Getting Burned

It’s time for me to use my amazing influence to benefit a very special person: me

As a pretty major celebrity, I feel it’s my duty to use my high profile to advance causes I believe in. That’s why I give speeches at rallies for my political party (being retro-ironic, I’m a Whig); it’s the reason I do TV spots for my favorite nonprofit organization, Bring Back Corporal Punishment in Schools, and it’s why I’m now throwing my estimable influence behind medical research. Skin cancer—specifically, basil cell carcinoma—better look out, because I’ve got its number and I won’t rest until this epidemic has been eradicated. Why am I doing this? Because I’ve had enough of people needlessly contracting skin cancer. It upsets me that so many people have this. Most importantly, it upsets me that I have it. I am, in a very literal sense, a redneck, as my neck is home to a small red patch of skin that is chock full o’ cancer—but don’t worry, it’s the wimpy kind that doesn’t kill you, so there’s no need to find a new host for my weekly Frog Pond roller-dancing party just yet.

The main component of my newfound activism is a charity I’m launching to fight skin cancer: the Skin Care Alliance of Boston (SCAB). If SCAB can help just one person avoid premature death or disfigurement from skin cancer, I hope that person is me. But if I can help people other than myself, that’s really icing on the cake.

Here are some skin health tips: A good way to prevent skin cancer is to avoid the sun. If it calls, have your roommate say you’re away for the weekend, even if you’re sitting right there on the couch. After that happens a few times, the sun will get the message that you’re just not interested.

An even better way to dodge skin cancer is to not inherit pasty English genes that give you the solar resistance of a jellyfish. My dad had malignant melanoma, a type of skin cancer so bad that when I tell dermatologists that my father had it, they ask me if I’ve ever dreamed of going sky-diving. When I say yes, they say maybe I should try it. Soon.

Somehow, my dad lived. If skin cancer were bullets he’d be 50 Cent. In fact, maybe he could come out with a rap video and start a public beef with the sun. “You thought you got me when it metastasized/ But you’re weaker than a Value Meal without the fries.” His name is Charlie, so he could call himself Chuck D and maybe Public Enemy fans would get confused and buy his album.

Unlike me, you might be one of those people with a perfect complexion who tans easily and never has to worry about skin cancer, in which case, congratulations. You won’t die, you’ll just look like you should have a Coach logo branded on your forehead by the time you’re 32. I might be pale, but at least I don’t look like I crawled out of a giant bag of Oberto beef jerky. Sour grapes? Perhaps. But you’re a sour raisin.

Back to SCAB. Why should you pick SCAB for your next charitable donation? Because unlike some so-called charities, all money raised by SCAB goes directly to helping the cause. By the way, did I mention that I’ve had my name legally changed to The Cause? Please support The Cause.

If SCAB has any money left over after an upcoming trip to Jamaica to research the effect of rum and marijuana on sun resistance, we’re plowing the rest of our money into stem-cell research. Pundits will point out that my last pet project, the teen missionary foundation People Reforming Atheist Youth (PRAY), raised money to fight stem-cell research. Well, I changed my mind, OK? What, you’ve never changed your mind about something?

It’s time to turn our attention from the past and look to the future. I’m afraid for my kids. With the hole in the ozone layer, and ultraviolet rays raining ever-greater doses of radiation down on our heads, my children will almost certainly face the same problems as me unless action is taken. Fortunately, I know what must be done: I need to score those future Dyers some pigment. If I have kids with someone as pale as me, they’ll spontaneously combust before the age of 3. So, if any ladies of color reading this like the cut of my jib, I’ll be happy to give you the address of the underground lair that I’ll never be leaving from now on. Come on over and let’s get to know each other. I just ask that you please bring sunblock. I’m down to my last 55-gallon drum of it.