Will Ferrell might be here to kill you.

“The alternative,” he’ll explain, “is that you do something funny.”

Cast about; don’t make this complicated. Grab the first thing on the table of your mind. Don’t let yourself speculate, don’t picture yourself as a king’s fool forced to–

Will Ferrell should apply electricity to your genitals. Scream.

“Humor is pain wedded to aesthetic distance,” he’ll say, over you. “Distance is trivially achieved, but what of suffering?”

Sob the joke about Kermit’s finger. You know the one.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Will Ferrell will sigh, and enforce on your body an artist’s discipline.