CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #273 I am writing this vanity card from deep in the jungles of Borneo. The heat is oppressive. The mosquitoes are relentless. And the natives.... the natives are hungry for meat. American meat. Specifically, ground chuck. What was I thinking coming here for my Xmas break? What insanity led me to this godforsaken hell?! Oh, how I wish I were back in Burbank. Oh, Burbank, Burbank, Burbank! Forgive me for not seeing your beauty when you thrust it in my face. But now that matters not. Or, that matters not now. Either way, my time is running short. Funny how your perspective changes when the end is near. Being overlooked by the Golden Globes, yet again, seems so unimportant to me now. The fact that one of the natives about to eat me is a freelance show biz reporter for the Kota Kinabalu Daily Bugle and a voting member of the Hollywood Foreign Press even provides me with some comfort. For as I close my eyes on this world I'll at least know that while I may not be to everyone's taste as television, if sauteed with butter and lemon, I will be to everyone's taste as lunch.