to, to check out, to look at, to browse, to peruse, to log onto and click around while–I think you get the idea.

One thing I can not promise (I am never really sure whether it’s better to write “can not” as one word or two.  I still remember in Mrs. Hutchinson’s second grade class, when they changed it up on us and told us that we were to write it as two words, instead of one, as we had been taught up until that point.  Just another example of public school’s inability or unwillingness to make up its mind or take a stand on anything.  So I write it as two words.  Call me stubborn, but if you want me to change, I willnot)

I like tangents.  Know that.  But I get so passionate about a lot (I am never really sure whether it’s better to write “a lot” or…nevermind.  (Never mind?)) of my parentheticals (see also:  previous parenthetical (also see also:  current parenthetical)) that I get completely sidetracked and what begins as a minor tangent will end up completely derailing me from my original point.

Where was I?  Oh yeah - I like tangents.

No.  Before that.  Where was I?  Oh yeah - one thing I can  not promise.  One thing that I cannot…can not…ca  ‘nt…one thing I am not able to promise is that everyone who checks out this site will enjoy it.  Frankly, the only way I could guarantee a 100% approval rate is if I put porn on here, and until my fans get either much  more passionate or much more drugged, I just don’t have the resources to do so.

Not everyone will like this site.  Not everyone will think it is funny.  But, hopefully, in a perfect world, seventeen year-old girls will.  That’s all any of us can really ask for out of life.  Right?  (Faint sound of sirens in background)

Geez - I’m kidding!

(By that I don’t mean that I’m joking - “kidding” is the term I use to describe trying to commit statutory rape with minors)

Listen.  Let’s start over.  This is my opening, welcome-to-the-birth-of-my-new-website blog.  I don’t like the term ‘blog’.  It’s a letter.  A letter to you, the reader.   It’s a thank you, really.  Thank you - in advance - for putting up with all of my crazy ramblings, my random parentheticals, my offensively-inaccurate observations, and the rest of the inevitable transgressions that I commit while running this site.  Thank you for thinking - on some level - that I’m either funny enough or interesting enough to check out this site in the first place.  And thank you - again, in advance - for coming back again and again to check out how both the site has changed, and how me and my mind and my growth as a comic have changed, and how those changes affect what I think of the world.  A performer isn’t truly a performer without an audience, and even if that audience consists of only a single person, that audience allows for the performer to truly feel that he or she is making a difference in the world.  So thanks for reading this, mom.**

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*  I also don’t know what you wish to witness.  Or what you desire to uncover.

**  That’s a joke.  My mother will be too busy entering contests to win free t-shirts on Snapple.com to ever bother visiting this site.  And I really wish that were not true.***

*** Werenot?****

****  Fuckyou, publicschool.