You just made my list!

No, not me. My wiener is as wonderful and sperm-filled as it always has been. Sorry, I’ve had a busy week and have neglected my writing duties, or writing “dooties” depending on your opinion of me. Watch this and get over it.

P.S. YouTube can suck my un-vasectomied dick for not allowing embedding on this clip!

Hey, when I asked for a beer I didn’t think you were going pour it so fast that it would shoot out the other side of the glass all over my slacks. I have a very important sales seminar to attend his afternoon and beer-soaked slacks do not make a good first impression.

AHHHHHHH, you just blinded me when you slammed your Extreme Shrimp Blaster into that hot butter! I SEE NOTHING! WHY?!?

And I just got this shirt too. It’s impossible to wash out butter, especially when you’re BLIND, thank you very much Steve! Man, this is the worst lunch ever. Whoa, what just hit me in the face? Was that salad? Did someone just throw a fucking salad into my face? What is wrong with you people?

I won’t even try to be a smart ass today because I am genuinely sad about the death of Harvey Pekar and don’t really want to make a joke out of it.

I also don’t feel like going into a long explanation of who Harvey Pekar is because I’m assuming most of you already know and quite honestly I don’t think I can do him justice with my half-assed attempt at an obituary. If you haven’t read American Splendor I command you to do so! I don’t even like comic books or illustrated novels but I love American Splendor! Likewise, if you have not seen the brilliant movie about Harvey, also titled American Splendor, you should watch it immediately.

Like most people, I was first introduced to Harvey Pekar via his confrontational Letterman appearances. If you are unfamiliar or a little younger than me, you need to keep those appearances in context. First of all, television had never seen anything like Late Night with David Letterman. It seems commonplace now but at the time Letterman’s antics were groundbreaking and shocking. He pushed the limits of what could be done on TV, specifically the limits of how entertaining the mundane could be. You simply did not see people on a major network dedicating entire segments to throwing things off a five-story building or stupid tricks performed by animals.

Now, add a cranky comic book writer from Cleveland who didn’t give a shit that he was biting the hand that feeds with every appearance and it was impossible to turn away. Again, this was decades before the TV was filled with self-destructive reality “stars” and it was fascinating to witness.

Like Letterman, Pekar pulled high drama out of the seemingly mundane. He simply told the story of his day to day life in comic book form, warts and all. Mostly warts. He was an outsider artist who managed to poke his head into the mainstream from time to time but only long enough to make himself uncomfortable, then it was back to obscurity at his hospital job in Cleveland. His books are incredibly engaging but as I sit here trying analyze why I feel that way I can’t come up with a reason. I mean he writes about riding the bus and working as a filing clerk but somehow you can’t wait for the next page.

I’m trying to think of some big smart-sounding way to end this but I guess it makes more sense to just say I’m glad people like Harvey Pekar exist.

Harvey’s first Letterman appearance. He came out swinging from the beginning. (Bad audio in some parts)
Part 1

Part 2

Things were still going OK at this point.

This gets a little bumpy.

Possibly Harvey’s last Letterman Appearance in 1993

If only there was a way to combine my love of sandwiches with tennis ball packaging.

From now on when I head to a kickass beach party I’m grabbing a six-pack of Coors Light and a sixer of BBQ chicken sandwiches. I’m also bringing a six-pack of condoms because when the ladies see me pop the top off a fresh sammie they’re going to be like, “I wish that guy eating canned sandwiches over there would get me pregnant,” and I’m going to be like, “You wish,” and then she’s going to be like, “Yeah, that’s what I just said,” and I’ll be like, “That’s what she said,” and she’ll be like, “Wait, I can’t tell if you are kidding or you just can’t understand what I’m saying,” and then I’ll smash the empty Candwich can on my head and be like, “I just ate a canned sandwich so, yeah, I’d say I’m basically the shit. Now let’s do it.” Yet another girl goes home with a little PB&J all over her body. NEXT!

I don’t hate the concept of the Candwich. How could I? Sandwich in a can? Yeah, that’s perfectly normal and awesome. I do, however, take issue with the fact that the Candwich creator, Travis L. Wright, was able to talk a bunch of Utah investors out of $145,000,000 in order to make his dream of canned lunch a reality. Well technically they thought they were investing in real estate and Wright was secretly using their money to cram hoagies into soda cans. The point is, this guy had a dream and found a way to scam people in order to make it a reality. Why don’t I have that kind of resourcefulness?

Oh sure, it’s easy for you to sit there on your high horse and call Travis Wright a thief and a fraud but why don’t you take a bite of this turkey and Swiss before you pass judgment. Here, wash it down with a can of mashed potatoes and gravy.

Apology accepted.

If I wasn’t sort of drunk right now I would put more effort into this and believe me it would be HILARIOUS. Such is life.

Plus, what the fuck could be said about this?

What’s wrong Rush, afraid of a little rain? What’s the deal Geddy, didn’t want the moist air to wreck your beautiful hair? Pussholes!

Thanks for making me drive through Chicago rush (hey!) hour traffic, park, take a shuttle filled with inconceivable body odor, stand outside in the rain for an hour and buy (and drink) an $11 Bud Light just so you can cancel the concert. I drank a God Damn Bud Light for you fucking hosers!

Then you have the unbelievable nerve, the unmitigated gall, to reschedule the concert on 9/11. Take off, eh! It’s official, Rush hates America.

Oh, and you owe my friend an umbrella to replace the one the cock-licking cock-ass venue security confiscated.

And once again, fuck you Chicago weather!

“Holy shit Linda, I think I’m having a heart attack!”

“What did you say Brad? I’m scrapbooking.”

“I said I’m having a fucking heart attack! You need to get me to the hospital!”

“Oh jeez, don’t panic, I saw a really cute commercial the other day for a hospital. The doctors looked so handsome and the girl doctors were Asian. What the heck was it called?”

“Just call 911 Linda!”

“Hold your horses mister, I think you would really like this place, it had a real cute entrance with a cute fountain and the doctors were walking in slow motion. It made them look very hip.”

“I think I just pissed my pants. LINDA!”

“Maybe that dang commercial is on the DVR, I think I saw it during Ellen. Oh, that reminds me, I saved it for you because that sports fella you like was on.”

“Heart…attack…FUCK…THE…DVR!”

“That’s some way to talk! Fine let me check Yelp. Ooooooh, this one gets 4.5 stars! Dave_matthews_1_fan says it has the best vending machines! Brad, does that sound good?”

“Heart…ex…..ex………..exploding.”

“Shoot, sandwich_lover gives it 1 star and says ‘don’t waste your time, I’ve been to better hospitals.‘ Brad what do you think? I wish I could remember what hospital that commercial was for. It was black and white. Brad? BRAD? IT WAS BLACK AND WHITE.”

“dying.”

“OK, keep your pants on. Let me just update my Facebook status real quick and we can be on our way to that vending machine hospital… ‘Leftover pizza, sweat pants, Legos EVERYWHERE and late night trip to the hospital… just another crazy day for the Smithporks!’”

“Take me lord, I am ready.”

“Found it Brad! Honey? Crawl into the living room, I wanna show you.”

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap…

That slow clap is for you, Kleenex, for having the balls to stick your middle finger up Mother Nature’s ass and say right to her face, “Fuck you bitch, you’re not the boss of me!” What’s next Kleenex? Q-tips made out out baby seal fur? HELL YEAH, fuckin’ go fuckin’ for it! BEER! (sorry, I’m still kind of amped from the 4th of July)

I will admit, I kind of hate the “green” movement. Not because of what it stands for, it stands for the RIGHT thing and we should all be more conscious about our impact on the environment, but rather I hate the way it has become the flavor-of-the-month for marketing agencies and an empty gesture made by most people. “Sure, I drive a Hummer but I also changed all the lights around the pool to compact fluorescent bulbs, so I’m doing my part.”

But come on Kleenex, disposable single-use hand towels in your home bathroom? Bravo! That’s like trying to sell “I hate America” T-shirts on September 12th. Although, this is one of the rare times I am wrong because people WILL buy this ridiculous gimmick because we (not me, you) are afraid of EVERYTHING in this country.

Kleenex will have everyone believing porn stars sneak into their bathrooms at night and jerk off all over their towels while their family safely dreams about EPCOT Center and Guitar Hero in their bedrooms. Oh, and those porn stars all have AIDS… and bird flu. Also, the birds had AIDS so they are really covering your towels in human AIDS, bird flu and bird AIDS. So if you are keeping score, that’s two AIDS and one flu. ON YOUR TOWELS!