David Lapham, Props to my Sugar-Daddy and Dick Trumps Deaf

Thursday, March 17, 2005

I am so happy for David Lapham because the dude is tearing up Detective Comics right now. For those of you just being exposed to David I think you need to shuffle around your reading list and put Stray Bullets on it. Stray Bullets is written and drawn by Lapham on his own label, El Capitan. It is hands down one of the best comic series ever printed, is Eisner winning and features some of the best written characters in seemingly unrelated plots at first that converge as the series builds. Every single issue has a moment that just grabs you; either repulses you, makes you laugh or cry. It’s the kind of book that sparks hours of discussion, heated arguments and philosophical musings on the seemingly random events that make up your life. So pick them up and I promise you that you will not be disappointed. So far we have: Stray Bullets Volume 1, Volume 2, Volume 3, Volume 4, Volume 5, Volume 6, Volume 7, and Volume 8.

After two months of linking someone purchased something from Amazon from my site. And not only that, said person used the search box button and bought some speakers and a copy of Goodbye, Chunky RIce. Whoever you are, thank you. I now have half the money I need to purchase Fables & Reflections.

Ben lived on our floor Sophomore year in college. He was deaf his entire life but got some cochlear implants put in which succeeded in one thing, at least, and that was lowering my faith in cochlear implant technology. The kid still couldn’t hear shit.

He was a bit of a sorry case at first, we all kind of felt bad for him and gave him the super special treatment. He was rooming with our friend Eric and Eric didn’t seem to mind at first. It was difficult at times but he dealt with it. I mean, the kid was deaf, you know? And being deaf (in the non RUN-DMC way) was not cool.

He was a die-hard Pats fan which conflicted a bit my whole “heart bleeding green J-E-T-S Jets, Jets, Jets thing”. Whenever the Pats were playing, especially when they played the Jets, he would hoot and holler quite loud, deaf person loud, with every play in the Pats’ favor. It was LOUD. And he couldn’t really speak that well, so instead of saying “Patriots” he would say “Payna”. Payna at the top of his lungs, while jumping up and down and clapping, right in your face. But we dealt with it. I mean, the kid was deaf, you know? And being deaf (in the non Ladies Love Cool J Bigger and Deafer way) was not cool.

Then Eric started hearing weird noises in the middle of the night coming from Ben’s bed. Heavy breathing coupled with subdued bed squeaking, leading to a crescendo of hard pounding and raspy breathing. Ben would occasionally masturbate in bed, with Eric there. I guess cause he was deaf, he didn’t realize how loud he was. And Eric dealt with it. I mean, the kid was deaf, you know? And being deaf (in the non Rhyming and Stealing way) was not cool.

Then he picked up a habit of standing behind you while you sat in the study, doing homework, looking at what you were writing despite not being in the class, breathing heavy and rubbing his penis through his army green sweatpants.

Then he started getting violent towards Eric, yelling at him and throwing stuff.

Then he picked up some unhealthy obsession with Third Rock from the Sun and a half hour before it came on he would skip around the hall, clapping, chanting “Tir Rah!” over and over and over and over again.

Then he started sort of yelling at everyone on the floor and leaving messes in the bathroom and throwing trash all over the floor…

Well, deaf or not, being a dick trumped being deaf and something had to be done.

He had a vibrating bed that his alarm clock attached to, his bed would shake when it was time to wake. Well, his doorbell also attached to it. His wireless, battery powered doorbell attached by Velcro to the frame of his door.

One night, before he had a test, and after he went to bed, we stole his wireless doorbell, went into Nico from Rico’s room, turned off the lights and just started ringing his bell.

“AGHH! AGH!!! Who ha ma beh?”

Banging on the door.

“Gi me mah beh!”

After banging on the door for five minutes he went back to his room. Ten minutes later we’d press it again and start the whole thing over again. He didn’t sleep that night.

That pretty much started our pranking of Ben. It’s probably one of the things I will go to hell for but I honestly think I have a good case. The kid was a dick. A huge fucking dick. We couldn’t work on the floor because he was always skipping around, clapping and screaming the names to his favorite TV shows. And that was when he wasn’t masturbating on your shoulder. He was dirty and had no respect for other people. And he was a Pats fan, to boot.

Fuck that, he deserved what he got. But of course, the RA and resident director always came down hard on us when we fucked with him. But whenever we went to them with his problems they told us to be patient with him, he’s deaf. It sucks to have a disability but I just don’t think it gives you a free pass to do whatever the fuck you want.

Unless you’re in bubble. Bubble trumps dick.

equilibrium sucks, fanboy: Freshest Kids - A History of the B-Boy


posted by Jason at 7 Comments


Blogger Jay said...

That story's so similar to one of my own from college it's scary. Guy on a hall above me was also deaf (in the non-Russell Simmons Comedy Jam way) and was also a dick. I don't recall any sexual misadventures--didn't really know the guy all that well--but I do recall that he would skip class regularly since he had a volunteer from Disability Services (or whatever PC name it was called) take notes for him. But he did win the ultimate badge of honor for college--he created a catch phrase, albeit unintentionally. Whenever he was pissed/frustrated/mildly perturbed/walking into a room, he'd say, in a loud voice, "Ut da buk?" ("What the fuck?") Sheer poetic genius.

I still find myself occasionally saying "Ut da buk?" to this very day...but then, don't we all?

9:52 AM  
Blogger Jason said...

Damn. Ben used to skip class all the time as well, forgot about that one. His helper chick used to always complain about him when she came to our floor to deliver his notes, I guess he never even picked them up from her so she would deliver them to him, at first. She eventually stopped all together.

God, he was such a dick.

11:12 AM  
Blogger Guy LeCharles Gonzalez said...

I just put you a little closer to getting your book, finally crossing Goodbye, Chunky Rice and Love & Rockets, Vol. 1 off of my "To Buy" list.

1:57 PM  
Blogger Jorge Vega said...

In my ongoing study of what makes shit funny, I keep returning to minimalism.

"Bubble trumps dick."

That may easily be one the funniest three-word sentences/phrases I've ever read.

2:26 PM  
Blogger Jason said...

Much love.

Goodbye Chunky Rice is so damn good, so worth purchasing, enjoy it and thanks.

I dig your blog by the way, but you already know that (Guy recently reviewed WTOT and interviewed Josh over at CBC. He apparently runs 4 blogs, I haven't seen the other three yet but I'll check them now)

2:28 PM  
Blogger Jason said...


I believe in minimalism almost as strongly as I believe in the law of threes and the bringback. Those three things make comedy, but combining them amplifies. Observe.

"Bubble beats dick" not as funny as "Bubble trumps dick." Despite the sexual innuendo involved in beating dick, the use of the word "trumps" brings the reader back to the title and gives a sense of closure while at the same time using a less common word that put a brief picture of a real estate moguls in one's head.

I've been read a lot of Steve Martin lately. Steve Martin is comedy. You gotta read his essays and plays. If you want to really get into written comedic method, all you gotta do is study whatever this guy puts on paper. So damn good.

2:36 PM  
Blogger Jason said...

I think I fucked up every single verb tense in that last post. EDIT DAMNIT! I'M AN EDITOR!

2:37 PM  

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