Jon Stewart blue pic

 Jon Stewart Intelligence Agency
    A n   u n o f f i c i a l   f a n   c l u b

We're fighting, apparently, with one of
Xena's web sites. It's a huge battle.

— Jon Stewart on the JSEB




Jane D'oh, A Stalker Story: Confessions of a Kook

WARNING: Everything you are about to read is a fat, fun,
flavorful lie known to cause birth defects. Women who are
or may be pregnant should not handle broken tablets.


Through my overwhelming presence in cyberspace (I'm up to three hits a day!), Jane D'oh found me and offered an account of her past year. Jane is a young college student (she was a little vague on which college) in New York City and was recently convicted of stalking and kidnaping. Her target? Our one and only Jon Stewart. She contacted me several months after she was sentenced to 30 days in jail, 300 hours of community service, and a protective order preventing her from coming within 500 feet of Jon.

Dear Annie,

So it turns out it's illegal to tie Jon Stewart to your piano and cover his naked body with buttercream frosting. I had to find this out the hard way.

Not that I actually ever smeared frosting on Jon -- which is what really throws me. I mean, I only intended to tie him to my piano and smear him with frosting. I never actually did it. The New York Police Department is pretty pissy. And they clamp on the cuffs too tightly in my opinion, but I'll get to that later.

It all started a year ago, last January, 1999. This new Jewish guy was supposed to start hosting The Daily Show after that blond Viking guy left to go annoy people on some old people network somewhere. You really can't trust Vikings, but since Hollywood is full of 'em, you do what you can, right? By the way, I really resent you calling me a gook on the phone. Or did you call me a kook? I can' t remember. You should be really careful, Annie. You might offend someone. I notice you "claim" you're Korean in Amble 1. Good idea -- the minorities are really popular these days -- might as well cash in. I mean, no one actually sees you on the Internet, right? And Korea? What a hoot! I've never even heard of that one! Is that one of them injun tribes somewhere?

Anyway, we all know Jewish guys have lots of money and run the banks, so I figured I'd give this new guy a shot. I thought he'd give some stock tips and give us a heads up on when interest rates might go up. But as it turns out, he wasn't any better at money advice than blondie was, and he seemed to get the news wrong all the time too. I don't know how these newscasts stay on the air.

But this guy, ooh. He had these smoldering green eyes, and he kept smiling at me. My daddy used to tell me that our TV was full of fairies, which I thought was neat. I know they're in there, magically putting the pictures on the screen, giving me a connection to the people they're showing. I could never understand why my dad hated them so much, but I think they're swell. Sometimes I tap on the glass and shout, "Hey fairies! Tell Dan Rather he's hot! Go ahead! Tell him now!" Since they're invisible, I never actually see them do it, but I know they have at least a couple times because Dan has mentioned me personally. He usually says "Fonda" right after he says my name, which I don't understand, but I figure it's some kind of code. Like, "Jane baby, am I fond 'a you!" I hope the fairies fill me in on that one some day.

This new guy though, he knocked Dan out of the water. I drooled every time he came on. He had these flecks of gray at his temples, and I love that. It's sooooo sexy wexy. And those eyes! Hoo wee!

Anyway, I decided to take action. That's the kind of gal I am. I don't just sit around and moan about stuff, I get up, make some homemade buttercream frosting, and get ready to frost, you know? So I looked him up on every telephone directory site on the Internet and started calling. It didn't go too well. Here are my diary entries on that day (and believe you me, it was hell borrowing it back from the evidence locker at the NYPD):

Jon Stewart #1: Hung up after a few minutes.

Jon Stewart #2: Said some very naughty words, hung up after a few minutes.

Jon Stewart #3: Told him I loved him and I wanted to be with him. He burst into tears and kept babbling, "So you'll take me back? You'll really take me back?" Didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Replied, "Of course I will, Jon, I love you." He started crying harder. Then I said, "It doesn't matter to me that you're Jewish - I'll learn how to cook pork so you can eat it just as often as you like out of your yam-licker as you poke at your foreskin on Yop Kimpur." He stopped crying. "Sarah?" he asked. "Yes?" I said sweetly. "Oh *?%@." He hung up.

Jon Stewart #3 (revisited): Called him back. He hung up after a few seconds. Sounded strained, kept mentioning that it wasn't funny.

Jon Stewart #4: Woman answered. I screamed, "Get off the $%^&*@& phone you @#$^^)( @%^!(! You took my man! You took my man! You took my man!" She hung up quite quickly.

Jon Stewart #4 (revisited): Called again. No answer.

Jon Stewart #5: Asked me what I was wearing. I told him I was wearing The Daily Show T-shirt. He asked me if it was tight. I said no, I got a XXX-Large because I wear it to bed. He asked me about my bed. I said it was a Sealy Posturepedic Extra-Firm mattress from Mattress Warehouse. He sighed and hung up.

Jon Stewart #5 (revisited): I asked him if we could try again. He said okay. He asked me what my fantasy was. I said my greatest fantasy was to finally learn the deep, hidden secrets of the television fairies. He paused, said "Oh my God!" and hung up again.

Jon Stewart #5 (revisited): Called again. No answer.

And so on. After a few hours, I realized that the phone was taking too long, and that maybe -- just maybe -- these Jons weren't the same Jon I was looking for. But I figured since I was starting at New York University in February, I would just find him then.

[Editor's Note: When I spoke with Jane again to follow up on this letter, I asked about her enrollment at NYU. She stated "New York University? I thought I said New York College. Whatever -- it was in New York, on . . . New . . . York Street." When I questioned her on why she was starting school in February when the academic semester began in January, she said, "You freakin' Koreans think you're soooo good at math. Well you're not! You're not! Go back to Koreana, you freakin' Korean!" I then asked her what her major was, and she replied, "Butter whipping, you Koreanapolis freak." I chose, at this point, to move to a different topic.]

So I moved into the dorm after I packed my Kitchen Aid mixer (green to match Jon's eyes) and sold my TV. I was going to need the money for handcuffs, butter, and sugar. I would need electricity too, but I figured I could work on that problem later. I found a great first-floor dorm room by Central Park, where I could see the whole park. It was great. Lots of trees.

[Editor's Note: I asked Jane why NYU's dorm was near Central Park when NYU was located in midtown, and she said, "I was as at the other NYU." I then asked how she could see the whole park from the first floor in light of its vast size and the high wall that surrounded much of it, and she said, "I meant the other Central Park." I chose, at this point, to move to a different topic.]

It took me a couple days to find out where Jon worked. I kept looking up "The Daily Show" in the phone book at the pay phone on the corner, but I couldn't even find "The" in the book. I couldn't figure out the problem, especially since the phone book said "QUEENS" on it, and I know that queens are just as helpful as fairies because my daddy told me they were both on TV. I started wandering around with the phone book, pointing at it and asking people if they knew where the magical TV queens lived, but they usually walked away really fast. Selfish bastards. Nowadays, people just don't wanna share their queens. There was once a time when people used to share things, you know?

[Editor's Note: At this point, the letter went into great detail about the magical queens and the deterioration of society in general. My questions as to how she actually managed to find Jon were never answered. The following is an excerpt from the court transcript. I insert this here to help clarify things.]

Jane: Owner of a lonely heart!

Defense Attorney: Ms. D'oh, could you please explain to the jury how you found Mr. Stewart's workplace?

Jane: Once . . . twice . . . three times a lady . . . .

Prosecutor: Objection. Non-responsive.

Judge: Sustained. Please answer the question, Ms. D'oh.

Jane: This is what it sounds like when the doves cry.

Judge: Ms. D'oh, I'm warning you.

Jane: I found a queen! I found a real queen! She was so beautiful, taller than human women. I wanted to know about the magical queens. She took my hand, caressed it, and said, "Honey, Jon Stewart is on TV." I asked her if she was a fairy queen, and she said yes! Her hands were so big, they covered mine. They were hairy too. I cried at her touch. She told me to get another phone book and look up Comedy Central. I begged her to introduce me to the other queens, but she said I wasn't ready. Then she patted my head and told me I was cute. I am blessed!

Defense Attorney: Did you, in fact, find the studio?

Jane: Yes! It was so beautiful! Jon lived there!

Defense Attorney: Did you go in?

Jane: No. I never tried to go in. I don't like Jon. He's dumb. I don't know why we're here. I'm a college student at the other NYU. I'm innocent. [Inarticulate gargling noises.] The buttercream wasn't whipped enough, it wasn't ready! JON I LOVE YOU!!! I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABY!!!

Defense Attorney: Sh*t.

Judge: Counsel?

Defense Attorney: Sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t.

Judge: Counsel!

Defense Attorney: No, uh, further questions.

Prosecutor: You went into the studio, didn't you?

Jane: Everybody have fun tonight!

Prosecutor: You, in fact, maced the security guards and tried to stab one with the pointed end of a detached beater off a Kitchen Aid mixer, correct?

Jane: Everybody Wang Chung tonight!

Prosecutor: Didn't you then take the elevator up to The Daily Show studio, and demand to see Jon Stewart?

Jane: When the moon hits your eyes like a big . . .

Prosecutor: And when they didn't, that's when you started screaming, isn't it?

Jane: All I want . . .

Prosecutor: You threatened to kill the receptionist, didn't you? You threatened to kill Vance De Generes, didn't you? You at one point declared you held for ransom one testicle from Stephen Colbert, didn't you?

Jane: All I really really want . . .

Prosecutor: And then, Jon came out to see what the commotion was, and you pulled out both beaters and rushed him, didn't you?

Jane: All I really really really really really really want . . .

Prosecutor: You struck him in the head with a pencil holder and knocked him unconscious, then tied his hands behind his back with mouse cords you pulled from the computers, didn't you?

Jane: His hands were really soft.

Defense Attorney: Sh*t sh*t sh*t.

Prosecutor: You dragged him out of the building, hailed a cab, and took him back to your apartment, correct?

Jane: He made little squeally sounds when we went over bumps. It was really cute.

Defense Attorney: [Muttering] I could still go to med school.

Prosecutor: You managed to get him cuffed to your Playskool piano, correct?

Jane: Mmmmmm.

Prosecutor: You then put the beaters into your mixer and started beating butter, correct?

Jane: With sugar. Don't forget the sugar.

Defense Attorney: Maybe take some MCAT classes. Brush up on chem.

Prosecutor: And that's when the police arrived?

Jane: Jon who?

[The following is Mr. Stewart's account of the incident. This testimony preceded that of Jane's. I insert this here to clarify Jane's vague description.]

Prosecutor: Tell us what happened when you got to Ms. D'oh's apartment.

Mr. Stewart: I . . . I was terrified. All I could see was darkness. I was dizzy. I could hear this whirring sound. I didn't know what it was. Then there was this blinding light when that crazy lady ripped off my blindfold. I could then see the whirring sound was a mixer. The beaters were beating to the beat of some mechanical god. First is was slow, then it got faster, faster, faster, FASTER, FASTER!!! OH GOD WHY WON'T SHE STOP BEATING THE BUTTER!!!

Prosecutor: I know this is difficult . . . but what else happened?

Mr. Stewart: She kept waving this long cake froster at me. She was dancing around, seductively I think, and pointing this froster at me. She kept saying that she had harnessed the power of the fairy queens and that nothing could stop her now.

Prosecutor: What was your position?

Mr. Stewart: I was lying on the floor and my hands were cuffed to this little piano, the kind Schroeder used on Peanuts. For some reason there were mice next to me. The kind you use on computers.

Prosecutor: Could you move?

Mr. Stewart: I suppose I could have. The piano wasn't going to keep me down . . . but she had that cake froster and it looked awfully sharp. I couldn't tell if the door was locked either.

Prosecutor: Did Ms. D'oh say anything else to you?

Mr. Stewart: Oh yes . . . she pointed at me with both hands, one holding the cake froster and said, "Get nekked! Get nekked! Get nekked!"

Prosecutor: Did you, um . . . get . . . nekked?

Mr. Stewart: No. I was handcuffed, and I didn't feel like cooperating.

Prosecutor: What happened next?

Mr. Stewart: She . . . she . . . she started walking towards me, and just as she started to reach down, the door burst open and the police barged in. I was never so relieved in all my life.

[Letter continues]

Anyway, there's a point where the butter reaches this light consistency. It gets all frothy, sort of, you know? That's when you start adding the sugar. Once the sugar was in, I was ready to get Jon's clothes off. He looked really excited, but I never actually got to that point because the police stopped by to talk to Jon for a while. I figured Jon hadn't been paying his parking tickets or something, but no! It turns out they wanted me! Me! Jane D'oh! Friend of the fairy queens! I was so mortified.

As it turns out, it's illegal to tie Jon Stewart to your piano and smear buttercream frosting all over his naked body! Why won't the government get off our backs?! This is a free country! Maybe in Russia you can't smear frosting all over Jon Stewart, but here in the good old US of A, I demand my rights! Bloody communists.

So there was some sort of trial, and I had to go this jail. I kept asking for fairy queens, but everyone told me they weren't there, that I was in the wrong place. Just great.

Anyway, it's been a little while now, and I hope Jon has gotten over my dumping him. There's this other guy I've got my eye on. His name is Russell Crowe. He's a gladiator! I think we got married a few months ago. Yes, yes, yes . . . I'm sure we did. I'll have to move to Australia to be with him soon. I think I'll transfer to Australia University. I'll let you know how things go with him. He's a hottie, and he knows how to handle a sword, if you get my drift.

Jane D'oh Crowe

Well. I hope that you have learned something from Jane's experiences. I publish this letter with the hope that you young men and women out there don't make the same tragic mistakes that Jane did. For instance, when you're stalking Jon, always wear a disguise, and for heaven's sake, light whipped cream is much healthier than buttercream frosting. I hope this changes your life.

July 25, 2000

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