Steve Martin, Plagiarist?

Ladies and Gentleman, Steve Martin stole my act.
It's true.

When I precocious young kid, barely out of the toddler stage, I went to Disneyland and there I witnessed a tragic young man engrossed in a pathetic attempt at making the funny.

I coached the sad young fella on how to be humorous and that my friends is when he did it, Steve Martin stole my entire act, the white suit, the baloons, the arrow through the head, even the banjo playing. Now, a few decades later he's getting rich making really bad movies and I'm still struggling to make a new start.
Now I want you Steve Martin fans to know that although I'm mad at Steve for stealing my material when I was but a mere boy incapable of defending myself, I do love his comedy dearly. Of course I do, since it's really mine. So you see, in that sense I too am a Steve Martin Fan, though I hate his stinking guts.

Now Steve's never going to admit to our little meeting. The only witnesses were my friend Cindy (the Jehova's Witness) and the girl working at the corn dog stand. Steve was sleeping with the corn dog girl, (and eating at her stand for free I should mention), and promised to sleep with Cindy when she came of age if she'd keep her mouth shut about his lifting of my gags. I have then no proof. I have only the knowledge that Steve will burn in hell for his crime. Of course as an atheist I don't believe in hell, but I'll convert if that's what it takes to show that funny man a little justice. Know any good religions with particularly nasty versions of hell and laxed attitudes towards custard?

I've been quiet about this for too long. I'm ready to fight! I will show this Steve Martin for the evil corn dog eating, comedy steeling, corn dog vendor and jehova's witness just turned 18 threesome having scoundrel (sorry for the bad language) that he is.

Maybe Mormonism, I hear they have a pretty good health plan. Or maybe I'll convert to the Hare Krishna faith. Can I arrange to have Steve reincarnated as Gilbert Godfried?
So, my parents were wheeling me around in one of those hard plastic Disneyland strollers with the Mickey head molded in the front. They may be cute but let me tell you they're nowheresville on the comfort map. I had on my little white suit, my arrow through the head. I'd bored of making hilarious balloon sculptures for my playmates (the Freud with a corndog is still one of my finest) and so I pulled out my banjo picked a few tunes and when a crowd gathered I told a joke or two.

This pathetic guy was there trying to sell guide books using some tired old jokes and shaking a tamberine. He witnessed all the hub-bub around my stroller and, coming in to get a closer look he realized I was everything he'd been looking to become. I combined the finest of vaudeville with modern sensibilities and a so unhip as to be hip anti-hipness that made the post-hip crowd love me. Above all I was innocent. That's what they loved the most; my feigned innocence combined with the seemingly accidental wit of a Wiseman.

Well that bastard's career has been nonstop ever since. He cornered me and Cindy while we waited for her Jehova's Witness parents who were engaged in a vain for sugar free beverages in the magic kingdom. Steve bougt us a couple of corndogs and I showed him my shtick.

From happy feet to balloon art. He took notes and kept saying, "Yes, Yes, Yes!" and then kissing the corn dog lady; Big sloppy kisses like the world would witness years later in Prince's Purple Rain (By the way Prince stole that script from cousin Paul, though Paul's version was about an airline stewardess who ran for congress and it featured more folk music. Believe it or not, it's up to you. I don't care.)
Steve is one of my biggest influences meaning I too want to steal all my material from a toddler.

Now I tried to fight back, but Steve sent his boys to rough me up. They beat me for hours with rubber chickens to a soundtrack of Steve on the banjo. I will not cave in though, I will continue to tell my story, and they'll not silence me, not without breaking out the custard anyway. For the record his gang was made up of Carrot Top, Arsenio Hall, David Arquette and Mr. T. I think he must be in cahoots with those devils in the collect phone call game. Oh what a seedy bunch.