Pay attention and brace yourself, Jared. This is going to be completely irrelevant and won't change the way you sleep at night...
*long exhale* That skit is what started it all.
(Please don't think of less of me for re-gifting, John. It escalated in an way I never imagined. )
My long time friend and coworker,
Ron L
whom, who? Whom? Whatever... worked on the opposite side of a wall from me were at lunch one day. We were discussing the cowbell skit and I was laughing my a** off. I thought it was comic gold.
I'm a big Christopher Walken fan and a bit of a Jimmy Fallon (the man is a saint. I can elaborate later) fan I thought the skit was hilarious. Probably the only Will Farrel work I can stand to watch (he plays the same toddler in everything he does).
One day Ron presented me with a birthday gift. My very own cowbell. There might have been a six pack of Bells Two Hearted Ale in the bag too. That's nunya bitness.
Needless to say, my wife got tired of it in three minutes and seven seconds flat. From that point on, it collected dust.
As a giveaway in the place that shall not be named, I offered up the cowbell as a second or third prize, I don't remember. It wasn't the grand prize. A boobie prize in the literal sense at best.
Low and behold, the poor bastid and non- grand prize winning
Redmeadow Knives
won the annoying, tiny tin trapezoid of noiseiness and I felt bad for him.
Yes. Felt bad but, I sent it anyway
.
I don't think he was expecting an actual musical cowbell and I don't think his fantastic bride has had to deal with him marching around the house like Spinner from Death to Smoochy banging the cowbell like a tone deaf, punch drunk moron with the timing of a wooden watch but, he accepted it, mounted it in his shop and built an empire around it.
Long live the Clan of the Cowbell and forever may it's knell be heard.