Johnny Hart can lick 'em.

My friend Carl told me about this at the Black Cat on Saturday night and now has it in his blog, and I am with him on this. Johnny Hart sucks. One of the unfunniest motherfuckers around. (You'll notice I take the less eloquent route; I defer to Mr. O and the smarts out there for academic tones, unless I'm discussing the brilliance of CPO Sharkey; then I'm all business.) This man wouldn't be funny in the Catskills. And it has nothing to do with his religious beliefs. My best friend from college, Mark, is a methodist pastor, yet he's not Ned Flanders. People think that religious folk are automatically saccharine. But let me tell ya, few people have made me laugh as much as Mark, and he does it all without working blue. Perhaps it's an generational thing, then. Whatever it is, I've never liked B.C.. Even the old BC game on the Commodore 64 sucked. (I still have that, FYI.) I'm willing to believe it's just his god-awful (see what I did there?) attempt at potty humor, just because that man wouldn't know funny if he was getting DPed by the Rowan and Martin while the re-animated corpse of Tiny Tim sang "O Come All Ye Faithful" with ukelele accompaniment.

Anyway...

Other news ("news"): my umbrella got stolen. So much for the honor system at the Y. It's my own fault, of course, but that shit ain't making me feel better. Aside from the sentimental value (it was a gift), it was also a damn good umbrella. Just compact enough to fit in my bag (only the handle stuck out), but big enough, when opened, to provide me with more than adequate coverage. Just sad, stealing a man's umbrella. Now I'm going to have to find a new one. In the meantime, it's back to the small, barely useful umbrella I had as my back up. Great. I'm sure the downpour tomorrow morning during my walk to work will be torrential.

I hope whoever stole my umbrella gets struck by lightning when he uses it. Well, not really.