Hi, friends,
This is Dr. Lecter—or, as many of you know me, Hannibal, or H-ball. I am writing to you because a few people have been talking about some unsavory (to be honest, it’s all savory—but this is not something I intend to make light of) things I’ve done in the past. I wanted to say, in my own words, directly, to all of you, that I am so sorry for my long history of cannibalism.
When I set out to become a psychiatrist, I did it to help people (and to pay off some medical-school debts—sheesh!), and as I grew my practice I swore that my office would be a place of trust, empathy, and emotional vulnerability. But that emotional vulnerability often led to crying, which, to me, is just face seasoning.
I am so sad to learn that I have hurt even one of you. Anybody who knows me knows that I want to do right by everyone, so to learn that my actions—specifically, eating humans—were ever at anybody’s expense makes my heart hurt almost as much as when I ate that competitive hot-dog eater.
As my career took off and my appetite grew, I started to lose touch with humanity, and the only real connection I had to people was digestive. In no way do I want to defend what I’ve done, but it was a different time. This was all before whatever Nutella is—this was back when our only snack was quaaludes, back when we looked the other way when someone did something wrong. It was the early nineties, the mid-nineties, and the late nineties. It was the two-thousands and then a few times it was 2019.
I want to assure all of you that I am learning and growing. I have grown because of the work that other people before me put into themselves right before I ate them.
It is my responsibility as a citizen of this world and as a psychiatrist to look inward—not with the eyes of the stomach, but with the eyes of a head, which I will no longer refer to as “hors d’oeuvres” or “person caviar.” I will make a concerted effort to better myself, to learn from all of you, and to become the man whose nickname is no longer “Hannibal the Cannibal” but, rather, “Lecter the Reflector.”
Finally, I want to thank each and every one of you for calling me out and calling me in. I can’t imagine how scary it is to confront someone who might eat you. It must be how David felt with Goliath, or how marbles feel around Hungry Hungry Hippos. I am so glad that you brought this to my attention and I am, again, so sorry to have hurt anybody, especially my surviving friends whom I respect and cherish so dearly (but have not been drawn to gustatorially—nothing personal).
I just wanted to thank you again for reading this. It means the world. I can’t wait to have you all for dinner. And, no, not like that. I mean eat you.
XO H.L.
