Who's the Class Clown?

I’m opening this thread in response to comments Dan Carroll made about me in the Who’s the Gayest Poster? thread. Dan is welcome to respond, but anyone else wishing to trash Dan or loser cartoonists in general should start up his own thread in the Coffee House. I think it's clear I deserve to wear the EvC Forum Class Clown mantle, not that mere wiseass Dan.Dan, it’s reprehensible of you to call my credentials into question. Unlike the girlfriend you claim to have but no one has seen, my education is real. I have a PhD in Science from Cotter Creek University and Stockade Fencing Co. in Greensboro, Tennessee, a fully accredited place of learning with its own PO box. My thesis How We Know Stuff was an exhaustively compiled overview of the way truth is judged to be true, particularly from the objective, intellectual perspective of unquestioning Biblical literalism. I have answered the tired old arguments that my thesis consists solely of illegally photocopied pages of copyrighted material a dozen times, and will not waste time doing so again. I apologize that the CCUSFC’s records retention department has not answered your requests for a copy of the thesis, but like I said, things are up in the air there every time the shed gets painted. This thesis underwent a rigorous examination process that would reduce most doctorate candidates to mere puddles of charged particles. In fact, not only did the President and entire Board of Directors of the CCUSFC review my proposed thesis during their holiday to Savannah (happy anniversary, Greg and Sara!), but they commended me on my collating and stapling abilities. My diploma from this proud institution has hung on the wall in my study for all to see ever since it arrived at my trailer/office via FedEx. With the sunset glinting off its aluminum frame, the mailbox-sticker lettering declares through the plexiglas that I am Dr. Esteban Hambre, PhD. Before you scoff, Dan, at least realize that this baby cost me the equivalent of seventeen payments on your Corolla, okay?

How old are you?
Seriously asking.

He's 37.Why?

I'm glad Mr. Hambre has elected to take time out of his busy schedule to address this issue. As we all know, exposing yourself to pedestrians for quarters is a demanding, thankless job, but somebody's got to do it.First, a word about myself. As previously stated, I live in Chicago with my cat and my girlfriend. (My girlfriend is indeed real, or I wouldn't need quite so many puncture repair kits.) While I don't have quite the impressive list of "credentials" and "qualifications" that dot your impeccable resume, I was out fighting in the trenches of clownery, while you were sitting safe and secure in the classroom. I watched my buddies wallow face-down in the muck of obligations like "rent" and "food", dropping out of the clowning world altogether, while you pondered the significance of ancient philosophers like Aristophanes. You can talk all you want about poop jokes, but until you're staring down the muzzle of a screeching monkey as he hurls his feces straight at your head, it's nothing but mental masturbation.And I for one have had it up to here with you ivory tower comedians, glancing down your nose at the hardclowning people who made it happen. Your fancy mail-order PhD isn't worth shit against a good old-fashioned midget-tossing, with decent God-fearing people. But you wouldn't know anything about the giddy rush of a three-foot tall man held proudly over your head, as you prepare to lob him with all your might to defeat your worthy adveraries.You call yourself a clown? A rainbow wig can't be worn alongside your frilly ascots, Lord Fauntleroy.

... um...... I AM THE MESSENJAH!------------------
"Illuminant light,
illuminate me."[This message has been edited by Rei, 09-25-2003]

I am the Passenjah!

Dan Carroll wouldn’t know wit if it slapped him across his nicotine-stained piehole. He calls sleeping off a champale hangover in an alleyway on Division Street fighting in the trenches of clownery? I think everyone on EvC Forum realizes that those who can’t, draw cartoons.I'm well aware that the comics biz has all the excitement of an orgy at a rest home. I’ll have you know that the satire classroom is about as treacherous an environment as any apprentice wag could ask for. In the midst of analyzing chapters of Voltaire or Swift, you never knew when an explosion would rip through the formerly hushed hallways, sending a hail of illustrated pages from Gogol flying amid the shrapnel of thick corrective lenses and charred geek flesh. And that was just the instructors keeping us on our toes. Meanwhile, I bet Scribble Boy was sitting in some hovel drinking Old Style with his greasepainted homies and watching ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.’ His only fear in life has been getting bagged for shoplifting adult diapers.But really, Dan, let’s hear some serious words from you. If you’ve learned anything from consorting with midgets and monkeys who were obviously your intellectual superiors, that is.

That's right, I've downed my share of Old Style in my time. True comedy is a merciless bitch goddess, and a goddess demands sacrifice. (Not that your poncey academic friends would know about pleasin' the ladies. How does the headmaster's cane feel across your backside, by the way?)I wake up in a pool of my own urine no less than three times a day, all for the sake of Lady Laughter. And Division street is just the start... I down myself into a vomit-covered stupor everywhere from Skokie to South Side so everyone can have a taste. You say filthy vagrant? I say keepin' it real.Hambre here wants us all to think that a rousing chorus of Noel Coward songs qualifies as an explosion, or that some rather mischievous readings from Salome amount to danger. His perfumed, powdered world has no place for the hard men of the comics world, with nothing but a ball point and a few torn, soiled pages from Scott McCloud to keep you safe.A man who turns his back on the midgets and the monkeys can't be called a man at all.I spent my days adhering to the three principles of comedy... true comedy, in the language of the streets.1) Cats, dead or dying.
2) Robots, the bigger and clumsier the better.
3) Old people, specifically the cast of TV's Golden Girls.Drink it up deep, 'cuz that's the taste of funny.[This message has been edited by Dan Carroll, 09-25-2003]

Ok, ok, it's your thread, I'll stop having my fun. ------------------
"Illuminant light,
illuminate me."[This message has been edited by Rei, 09-25-2003]

ROFL, Rei!------------------
Life has no meaning but itself.

(On a serious note, Rei, if you're up for it, I'd love to write you a comic script so you can photoshop the art.)

Hey stop picking on me... hahahahahA

quote:

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(On a serious note, Rei, if you're up for it, I'd love to write you a comic script so you can photoshop the art)

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(I'm up for it any time you are )------------------
"Illuminant light,
illuminate me."

quote:

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With the sunset glinting off its aluminum frame

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Are you talking about your trailor or the certificate?

Oh, please, Dan. You can hardly wear the rebel hat if your view of comedy concerns Adam Sandler and frat-boy hijinx. I know you'd love to think I'm a harmless prep school wag who thinks that craven asshole Tom Lehrer is a hoot. However, I assure you I bear a closer resemblance to a Travis Bickle of comedy, a lava-surfing cut-and-slash satirist, a garish John Wayne Gacy clown come to life. When the men in blue finally gun me down in seedy Central Square, they'll find grenades beneath my moldy cassock and several ten-penny nails driven into my testicles. That's not sick, Dan, that's funny.It's one thing to point out my lack of success with women (and it wasn't my history of molestation that left me unable to get off on the same planet as any female, it's my dedication to keeping my bodily fluids at the disposal of my Art), but your comments concerning my mother in the "Lineage of Jesus" thread were totally unwarranted. You think she's the only person on the east coast who has a thing for liquid demerol? And how many times do I have to tell you she only lived with Brad McFall for two months? Leave her alone, for crying out loud, she's suffered enough.Cats? Robots? Old people? You're an amateur, Dan. I didn't waste that stint in the Marines over in Kosovo, pal. I've laughed amid mass graves, Comic Book Boy, even if I was in Supply and never really saw anything graphic. Our world is a sick, amoral sewer, and it's goddamn great comedy. Did you have your eyes closed during the twentieth century, Dan, or did you just miss all the good stuff? I was there, Dan, well I read about it anyway.