Now that you're a serious writer, are you going to write for serious publications, like the Shouts & Murmurs page in The New Yorker?
I think it's very, very unlikely that the Shouts & Murmurs page would have me. Anybody who writes an essay entitled "Why I Used a Day-Glo Magic Marker to Color My Dick Yellow" is not going to be invited to participate in The New Yorker.

Do they have something against dick essays?
Well, there's already an essay in The New Yorker called "Why I Used a Day-Glo Magic Marker to Color My Dick Yellow." Woody Allen wrote it. I just copied it, word for word. In retrospect I probably should have given him credit for it.

So…how's your rash?
I'm on the mend.

Is it weird that I asked?
No, because I definitely wrote about it, and pretty much anybody can read it. But a lot of what I write isn't true. That just happened to be true.

Are you more of an exhibitionist now that you have a blog?
I've never really been an exhibitionist. But I've always been interested in combining true and not true things, or blending the two and creating a mythology. To me that's always been very interesting as a performer.

Your book sort of creates its own mythology.
There are a few thematic ideas in there. Including, most notably, the fudge cabinet.

Are you an enormous fan of fudge?
No! See, that's one of the things that's not true. I don't like fudge at all. If there's fudge on the counter I'll pass it right on by.

My mom has a recipe that will blow your mind all over your face. It's so much better than whatever crap you've been eating.
You have to send it to me.

You've worked on films, TV, live shows, and now a book. Is there any form of media you're not interested in conquering?
I'm not that interested in video installation, specifically. I won't be doing a video installation at the Guggenheim anytime soon. I might do one for the Whitney. But they're a much more, I think, cutting edge museum. I would do a video installation for the Whitney, but I absolutely wash my hands of the Guggenheim.

What if the Metropolitan Opera asked you to write a libretto?
I would have to consider that very seriously. Because I do have some excellent ideas for operas.

Sounds like you're open to new projects. Maybe you should advertise on Craigslist.
"Will create for pennies."

More than pennies, right? Your book has a price tag of $23.95.
But on a per-page basis that's very inexpensive. It's basically 50 cents an essay. If you went to a bar and ordered buffalo wings, you'd be paying 50 cents for buffalo wings. So you're done with that in two minutes, and it's gone forever. But these essays, they stay with you.

They're all of a similar length. Why is that?
When I first started writing these essays, I was writing for McSweeney's, and they have, like, a 500 word guideline, and I got used to that form. Then I started writing a bit longer [essays]. Comedically, I'm pretty much saying everything I need to say in about 1,500 words. After that, I feel like the idea is kind of exhausted. But I'd like to start writing some longer things. I mean, there are writers out there who write more than 1,500 words. Most of those writers are hacks—Tolstoy, for instance. But I feel like the next time out I'll probably write a few more words.

Are you still writing for McSweeney's, or are they totally lame?
I've just been busy writing my own things. Actually, the one in the book called "An Application to Harvard," which is written by somebody with no chance of getting in, was written for McSweeney's. But they didn't want to publish it because they didn't want to have something that made fun of the conflict in Darfur. [Dave Eggers wrote a book, What is the What, about the lost boys of Sudan.] I didn't realize when I wrote that. Dave Eggers wrote me a nice email saying, "This is very funny, but I can't print this." And I understand. But that's one of my favorite things in the book. I think it's really funny.

It's funny because it's about Darfur.
It's funny because it's so fake. It's so clearly a ploy. He has no interest in Darfur, and I think the transparency of that is very funny. And at the end he says—in case the Darfur stuff didn't get them—"And global warming is a terrible thing."

Are there recurring characters in your essays?
I'm always inclined to root for the stupid guy, and to me that narrator is the stupid guy. Other characters in the book are aggressively masculine, which I also find really funny. Like the custom van guy, the taco party guy, the guy who wants to party it up in Vegas. But there's also the very sensitive guy, who I sort of equate with a 13-year-old girl. I have a pretty limited palette of colors. But the colors I do have, I like a lot.

Do you laugh at these essays when you read them?
Once in a while, if something surprises me, I'll laugh.

In the past couple of months, you've started feuds with David Sedaris and Tucker Max. Is there anyone else you might seek to destroy in the future?
I can't just rip into people randomly.

What about Madonna?
No way. I wouldn't want to get too close to her vagina dentata.

Do you want to talk shit about Simon Pegg and how he got a screenwriting credit on your movie [Run Fat Boy Run] just for changing the location to London?
Well, Simon Pegg definitely contributed a fair amount to that screenplay. But he wouldn't know me from Adam. He lives in a different country—he's very famous over there—and whenever he sees me, it takes him a solid half hour to recognize me.

Would your comedy be different if you weren't so dang attractive? Or, alternately, if this is a low self-esteem day for you, would your comedy be different if you weren't so dang ugly?
I don't think I'm particularly ugly or particularly attractive. I'm in the middle. Black comedians tend to be better looking than white comedians. That's sort of expected in their community, for some reason. But in my community, I'm expected to look fat and be greasy and smell terrible. I don't want to have to start going to the gym so I can look like Jamie Foxx. I don't need that kind of pressure.

What is the essence of Michael Ian Black?
Joy.

Are you spreading the joy?
All I'm trying to do is make the world a slightly better place. Not even a slightly better place—I try to make the world a considerably better place. And I think I'm succeeding every day, in every way.

Have you ever eaten a baby?
No comment.

Since you're giving an interview to the Hipster Book Club: are you a hipster?
I don't think I'm a hipster at all. You know, I live in the suburbs. I'm sort of anti-hipster. Which, in its own way, is incredibly hipster.

(August, 2008)

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