Hello from room 109 at the American Motel in beautiful Pixley, California. As “America’s Funnyman,” I’m very excited about the opportunity to earn cash writing this new column. My fans know that I am the hardest-working comedian on the circuit, doing nearly 400 shows last year alone. However, fans who have seen legal documents from the divorce and bankruptcy proceedings against me (sold on commemorative hamburger-shaped 2GB flash drives by an unscrupulous souvenir vendor in the parking lots of the venues that hosted my shows) know that my live performance income is garnished by my creditors. It is through side jobs—such as writing this column, stuffing envelopes, or washing cars—that I am able to stay somewhat afloat. I am thankful for this opportunity.
Alright then. Anyone in the field of law enforcement knows firsthand that the preferred deodorant of date-rapists is AXE. Their abrasive advertisements are targeted to the types of young men who rove in drunken packs looking for something—anything—to do with their penises. Judging from the noxious, prurient nature of their recent campaigns (a barrage of leering references to “cleaning balls” and “dirty gear”), AXE is completely tapped into the language and lifestyle of these dunced-out amateur pharmacists. This particular demographic blew out their nasal glands years ago, and thus is not instantly offended by the “extreme” scent of the chemical slurry that AXE cooks up in their hell-factory… a fetid, sugared-and-fermented-manure stench, which acts as a virtual mating call to the TV-addled, party-fried pig girls whom these dopes are trying to fill with their tainted seed.
AXE’s master chemist seems to be developing their various fragrances by dumping varying amounts of Hawaiian Punch and/or Country Time Lemonade into the trough-style urinals at Dodger Stadium during the top of the 9th inning—the end product an amalgam resulting from the capture and replication of the the resulting combination of odors. The product’s appeal would seem limited to the unintiated, yet, almost as a challenge, AXE’s cynical marketing team is set on expanding their market beyond the lucrative world of beat-driven dolts. These “pied pipers of shit” hope to convert innocents through flashy free entertainment, lending their name and money to dubious “viral” comedy videos—recruiting third-string (one step up from me) comedians to disgrace themselves in vaguely obscene short films.
AXE recklessly attaches their brand to movie premieres, snowboarding events, comedy tours, and musical concerts, trying to latch on to any pre-existing cache created by the artists themselves. (I use the term “artist” very loosely when referring to the clowns associated with the “AXE Concert Series;” most of these bands have long since lost their artificially created mini-buzz and are now better suited to a career disposing of postanalysis stool samples.)
It is a sad fact of modern society that the visual artist has been unfairly marginalized. In order to commemorate this medium, and in keeping with the spirit of good-natured fun and light-hearted ribbing that has characterized my relationship with our friends at AXE, I am curating and judging an Unofficial AXE-Themed Art Competition. We are asking artists to submit original artwork incorporating 1) AXE products, and 2) images of authentic sexual predators procured from the National Sex Offender Registry website. [Please do not include the names or locations of the sex offenders in your artwork.] Everything can be submitted electronically via links posted on Twitter and hashtagged “#FunArtContest.” The prize, if any, is a combination of personal satisfaction, and soap and washcloths, perhaps autographed by celebrities who are part of the anti-AXE movement. This contest is unofficial, unaffiliated with Unilever and/or AXE, and is not to be confused with existing authorized promotional campaigns for AXE deodorant. Complete details at twitter.com/funartcontest.