Hedberg with an ‘e’

I miss Mitch Hedberg. I know, I know. Everybody does. But hey… I’m feeling nostalgic. I still find myself mimicking him. I’ll be sitting in my dining room, reading the label of the ketchup for my hotdogs –

“I don’t like calling them hot-dogs, man. Like, dogs, man. Like, Hey, you wanna see my dog? He’s hot. Hehehe Yeah, Man, He’s a hot dog, man… Now let’s eat him with a little ketch-up.”

Clearly, I’m not Mr. Hedberg. But that cadence is fucking addictive. He just let it flow. He’d throw that laugh in the middle of it, and the audience would laugh, and then he’d laugh at the audience, and then the audience would laugh at him laughing at the audience, and then he’s right back into questioning the necessity of bringing ink and paper into this.

I miss where I was when I heard him the first time. He takes me back to it, almost. I was a teenager or maybe just a little older. I was looking for myself. I was searching far and wide – inside and outside – and I kept finding myself in a bad way emotionally; I’d put on one of Mitch’s albums (Yeah, that’s right. I feel like I can call him Mitch like I know him), and he’d just make me fucking giggle. Sometimes that giggle would build into a full bellied laugh, but just that giggle, man. That first couple of jokes where he’d start talking, and you’d just shake your head at the corniness, and then he’d hit you again, and you just couldn’t help yourself, and then… It would just keep coming. An hour full of one-liners, two-liners, three at the most. He’d be all over the map, and he’d keep you right there with him. When people fell off the wagon, he’d gather them all back up again with something like, “Yeah, fuck that joke, man.” That acknowledgement of the crowd made everyone get right back on board.

I could go on and on.

Instead, if you’ve got a couple of hours, and you feel like mourning the loss of greatness one more time with the people who loved him…

Listen to this – with Doug Stanhope and Lynn Shawcroft

Los Enchiladas – Mitch’s movie! Starring the likes of Dave Attell and Todd Barry, as well as some people I don’t recognize. Oh Marc Maron‘s in it. Check it out, man. Hehehe Yeah.

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The Correct Way to Hold a Spatula

The Correct Way to Hold a Spatula: A How-to for Both Professional Cookers and the Not, This is Easy to be Reading Text and Shall Have Instructed Your Hands on Their Journeyment Through to the Flapping of Fewer Jacks if You Should So Desire.

 

Firstly and mostly, there is a rumor out floating abound that means you should have been holding a spatula with an upturned fist, like so.

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Well, my friendly miser, I tell you that this is incorrectly done as such. It is to be pinching with the floodle – that’s the name of the handle – pinch it in between your middle and ringer fingers, see?

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and then you should be wrapping your hand around that floodle – say it with me now: Floodle. Floodle. Good. – wrap those hands around in both of each of the directions.

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Close up that gappy with your thumb there, and you’re in busy bees. You’ll be scraping dinner from the ceiling in no time half.

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Now that you have to be getting yourself firmly comfortable with our patented Spatulator grip, I will tell you how to be going about making the pansnakes. Did my mouth say snakes? I must be halving a stroke, my crumple mix-em-ups. I floundered countless gravy while crowdfunding my last disaster.

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Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

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Wow, you’re doing great!

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That golden beauty could be on the frontish cover of Spatularata Magazine!

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Twice! Twice, can you believe it!

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Wow. Just Wow.

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Already, my hangled bambler, you should have been completing this disher several minutes prior. Hopefulating that you’ve learned something today, and as always, Conflatulatory gracious in the grand Spatulutions, and this does do not have representatives of Spatulica Inc. LLC ABC. All Rights Reserved Inagodadavita.

 

Good some day,

The Hofflebrock.