Before I begin today's show, I would just like to congratulate the writer's guild of America

for securing an excellent new contract. Now that the writer's strike is over, I'd like to welcome

my imaginary team of imaginary writers back to my imaginary writer's room. To be honest,

without my writers, I felt as flat and uninspired as Stephen Colbert with his writers.

So I'd also like to congratulate Stephen on having his 19 real writers back so they can come

up with such wild and original ideas as comparing Donald Trump to Hitler and Herpes.

Because if that's not comedy, then comedy is comedy, which is just confusing.

But it's great to have my imaginary writers back. So let me introduce them.

There's Lola Vavum, the shapely and ambitious creative who writes all my female sword fighting

scenes between such bouts of stealing realism. She enjoys wiggling her way to the snack table

in her spandex leggings to fetch me a cup of coffee so she can linger behind me while I drink it,

giving me a gentle shoulder massage and explaining once again

to what my wife doesn't know won't hurt her, which isn't strictly true since my wife doesn't know

how to use the chairlift and keeps falling downstairs. But hey, this is my imagination so I get whatever

imaginary writers I want. There's also Vivek Swami Mami from India who can't speak English,

but at least he has darkest skin so we can pretend to have filled our hiring quota for black

writers without actually hiring any black writers. Thus we strike a blow against the dreadful systemic

American racism revealed by the fact that George Floyd died of a fentanyl overdose while resisting

arrest, which was a terrible act of racist police brutality because this is all imaginary.

And finally, there's Joe Stern, the neurotic little Jewish guy who completely rewrites all our

episodes so no one finds out our women and minority hires have no talent. After which Joe Stern

goes home to smoke dope and watch porn all night while posting on X about how social conservatives

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