Facebook holes have brought me to a lot of dark places. I sit down to take a poo and suddenly 3 hours have passed, my legs are purple, the toilet seat has fused to my ass, and the formula’s got me so figured out I’m just bouncing from videos of taiwanese plumbers taking pythons out of toilets to tear-jerking Britain’s Got Talent auditions from 6 years ago.

Well it’s all been worth it for Coyote Peterson. This man may be my complete opposite. While I cannot understand an ounce of what makes him tick, I am 100% invested in everything that happens to him. 

While I run away from bees, this man runs towards anything that will sting, bite, burn, stab or maim him. I feel fairly confident Coyote Peterson has been bitten by every creature I fear on this planet. I can’t get enough of him. I obviously think he’s insane, but his content is irresistible. In all other cases I’ve said that  people like Coyote Peterson should work for me and my popping blog, but in this case I’m fully offering myself as a full time employee for him. I think the one thing his show is missing is someone who is just reminding him how scared he should be.

I could do an amazing job of just sitting in the corner and telling him to stop whatever he’s doing. “Stop free handling that Black Widow, Coyote. You’re going to die.” Call me the the audience’s psyche, the feeble heart of the show, or Coyote’s fear enabler; the job title means nothing to me. My only requirements are I don’t have to touch the beasts and I get a cool outfit. Not so cool of an outfit that I upstage my friend, Coyote. But cool enough that if he ever gets stung by so many bees that his face explodes that I serve as a logical second choice to the ladies. 

This man does it all. 

He gets stung by one big bee.

He gets stung by a million little bees.

He plays with dangerous spiders.

If you are afraid of something, chances are Coyote Peterson has taken that thing and made it bite him.

This man has more courage in his pinky toe than I have in my entire body, and I’ve never seen anyone who I have less in common with. He is the yin to my yang. The Simon melody to my Garfunkel Harmony. The Pamela Anderson to my red bathing suit. Coyote Peterson, if you’re listening, I’m ready for us.