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DC: When did this "slapstick paradigm" occur to you?
MR: Early on I slipped and fell in a bat cave outside of Austin, Texas, and became hopelessly stuck in several tons of guano. With millions of bats peeing, pooing and birthing over my head, a legion of tiny, flesh-eating beetles began to bit my legs repeatedly. It was outrageously uncomfortable. The air was 110 degrees, and toxic with ammonia. As I sank to my waist in a vast, soupy poo, my predicament struck me as a ridiculous way to die, but not entirely without humor.
DC: So whatever sense of humor you have is really a just coping mechanism?
MR: Don't get me wrong. In real life, after a few drinks, I'm terribly amusing. But when you spend this much time working outside of your comfort zone, you need to find a way to enjoy being uncomfortable, if that makes sense. You need to adjust your expectations. A lot of people with dirty jobs know that instinctively. Or like me, they learn it on the job. It's like they're in on some joke the rest of us don't quite get, and you can see it in the way they approach their work.
DC: For example?
MR: The factory worker who makes bathroom drains, standing in the same place for eight hours a day, singing while he works. The butcher, who works the killing floor at a slaughterhouse, and tells Henny Youngman jokes all day. You see it in the camaraderie of a construction crew working to meet a deadline, or the good-natured ribbing between roughnecks and roustabouts, as they happily labor at one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. You see it anywhere danger and dirt are met head-on with cheerfulness, competence and optimism.
DC: Wow. That was uncharacteristically earnest.
MR: I'm complicated.
DC: Back to the Web site. A lot of women, and a few men, seem to think you're "hot." I've read dozens of marriage proposals, as well as some other offers. Any comment?
MR: Well, there's no accounting for taste. I'm a sweaty guy covered with blood and poo. I doubt you'll see me on the cover of People Magazine any time soon.
DC: You also sang with the Baltimore Opera, and performed in many theatrical productions. Were you covered with blood and poo then as well?
MR: Just my own.
DC: You really are complicated.
MR: Please don't print that. Remember, I'm actually asleep.
DC: Last question. Your name is in the title of a hit show, and your point of view drives all of the content. For the show to succeed, people need to genuinely like you on a personal level. Do you feel much pressure to be "likable"?
MR: Hmmm. Well. Not until this very moment.
DC: Sorry about that. Any final thoughts?
MR: No. Any final questions? I'm still waiting for something I've never been asked.
DC: Let's see ... if you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?
MR: The kind that doesn't make a noise when it falls on you.
DC: See? You're funny! Can we do this again sometime?
MR: Probably not.
