Uncle Craig, We Really Need to Talk About What Happened at Family Feud Last Week

Hi, Uncle Craig. Thanks for coming.

Please, take a seat. No, not there. This chair here. That’s right. Coffee? Macaroon?  No? Well, they’re over there if you want them.

So, anyway, you’ve probably noticed that the entire rest of the family is gathered in a big semicircle in my living room, and you’re probably wondering what’s up.

Well, relax. We’re not here to gang up on you. We’re just concerned about you, that’s all

As you know, it’s been a full week since our taping of Family Feud in Atlanta. Yes, we’re disappointed that we lost. Badly. And, sure, it would have been nice to have the opportunity to play for $20,000 in the Fast Money round, plus a chance at winning a brand-new, fully-loaded Ford Edge. But that’s not what this is about.

Frankly, Uncle Craig, your behavior that day gave us all cause for concern. That’s what we’re here to talk about.

Not to name names, but some people didn’t want you on our team initially. And Cousin Gretchen lobbied pretty hard for that fifth slot, seeing as how she watches the show every day of her life.

But I insisted on including you, Uncle Craig. I knew you’d had some setbacks lately, what with losing your job at Entenmann’s and Corrine walking out on you, and I thought Family Feud might help turn things around.

Obviously, I was wrong. So there’s blame to be spread around here. It’s not all your fault.

I first noticed something was amiss when you didn’t say a word on the entire eight-hour drive to Atlanta. That is, you didn’t say a word to us. You mumbled to yourself an awful lot, plus you yelled ethnic slurs at people in other cars. Obscure ethnic slurs, too. I mean, who still says “bohunk” in 2018? Well, you do, apparently.

Then there was the matter of your outfit that day. We thought it would be cute if we wore matching outfits on the show. It would make us look more like a team. That’s why we had those identical teal sweaters. You, however, went in your own direction entirely, with the mesh T-shirt and the assless leather chaps. There are outfits, Uncle Craig, and then there are cries for help. And this was clearly the latter.

Your behavior did not improve once we reached the studio. For one thing, you kept asking everyone you met, “Where’s Ray Combs?” even after being told repeatedly that the former Family Feud host had killed himself in 1996. I think you made one of the older stagehands cry.

Things really took a nosedive when we got to the green room and met the Petersons, the family we were going to be playing against that day. While the rest of us shook their hands and wished them luck, you walked over to the craft service table and peed on the food. You announced that you were marking your territory, but those deli trays were for everyone. You also repeatedly referred to the Petersons as “bitches.”

Not nice, Uncle Craig. Not nice at all.

So finally, it was time for the taping. I hoped you would settle down once the game was underway, but my hopes were dashed when host Steve Harvey asked you what you did for a living. As I remember it, you said, “This!” and grabbed Mr. Harvey by the lapels, pulled him close to you, and kissed him full on the mouth for 30 seconds. How did you think that was appropriate?

Another issue was that you were constantly wandering over to the other side of the set, where the Petersons were. The producers made it very clear that we were supposed to stay on our side of the stage the entire time, but you just wouldn’t listen. First, you seemed to be flirting with their daughter, then with their son, and finally with their grandmother. That elderly woman was not at all flattered by your suggestion that you and she “ditch these nerds and head to Cabo.”

Worst of all, though, were your answers to the questions. The whole point of Family Feud is to guess what a group of average Americans would have said on a survey. Your responses, however, indicated that you did not even grasp the basic premise of the show.

Let me give you an example. When Steve Harvey said, “Name something you hope your boss never catches you doing at work,” you were supposed to say something like “sleeping on the job” or “stealing office supplies.” Instead you said, “Strangling an intern for sexual gratification.” I mean, really, Uncle Craig, did you honestly think anyone was going to answer that way on a survey? I was embarrassed that poor Steve Harvey had to repeat what you said.

And what about your answer to “Name a part of their bodies that women try to call attention to”? If you’ll recall, you said “cervix” for some reason. And then, when that was ruled to be incorrect, you lunged at the judges’ table and yelled,“Sic semper tyrannis!” They had to spray you with a fire extinguisher to calm you down before they could even continue with the taping. They shouldn’t have to do that, Uncle Craig. That’s not part of their job.

After a while, you stopped paying attention to the questions entirely and simply responded to every query with loud, lingering, Joker-like laughter. If this was your attempt to lighten the mood, it was miscalculated.

By this time, the Petersons were pretty visibly nervous and had huddled together for safety. The grandmother was even  holding up a crucifix she’d brought with her and saying a novena. But, God bless them, they did manage to reach the 300 points necessary to win the game. Not that we gave them much competition.

The Petersons’ joy, however, was short-lived when you refused to vacate the stage. Instead, you stripped nude, declared yourself the “Lord High Mayor of Fucksylvania,” and climbed to the top of the Family Feud set with the agility of a lemur. Honestly, I was impressed that a man your age and weight could still climb like that.

Unfortunately, you then pelted anyone who came near you with a substance I do not care to name. I think we both know what it was, though, and a good deal of it landed on those unfortunate Petersons. Luckily, the crew had some very potent animal tranquilizers handy. Apparently, they were left over from the days when Louie Anderson hosted. Thank heaven for small favors, am I right?

Obviously, you won’t remember the next few hours. By the time you woke up, we were somewhere near Charlotte. Suffice it to say, we were escorted out of the studio by security guards and did not receive any lovely parting gifts. The only bonus prize we received that day was the fact that they decided not to press charges. It was a long drive home for all of us, I can assure you.

So there you have it, Uncle Craig. I think I covered most of the major “red flags” that we noticed last week. If you’re going through any personal issues right now, please know that you can always come to any of us for help. Within reason, of course.

In the meantime, though, would you mind taking a look at this? It’s a dry cleaning bill from the Petersons. As you can see, it’s substantial. We’re not asking you to pay all of it, but we were hoping you could chip in. After all, it’s the least you could do.

Oh, and please stop sending those love letters to the grandmother. That woman has suffered enough.