The American Jerk, Episode II: Revenge of The Saleeby

Editor’s Note: Hey, it’s Rob. Back in April, 1999, the first month The American Jerk was published, Paul and I actively solicited for contributors, since neither of us knew if I’d have the energy to write anything deeper than, “All work and no play make Rob not want to write I don’t want to write give me that beer Goddammit I have a bomb is it worth your Mom’s life that’s not a real taser you lying sack of akdjlakjsgggggggg” on a monthly basis.

Our solicitation landed us with a bunch of demented yahoos from the Deep South who thought that “humorous writing” was a death threat to Hillary, and that a punchline was a legal defense for getting out of a simple battery charge. However, thankfully, it landed us with one genuinely funny demented yahoo from the Deep South: John Saleeby.

John worked as a professional stand-up comic in New York for several years, and he’s contributed to National Lampoon (Both the original magazine and it’s current Web incarnation). He’s written for several Web sites, including Acid Logic and the original American Jerk, and I’m damned proud to publish his stuff here again.

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Thank God The American Jerk has returned! My book “Admit It, Neo Cons – You’re Queer For Rumsfeld” has been turned down by every publisher in the business and I’ve just realized that in the “Family Guy” script I sent to Fox I named the Father “Homer” and the Mother “Marge”. Damn!

Oh, if only I could go back to 1999 when I was writing for The American Jerk and all of show business was at my feet (Boy, did Mom get mad when I walked inside without wiping off my shoes and got Alec Baldwin all over the carpet). But then Rob Reuter decided to stop publishing The Jerk to spend three years in a Buddhist temple in the Far East. After six months it turned out Rob’s head was stuck inside a Betamax cassette of one of those Jet Li movies. If I’d known that The Betamax Guy who had become such a familiar character staggering around town was Rob Reuter I might have lifted a finger to keep him from wandering into traffic. But watching Rob bounce fifty feet into the air after getting hit by a speeding vehicle had become such a rich source of entertainment for all the little boys and girls of the neighborhood I’m sure a Good Old Fashioned Vaudevillian like Rob enjoyed every minute of it.

Me? I woke up one day and found out that I was writing for some thing called “Drew Carey’s Blue Screen”. I still don’t have the slightest idea what the hell that “Blue Screen” was supposed to be, I was so horrified by the “Drew Carey” part of the title that the show could have been called “Drew Carey’s Red Suspenders” or “Drew Carey’s Green Onions” and I still would have been writing resignation letters on the wall with my own blood. Luckily the show was cancelled before I could ask Carey what the hell he was thinking putting that horrible fat bitch who wore too much make up on his show when all those fine young girls on those Adult Party Line commercials don’t have anything better to do than those Adult Party Line commercials.

So, when I found out Rob was bringing The American Jerk back I was so happy I gave up on a chance to pilot the getaway chopper in a Katie Holmes rescue mission. Take the controls, Dawson! I’s gonna writes me somes comedy!

[tags]Donald Rumsfeld, Drew Carey, Family Guy, Simpsons, dark humor, satire[/tags]

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