It's All Good, Man

Awhile back, my friend Marco said “I wish John Goodman would die of a heart attack.” I’m sorry for sending you into a tailspin of emotions right off the bat like that, but I wanted you to feel the same shock and horror that I felt when I heard it. Did I mention that Marco is not my friend anymore? Well, he might be now, but that’s only because he somewhat recanted after I forced him to watch The Big Lebowski. I would have made him watch Goodman’s most acclaimed work of art, King Ralph, but the DVD has been sold out at every single store I’ve been to. Anyway, I can't tell if I'm mad at Marco because that's such a terrible thing to say or if I'm mad at John Goodman because he probably WILL die of a heart attack if he doesn't slim down a bit. Whatever the case, I've decided to take my anger out on Marco. Aside from telling everyone I know that if they see Marco in public, they should kick him in the ass (that reminds me, if any of you see Marco in public, kick him in the ass), there really is only one proper way to combat Marco’s unjustified hatred of everyone’s favorite actor. I now present to you my pictorial tribute to a man who gives the gift of laughter to his fans, Indian leg-wrestling defeats to George Wendt, and pregnancy to women everywhere. Shomer fucking Shabbos.



















I totally would, too. Long live the King!