Happy Birthday, Mr. Harris!

Today we celebrate the 29th anniversary of the birth of Mr. Michael "I-Don't-Speak-Southern" Harris. Much has already been said about Mr. Harris (just read any recent issue of Time Magazine, The New York Times, or High Times), but in honor of the birthday boy I thought I'd share with you a few fun facts that none of those Pulitzer Prize winning journalists seemed to have uncovered yet:

- Mr. Harris was on pace to break the world record during his last half-marathon, but he was disqualified when he left the designated course to rush into a burning building and save a classroom of trapped pre-schoolers and their pet turtle, Herschel.

- Mr. Harris' Elvis impersonation is so good that attorneys for Presley's estate are seeking a court order against him to "stop making The King seem like such a pussy in comparison".

- Mr. Harris spent three years studying martial arts from Tibetan monks, but after he killed two dozen rogue ninjas using only his bare hands and a shoelace, he used a hypnotist to make him forget his training so he could never be forced to use his skills for evil.

I always thought that Mr. Harris was paying me a compliment when he referred to me as being "Damn Near the Baddest Man Ever to Draw Breath." As it turns out, though, Mr. Harris is the Baddest Man Ever to Draw Breath, and he was just politely trying to tell me that I was invading his personal space.