It took me eight years to write this book. The research alone—fact-checking, reading the source materials, asking questions—was endless and I didn’t care for it that much. I just didn’t. But I persisted because I knew what I was doing was truly very important. A book is never the work of one man. Many people contribute to its failure, or as in this case, its success. Dorathoy Roberts at the Harvard Widener Library was instrumental in recovering so many facts and nautical terms. Janart Prancer aided my work immensely with her near-encyclopedic understanding of rare manuscripts in the Herzog August Library, Wolfenbüttel, Germany. Esther Nausbaum, head librarian at the prestigious Kirkland School of Dinosaurs, was instrumental in tracking down indispensable paleoecological records for chapter 15 in this book. Herb Kolowsky was ever watchful and patient, reading over many drafts of the manuscript as well as cleaning my gutters. I consulted with my dear friend and lover Doris Kearns Goodwin over many breakfasts in bed. Her sharp intellect and sharper teeth found their way into practically every page. Although we are no longer lovers because I don’t know why, her knowledge of presidential history is the basis for chapter 12. Her dogged enthusiasm for the project was only outpaced by her enthusiasm for lovemaking, which I could barely equal. I don’t know what to say about Doris really except if she’s still out there and she would like another bounce, I would be game. Johnny Bench was an invaluable spell-checker. Lars Mankike brought an artistic eye to the project and a kind of European nihilism that was completely unnecessary. We fought often and he got what he deserved, so I’m not even sure why I’m thanking him here, but it’s too late now. Sandy Duncan is full of boundless energy. What can I say about Veronica Corningstone, the love of my life? We’ve had our ups and downs for sure, and usually the downs were because of something stupid she said or did while losing her blood. You really can’t fault women for being irrational. Blood drips out of them willy-nilly and there’s nothing they can do about it. It’s like being a hemophiliac. I suspect science will one day cure them of this blood-dripping disease but until then, Vive la différence. Finally Baxter, my dog and best friend, saw me through many tough hours as I struggled with my emotions during this project. His love and support sustained me through extremely difficult excavations into my past. Only Baxter knows the pain I have lived. Our nightly talks formed the basis for what you hold in your hand now.
WHY WRITE THIS BOOK?
Does mankind really need another book dumped onto the giant garbage heap of books already out there? Is there some pressing desire for the wisdom of a humble News Anchor in this world? Will it add to the great literary achievements throughout time or will it be lost in a swamp of trivial scribbling like pornography—devoured and then destroyed out of shame? I stand here (I write standing up) and I say, “No!” No, this book will NOT be lost! This book is necessary. It’s an important work from an important man. I was the number one News Anchor in all of San Diego. My name is Ron Burgundy and what you have in your hands is a very big deal. It’s...my…life. It’s my words. It’s my gift to you.