HARRY JOHNSON GOES NUCKING FUTZ
I wish to thank all my close friends who emailed me this past week (mybestfriendtodd@gmail.com), begging me to stop blogging this bloggity blog. Especially my “beautiful” wife Nancy’s non-genius brother Russell, who has officially threatened to “beat the tentacles off” of me if I don’t “cease to desist”. Hi, Russell.
Thanks also to the many young emailers who think I’m totally cool, and are encouraging me to “continue bragging about my massive failure not only as a television creator, but as a human being.”
Kids, I realize that failing in a grand way seems to be all the rage currently. But I assure you, I’m not doing it to be trendy. I’ve been failing for a long time - way before it became popular.
But the implosion of The Harry Situation eclipses all my previous failures. It is a triumphant failure on a galactic level. You know how a star collapses and becomes a black hole? And that black hole sucks in everything around it, including other stars?
Friends, prepare yourself for the story of how one excited and eager Harry Johnson got sucked deep into that dark hole. You ready for this?
First, as I said before, they made Hal Johnson change his name to Harry Johnson.
But it takes more than a name change to turn a simple kid from Ohio into a mentally unstable, emotionally disturbed kid from Ohio.
It took a very heavy load of humiliating and degrading experiences to drive him to this point.
But I’m allegedly a ‘comedy’ writer, so I’ll try to make the painful story of his downfall really funny for you, ‘kay?
Harry’s problem was classic …
And he didn’t care who knew it. But Dawn did care. She kept up a public front of what she called “professional disinterest”.
Unfortunately for Harry, she kept up an even stronger private front of what she called “hating him.”
So let’s review:
I just threw down with the library guy because apparently my time is up even though there is another machine free right next to me. So I am being “asked to vacate” the library. Libraries are so stupid.
Oh good, now there is a security guy here. He’s letting me finish typing this sentence and then I have to go - this guy’s got a German Shepherd, and he has that little red motel nightstand book in his pocket. What is going on in this country?
