Shocker: Letterman's blackmailer (D-bag) has a history of being a sleazy toolbox

Robert "Joe" Halderman's the guy that's accused of trying to blackmail comedian and talk-show host David Letterman out of $2 million over some inter-office relationships that the host engaged in.  And now that he's been arrested, the blackmailer's ironic personal history is coming to light.  Oh, how satisfying this all is.  The Comedy Examiner investigates here; read on, my precious snowflakes...

The big news today concerns David Letterman's blackmailer, some guy who was a producer for "48 Hours" that attempted to get 2 million bucks out of the "Late Show" host by threatening to write a screenplay and go to the press with stories of the comedian's relationships with women working in his office.  And-- you're never gonna believe this-- turns out the dude's pretty sleazy, himself.

The internet's bloggers and commenters seem torn on their opinion of Letterman following the revelation-- but, for the record, it has been released that these relationships occurred prior to his current marriage-- but with details emerging on Halderman, it'll be interesting to see how this changes the debate, if at all.

The Daily Beast is running an article that's filled with information about the blackmailer, including quotes from CBS' Dan Rather and comments from  Halderman's working associates and past acquaintances.  Here are a few choice cuts from the article, in case you're not interested in pouring through the whole thing yourself:

Ironically, given his blackmail threat to Letterman, Halderman carried on extramarital romances both in the office and on the road, colleagues say, and didn’t do much to hide them. He liked to drink, colleagues say, and would occasionally get obstreperous. Once, years ago, Halderman “came stumbling into work in bandages and stitches,” a colleague told me, explaining that a bouncer had shoved him through a plate-glass window at an Upper East Side singles bar.

Wuh-oh. That doesn't sound too good.  Odd, then, that Halderman would target someone else for something he seems widely known for doing himself.  But since when was hipocrisy a reason not to do something illegal?
Hey, Dan Rather, does any of this strike you as odd?

This is obviously a tragedy,” Rather said. “Frankly, I couldn’t be more astonished that this guy was involved in something like this than if you came riding through my apartment on a hippopotamus.

Another colleague had this description of Halderman for the Daily Beast:

He was a very colorful guy—I’d label him a charming rogue,” said a colleague who worked with Halderman off and on over the past 25 years. “He was like a character out of Hemingway, or maybe like the Great Gatsby, without the nuance and mystery…He was famous for carrying on workplace affairs, bouncing from woman to woman.

His girlfriend dumped him a few weeks ago and his ex-wife took his kids out to Colorado in the last few months,” one of Halderman’s colleagues told me. “He lost his kids, he lost his girlfriend, and maybe he lost his mind.

 Several other websites are reporting that Halderman was paying over $6,000 per month in child support from a previous marriage that had fallen through due to his extracurricular romantic activities.  His breakup with Stephanie Burkitt-- the woman at the center of all this, who is said to have been involved with Letterman about 5 years ago-- is being speculated upon as the reason that Halderman may have made his bizarre attempt at blackmailing Dave.

So, whatta you guys think?  Surprising, or not?  Knowing that Dave's relationship with this woman-- and, according to a statement issued by Worldwide Pants, Letterman's production company, any other women-- happened prior to his marriage, does it change your opinion of the situation?  A poll over on the "Larry King Live" website found that roughly 75% of people didn't think negatively of Dave in the aftermath of this situation...but what do you think?  Sound off below, folks.

Oh, and by the way: If you're reading this because you were directed here from the Examiner, feel free to check out some of the other non-Examiner articles on this site.  If you're reading this without having visited the Examiner, then check out this page.  You'll find roughly 200 articles that I've written for that site over the past couple months: many of them are decent.  What are you waiting for?  Get over there!

Oh, what the hell is this, now...? Japan's at it again.

Just came across the following video online.  After my "What the f--- is wrong with Japanese people?" post the other day, I thought this was a relevant followup.  Before we go on, check this out:

Riiiight, Japan.  Magic piano, check.  Cross-eyed chick with a fishbowl, check.  Yep, all the parts are in place for another inexplicable video offering from our friendly neighbors to the East.  I could put this video in context for you, but what the hell kinda fun would that be?  Just take it for what it is and try not to cry yourself to sleep tonight.

You know, this could be the beginning of a NGFH trend: screwed up videos from Japan.  I'll try to avoid the game show stuff-- it's really just so obvious; every Japanese game show is horrifically bizarre.

Oh, and I finally figured out how to embed YouTube stuff without it spreading all over the sidebar.  This is a learning experience, guys.  Gimme a break while I'm figuring it all out.  And, while you're here, stop by my page over at the Examiner: I've got a poll up about this David Letterman thing that asks if he's a sleazebag or not.  Me, I think we oughtta leave the cat alone.  But it looks like the commenters might not be so lenient.  Check it out at this link now. 

Inside the Home Office of Comedy Examiner/NiceGuyForHire writer Scott W.

I thought some of you might want a look at my "home office".  This is where I sit and pound mug after mug of coffee and ingest enough horse tranquilizers to make reporting on ridiculous crap like "Jon and Kate + 8" for the Examiner bearable.

As you can see, I've covered the walls with all manner of wacky shenanigans to look at when I'm stuck on a punchline or something worth saying.  On the left hand side, you can just make out the edge of my "Zombies" poster, which helpfully lists what sort of zombies you can expect to encounter once the Zombie Apocalypse starts (this month: British Zombie; I haven't bothered reading how to tell them apart from the other zombies, but I'm guessing that you don't start with the quality of their teeth).  Next to that's a pair of handcuffs ("That's for...that's for something else"), a fake set of Wolverine claws made of actual steel and a set of brass knuckles (a gift from Dr. David Hansen); on the right hand side, you can make out a bunch of fliers from all the shows I've performed on, plus some random other pictures.  Dead center's my 20" monitor and formerly infected computer.  It's interesting to note that the rest of the walls in my place are bare: I put everything worth looking at around the computer.  The idea was to inspire creativity.  I'll let you judge as to whether or not that worked.

Anyway, this is the environment that I'm pumping this crap out from.  That might explain a thing or two.  Really, I just wanted to try out my iPhone's photo-taking abilities, as I realized I'd never bothered to use it to get pics of something to add to an article.  This was just where I was sitting when the idea came to me.  Be thankful it didn't occur to me while in the john.

While you're here, make sure to check out some of the past NGFH articles, helpfully located directly below this one or catalogued on the right-hand side of the page.  You can also head over to the Examiner and check out some of the 200 articles that I have over there.  Current article's about Jon Gosselin's appearance on "Larry King Live"; there was a fierce debate about all that raging in the comments section of the article, so I added a poll where you can vote for Jon Gosselin being the d-uchebag that he is.  Check it all out, folks.

Jerry Seinfeld: "What is the deal with these celebrities not wearing underwear? Do they think we won't look?"

Jerry Seinfeld didn't actually say that, but whenever you say the phrase "What is the deal with...", you're kind of obligated to say it in Jerry's voice.  For example, "What is the deal with Kramer being a slave owner?" or "What is the deal with Costanza doing KFC commercials even though he's getting residual checks from my show?" or "What is the deal with Julia Louis Dreyfus being hot all of a sudden?"

You know, like that.

NiceGuyForHire wants to bring you all the entertainment bullsh-t that it can, delivered in as snarky a manner as possible, and as such we believe that every time a celebrity forgets to wear underwear...we will be there.  Kinda like "The Sun", only much, much more sleazy.  Obviously, this content won't be for anyone, but for those of us that find it funny that celebrities could be this dense, it should make for a good read every now and then.

And so it is that we bring you the first entry of this type, as Rihanna, the Tina Turner to Chris Brown's Ike (oh, gimme a break: she lost my sympathy the moment she ignored the judge's restraining order and kept seeing the dude; whether or not that's still going on is up for debate, but that fact that she continued to date this dude after he whooped up on her before the Grammy's isn't), went strolling around out on the town minus an important article of clothing.

Because this isn't for titillation purposes, we're not gonna blow up the photo into extreme closeup.  If you want that, there's plenty of other sites that can do it for you.  Not to mention, if you're just really desperate to see a naked lady, there are more focused ways of going about this online, people.  The point here is stupidity, and there it is, in all its glory.

If I ever get really famous, I'm gonna make sure I always have my boxers on, especially when I'm wearing a see-through skirt.  Those camera flashes go right through my favorite outfits, so I'm gonna have to remember to be careful.  Although, maybe it wouldn't hurt to show off a little "neck" from time to time.

Whatta ya'll think?  Stupid, or is this an invasion of privacy?  You be the judge!  Now that we've established that this is the sort of thing that NiceGuyForHire will run, we can only hope that Steve Buscemi or Whoopi Goldberg forget "they draws" sometime soon.

"The Human Centipede": One of the most messed up ideas for a movie we've ever seen

Here's an article that I definitely couldn't run over at the Examiner, based solely on the nature of the subject matter.  There's a new horror film coming out soon, and lately it's been making the rounds at some film festivals and private showings around the country.  It's called "The Human Centipede: First Sequence", and it's gotta be one of the most twisted, horrific concepts ever used for a horror film.  If you think you can stomach it, read on, my precious snowflakes...

Okay, first off, look at that picture.  That's the poster for "The Human Centipede", which is an upcoming horror film that's got one of the sickest storylines I think I've ever heard from a horror film.  If you're still digesting your breakfast (and, oh, how that sentence will be even more disturbing in just a few paragraphs' time), you may wanna skip this post and head on down to the Letterman article.

Here's the basic concept: there's a mad scientist whose specialty is separating Siamese Twins.  The dude's basically gone crazy, and one day he decides that he wants to "change it up a bit" as far as work goes (that's him in the sunglasses on the poster).  In a plot that the poster tells us is "100% medically accurate" (which this writer has doubts about), the doctor kidnaps a trio of folks and then (here we go, are you ready?  Still not too late to turn back!  Don't say I didn't warn ye...) surgically connects them all together, a$$ to mouth, so that they all share one digestive tract.

I know, you're horrified.  And you're like, "What the f--- are we even talking about this for?"  Well, sir or ma'am, I told you it was gonna get all freaky up in this b-tch.  Remember what I said about not saying I didn't warn you?  Ya, well, there ya go.  Let's get back to the article.

So, the scientist has a Japanese dude and two American party-girl types that he happens to come across.  Much of the film depicts the three sewn together, trying to escape or otherwise stop what's going on.  There are apparently scenes that deal with precisely what you'd expect a film like this to deal with, making me wonder how the hell this thing is ever going to get the go-ahead from the MPAA.  Those people are nutsy about turning down stuff for being "too extreme", like boobies.  Exploding people?  No problem, "Saving Private Ryan".  Boobies? WHAT ARE YOU, A PERVERT?!

Here's a little, one-minute montage of scenes from the film.  There's no dialogue here, though there is a bit of blood, and what you're gonna see here may disturb you.  So, if you're not into horror films to begin with (As I am; whether or not I'm "into" this monkey business has yet to be determined), you may wanna just take my original advice and skip on down to that Letterman article, slappy.  Check it out:




Okay, yeah, that's pretty f----d up.

The early word on the film is surprisingly strong.  Devin Faraci of CHUD gave the film a solid review, and he's a critic that my tastes generally fall in line with.  He points out that this movie falls into the category of "body horror" films, the kinda stuff that Cronenberg has been doing for years (if you've seen, say, "ExistenZ" or "Videodrome"-- which is NOT to be confused with "Biodome"-- then you know what we're talking about here; "The Fly" also fell into this category, which basically makes extreme body modifications and mutilation its source for scariness).  I'm still skeptical, because any film that seems to coast along on the outrageousness of its premise almost always turns out to be an empty suit of a movie, but I'll probably be willing to give the thing a shot.

So, whatta you guys think?  Is this the most f----d up premise for a movie you've ever heard?  Would ya watch it?  Were you able to keep your breakfast down?  Let us know with a comment below.  And, while you're here, don't forget that you can find a bunch of other articles of mine over at the Examiner, where I'm the resident "Comedy Examiner".  Ah, NGFH, thank you for allowing me to write about something this jacked up this early in the day.

Attempted Letterman blackmailer a total D-bag, gets owned by Dave

"The Late Show" host David Letterman sounds like he's had a rough week: he just finished delivering some d-uchebag that was trying to blackmail him to the cops.  Letterman talked openly about the situation on his show Thursday night, and here's what he had to say.  Read on, gentle Examiner readers...

This guy that was trying to blackmail David Letterman doesn't sound like the sharpest knife in the drawer.  What Would Tyler Durden Do?, the entertainment gossip and snarky commentary site, is running a story that claims the blackmailer (if that's a real word; until this coffee kicks in, I remain unsure) is/was the ex-boyfriend of one of Letterman's staffers, whom he was sleeping with.

You mean to tell me that one of the most powerful men in the comedy entertainment world was getting laid?  By someone that he worked with?  Why, that's just shocking.  Apparently, anyone who'd be surprised by this is unfamiliar with how the entertainment industry works: if you are being watched by millions of other people, you're probably gonna get laid.  Hell, if you're being watched by dozens of people, you're probably gonna get laid.  Like athletes or movie stars, late night talk show hosts also get action because they are famous.  That this was going on with someone that worked for Dave just seems even more obvious.  If ya had to guess where Dave meets women, would your first guess be "at a nightclub"?

Anyway, the guy tried to extort $2m from Dave, only to be ensnared by a very clever and complicated plot by Dave and his lawyer: they wrote him a fake check and called the cops.  That's straight gangsta of you, Dave.  Frankly, this writer is happy for Dave having beaten this guy at his own game.  If it's true that this dude is the ex-boyfriend of one of the women Dave was sleeping with, his motive beyond money is obvious here: immature jealousy.  Where did it get him?  Owned.

What's even better is, Dave wrapped up "The Case of the Blackmailing D-uchebag" and then turned right around and talked about it on the air, effectively outing himself of the "crimes".  Here's Dave talking about it on "The Late Show" last night (and, by the way, sorry about the size on this video file; it's covering up vital parts of that Jenna Fischer picture, I know):



As the years go by, this writer just has more and more respect for Letterman as an entertainer and a person.  He always seem to handle these sorts of "off the air" storms with alot of dignity, and he's never afraid to confront his issues on the air.  More power to ya, Dave. I hope the dude-- who, in what has to be the most bizarre part of this entire situation, was threatening not only to tell people what Dave was up to but also to "write a screenplay" about it (Bwahahaha! Don't you know that Hollywood only makes remakes of bad TV shows these days, blackmailer?  All together now: Haha, blackmailer, you suck)-- ends up behind bars for quite some time.  God, talk about a plan backfiring.  That guy must be loving that New York City jail right about now.  What awesome pwnage.

Whatta you think, NGFH readers?  Did Dave do the right thing?  Should he have given over the money, kicked the guy's ass, or was he right to go to the cops?  What should happen to the dude that tried to blackmail Dave?  And, if it's important to you, was Dave wrong to be knockin' boots with his staff members?  Sound off below, we wanna hear what you have to say.

By the way, you may have found this page through the Examiner, where I write as their "Comedy Examiner".  Obviously, we're running some of the same articles over here (same author, after all), but you can find all of the Examiner articles I've written by following this link.  Those articles are gonna be a little more news-oriented than the stuff that I plan on running here, so you can decide which site is providing the sort of writing you're more into.

The Guy Who Terrorized Me & My Pops at WalMart

This is a true story about some ridiculously strange Wal-Mart employee that my Dad and I ran afoul of recently.  It originally ran over on the Examiner, so this may be a repeat for you.  If so, skip below where we've got several new, non-Examiner stories.  If not, read on.  Everything here is absolutely true, by the way. Also, that dude in the picture?  That's not him.  That's from PeopleofWalMart.com, which-- if you haven't already experienced the magic there-- you should check out promptly.  After reading, of course.

Today, I have come to tell you about the "Wal-Mart Mystery Man", whom I encountered on a trip into a local Wal-Mart with my father just last night.  Having come in from out of town, my pops and I went to dinner, had a drink, and sat around shooting the sh-t for some time.  On the way home, he accompanied me on a grocery run at the nearby Wal-Mart in Addison, and that's when we found ourselves in the middle of the strangest encounter I've had in some time.

We were walking along, talking, and approaching a check-out lane with a basketful of items procured at rock-bottom prices.  The clerk working the register saw us coming, and I noted the odd way his eyes seemed to light up at our approach.  It was as though his entire life up until this moment had been spent training to ring up groceries, and here we were: his first customers, tossed by fate into his path to test his skills.  Kinda like when the kid has to fight that sabertooth tiger in "300", only with paper towels and a barcode scanner.

"Hey, there!" he called to us, though we were just feet away.

"Hey," my dad said back.  Then, turning to me, he said, "I'm gonna go use the bathroom", and off he went to take a leak.

I was left alone with (for the purposes of this story, we'll call him) "Sergio".  He wore the typical Wal-Mart "Vest of Doom" overtop a button down shirt that was not living up to the promise of its name: the shirt was open at the collar, revealing far too much of a swarthy patch of chest and-- I believe-- several delicate gold chains.  Sergio's appearance certainly explained why the "A-Team" van was parked out in the parking lot.  As my dad walked off in the direction of the john, he came around the counter towards the cart.

I'd already started putting the items up onto the conveyor belt that moves towards the cash register, but Sergio hadn't turned it on.  Once he'd sidled up next to the cart-- barcode gun in hand-- he told me, "I'm just gonna get your big items."

"Oh," I said, remembering the large case of paper towels underneath the cart.  I moved to pull them out for him to scan, but he bent down quickly and beat me to it, saying, "I got it."

"Take it away, man," I said, and continued putting my groceries-- and I should note that the cart was full-- up onto the belt.  Because it wasn't, y'know, moving they were starting to stack up.  I was running out of room.
Sergio reached into the cart while I worked, picking up and scanning a bottle of bleach and a jug of laundry soap.

"Oh, dude, that's alright," I started saying. "I'll put 'em up there for ya."

"Oh, no," he said, grinning conspiratorialy. "When you're in my lane, I hook you up."

I stood there, unsure of how to proceed.  I already had about 75% of the groceries up on the belt, but he was ignoring them and just scanning random objects that were still in the cart.  Surely this wasn't how he planned on ringing all of it in-- was it?

"Hey," I tried again, "Really, I got th--"

He cut me off, again grinning and murmuring, "Take it easy, man, I got this."

Uncertainty had turned into outright confusion.  People began to arrive behind me, each of them with their own large cart's worth of groceries, and a glance in the woman behind me's direction revealed that she was just as confused about Sergio's mysterious check-out routine as I was.  It was at this point that my dad came wandering back over from the bathroom.  As it happened, I needed to go myself-- thanks, 90 oz. glass of iced tea-- but I felt compelled to warn him before I left.

He was already looking at Sergio's progress, head tilted a bit to the side like a dog hearing a far away noise.

"I know," I said, before he said a word. "It's weird.  Don't bother, I've already tried twice.  Be right back."

I went to the john, and when I came back, it was obvious that my dad had just gone through the same confusing conversation with Wal-Mart's most esteemed cashier.  He was standing off to the side, body language conveying one, clear emotion: "Unsure What to Do With Oneself".  Behind us in line, people were just staring.

My dad and I exchanged a glance and a shrug.  Sergio had now worked his way up onto the belt, and was methodically going through each item with the barcode-scanner.  I knew at this point that there'd be no convincing him to stop this madness, but when I realized that more than 5 minutes had passed, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"Wouldn't it be, like, much faster to just do it the normal way?"

My dad burst out laughing, but Sergio just kept on at his incredibly slow pace.  He said, "I have a checkout time of 17 items per minute; I think I know what I'm doing."

Confusion was a distant dream at that point.  Now we were in some parallel universe: up was down, black was white, groceries were being rung in at the rate of one every three and a half seconds.  He wasn't even bagging them, just picking them up one at a time, hitting the trigger on the gun, putting them back down on the belt, and then moving on to the next item.  It was excruciating to witness, like watching someone eat a bucket of popcorn one kernel at a time.  Underwater.

"Whatta you think Sam Walton would have to say about your, uh, checkout process?" my dad asked.  Sam Walton, of course, is the walking think-tank that came up with the idea for Wal-Mart.  He's who you oughtta be praying to every time you get slapped in the face by UNBEATABLE PRICES when you walk past that ancient greeter out front and find yourself purchasing 18 spatulas for $10, because do you have any idea what these things cost apiece?!  You'd be crazy not to buy 18 spatulas at that price! Why, you might never have to buy a spatula again, just because you made one, $10 investment!  Sam Walton, you are a God.

Without missing a beat-- and I swear this is true-- Sergio replied: "Sam Walton's dead."  And, as we all know, zombies have very little interest in anyone's barcode scanner strategy.  All they care about is brains and farmhouses full of survivors.  "F-ck unbeatable prices," says Zombie Sam Walton.

I was standing there, dumbfounded.  People behind us in line were making an exodus to any other lane available, even if it meant going to the one way down on the end where they stick the cashier with the 7" fingernails and the pink weave.  Perhaps ten minutes passed before Sergio began the arduous process of putting my groceries into bags, a process that I feared he would attempt alphabetically.

It was as though time had stood still in Lane 7 inside the Addison Wal-Mart, the rest of the world whizzing by, going about their business, making moves and getting sh-t done.  Sergio picked up a pound of coffee, and underneath us, vast tectonic plates were shifting and colliding, forming underwater ridges and causing volcanic eruptions in distant locales.  Species were thriving, dying off, new ones being introduced to the environment at large.  Overhead, whole galaxies were being born, stars burning out, civilizations being created and killing themselves off.  Whole generations of lives came and went, and then Sergio placed the coffee into a plastic bag.  I could feel the life draining out of me.

Eventually, he finished.  By this time, my father and I were speechless.  We weren't sure what had just happened to us, but we knew that it was remarkable.  My father and I have been through alot together over the years, but perhaps in the end it will emerge that no situation brought us closer together, bonded us more, than the time Sergio rang in our groceries at Wal-Mart.

Have you got a funny true story you'd like to spend in inordinate amount of time typing out for others to read and shrug at?  If so, send an email with the details to me.  We may run it on the site, fully credited to you, if it sounds worthwhile.