Welcome to Overanalysis Theater
I'll be your host this evening. I hope that's ok with you. Maybe you'd like a different host. One with a deeper voice? Or maybe you'd rather not be at this theater. Maybe you wanted to be on Broadway, but you got turned around and ended up here. I hope you aren't disappointed. I'd offer you drinks, but I'm afraid that might seem like I'm coming on a bit strong. I don't want to come on too strong when you just got here. I'd hate for you to leave. Then again if you left,I wouldn't have to put on this performance. Maybe it'd be better for both of us if you left. Then I'd miss out on an opportunity to really give a sensational performance, the kind of performance that could make me famous and you stand up and cheer. Of course I could also flop. I could end up miserable and alone. Maybe that's what you want. It probably is. That's why you're frowning. It isn't possible that you're frowning for some other reason. It most certainly must be a sinister desire to see me fail. Why, I bet you came here just to see me fail. You'll be 7.5 times as likely to be happy if I fall flat on my face. That's what you want isn't it? I should stop talking to you all together. Or maybe it's not like that at all. Maybe your frown is just a figment of my overactive imagination. Maybe it's a smile and I'm just too dense to recognize it. Or it's a smile and my brain is failing to invert your head. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. The voices. The whispers. The madness is closing in like a curtain. It's the curtain call at Overanalysis Theater. I hope you enjoyed the show. I hope it wasn't too long or too short or it left you appropriately adequately satisfied, if that's what you wanted, I mean.