The sun, fading into the night’s mystery, silhouetted a man, a funnyman. Home to fat women and Dan, Wharton, Texas is where this comedic genius began cultivating his career. Walking towards me, Dan’s bulbous head shaded the sun from my eyes. I was in the midst of my comedic hero.
Scantily clad, Dan was wearing tight fitting cut off jeans that hugged his sadly sagged rear. His legs, cleanly shaven, donned thigh highs, and the pumps, mauve, really accentuated his calves. His shirt, sporting the logo of his favorite diner, The Greazy Urn, was a boy’s size medium. His nipples, thanks to an “accident” at the cleaners, shone through to the world and spoke volumes about Dan’s comedic bravery.
Starting sometime last century, Dan did his version of “the news” for local radio stations. Quickly gaining notoriety, it was his brilliant timing, his dashing looks and his irreverent rendition of an Asian man using a fork that burst him onto the national scene. It was a tough act to follow as Dan quickly found out in what he later called his dark days. Remaining experimental, Dan worked new routines such as, “The Dirty Finger,” “Anus and Andy” and “Food is Good Food” to no avail.
Soon after, the car was invented and Dan returned home, dejected. With his career in peril, Dan drowned his sorrows in Boonesfarm, the affordable wine. Drunk, depressed, Dan married Bessy, his family’s best looking cow, at the local convenience store where he and the ushers milked the bridal party in celebration. This stunt, as he later called it, rejuvenated the funnyman back into action.
Working the local Tan and Feed stores, Dan fine-tuned his act in front of the bronzed locals and the farm animals enjoying a snack. Though no one in the audience related to his high brow humor, he learned his most valuable comedic lesson, the straight face. It was this knowledge and Bessy’s recent tryst with Shwumpy, the three-legged goat, that empowered Dan to be! He packed his things and headed for bright lights, big city.
It was March 9, 1981, that Dan, caught in the rain and fearing what it might reveal under his tapered pair of white pants, was discovered. Finding shelter in the closest building, Dan and his straight faced antics, immediately upon entering, chased the urine from everyone within earshot. Hired on the spot, he has been delivering his off beat brand of humor ever since. Following it up with his book, “I Remember Afghanistan,” a playful look into the hotbed of hilarity, Dan cemented his spot in the comedic hall of fame.
As I sat there, pen in hand, expecting to laugh, I realized Dan was much deeper than a simple joke, a simple eye poking. I could tell as we delved into my question that comedy was simply the by-product of a man who has lived an interesting life.
I asked, “Dan, did you always think you would be a comedian?”
Dan, replying with the scowl I’ve come to know and love, “what the hell are you talking about?”
Dan, you said a mouthful.
