jackassworld

This one, frankly, is embarrassing to me. I used to think I did a good Irish accent, but apparently not. Jesus Christ it’s McHorrible.

In the later days of Big Brother after jackass started, I discovered the Universal Life Church online. With the click of a button, you can become a minister. So I did. And now I’m a minister. I can marry people, among other things. But marrying people is boring. So for one of my first duties (no pun intended) as a man of the cloth, I decided to marry a couple of poops. Tyler, our art director, sat on the toilet and took a dump. Then Steve the intern sat on the same toilet and pooped on Tyler’s poop. Then I married their poops. I was wearing the same costume I’m wearing in this clip, and presumably affected the same crappy Irish accent. Then we flushed the toilet and sent the newly wedded poops on their honeymoon.

For my next godly stunt, I baptized Rick. Or maybe Rick wanted me to baptize him? I don’t remember. What I do remember is we really needed God back on our side at the time because everyone was getting hurt. I had performed a Satanic ritual one night a few months before—actually “performed” isn’t the right word, “botched” is more like it. You know, lit some candles, drew a pentagram on the ground, burned a bible, read some incantations, etc.. But of course we were wasted when we did it and we fucked it up every which way. Shortly thereafter, everyone on staff started getting hurt. And, as you’ll read in the article [originally printed in Big Brother issue #78], I was to blame. So we decided to baptize Rick to get God back on our side.

It may have helped Rick out in the short run, but I think in turning to the Light, I pissed off Satan. And Satan decided to use the automobile to express his displeasure. First, he used a taxi in Philadelphia to take Chris Nieratko out. Chris had to undergo shoulder surgery for that one. And then I suffered perhaps the worst injury of all: Satan used a big black SUV to smote me while I was riding my bicycle home from work one day. BAM! My left leg was shattered, major surgery was required and I spent a week in the hospital. And then during the first week of my bed ridden convalescence, some assholes flew planes into the World Trade Center. “Great,” I thought as I laid there in a pill fog watching the destruction on the pull-out couch, “we’re being attacked and I can’t move.”

So, needless to say, me, God, and Satan don’t really talk to each other anymore.

This footage, incidentally, was a part of the library of never-before-seen Big Brother stuff that was intended for our fifth video.

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