Thursday, May 16, 2013

A Fart for Ben Affleck

Heya, folks. Brandon here. In case any of you were wondering, Bryan does about 90% of all our webcomics. Me, I still haven't quite mastered the art of "digital painting."
Which is why today I bring you a short story about the (very true) time I farted on Ben Affleck at a poker table and blamed him for it. Enjoy...

I was fresh out of college, jobless, and excited to be living in Denver for the 2008 Democratic Convention. Summer was in full swing and the city was abuzz with excitement. The soon-to-be president was coming to town and local businesses were happily raking in the profits. So were the strippers.

I, however, was neither fat-cat politico nor a scintillating pole dancer. I was a penniless writer, and not a very good one, at that. Which is why I was sitting at home, perusing the event calendar for the convention that week. As it turned out, there was a celebrity charity poker game that night, benefitting war vets whose time overseas had earned them permanent paralysis. There was a suggested entry fee of $500. I called the event organizer to get a better definition of “suggested.” The nice woman was irritated, but explained it would have been considered “illegal gambling” to actually demand $500 for an entry fee, but it was still highly encouraged. She begrudgingly admitted that a person could technically enter the game for free. But that wasn’t advertised, presumably to keep the riff-raff at bay.

I paid three dollars at the door. And before you go thinking me a cheap bastard, three bucks was ten percent of my bank account.

I walked into the club level of Coors Field, which had been transformed from its typical use as a room full of beer-soaked millionaires and buffets, into a room full of beer-soaked millionaires, buffets, and poker tables.

Half the oval room was occupied by empty gaming tables. The other half was filled with caterers and tastefully stocked food stands. Charitable people milled about, looking comfortable, while a dozen or so paraplegics wheeled around the room offering up hands from their chrome chairs. A few mid-tier celebrities were posing for cameras against a backdrop. Ben Affleck grinned into a lightning storm of flashbulbs. Across the room, Richard Dreyfuss was attacking a buffet table with more starved fervor than Jaws himself.

I worked my way to the bar.

“How much for a draught?” I asked.

The bartender smirked. “It’s an open bar, sir.”

The man beside me laughed. “For the money we paid to get in here, it ought to be.”

I nodded coolly. “In that case, let’s forego the cheap shit. Fat Tire and a Glenfiddich, if you please, barkeep.”

A few rounds later I was moderately intoxicated, much more comfortable. I hoped that the tang of alcohol would overpower the stench of my covert proletariatism. I sat at the bar, talking Warren Zevon with a man who owned a hip-hop radio station. He hated radio hip-hop even more than I did, which made up for the fact that he was drinking hard lemonade.

A voice crackled over the loudspeaker, informing the players to take their seats.

I pried myself away from the bar, looking at the little seat assignment card I’d been given at the door, and started wending my through the jubilant crowd. And just when I thought I was headed in the right direction—somewhere between a Salvadoran food cart and the men’s crapper—I nearly dumped my beer onto a pleasant-smelling midget. I did a double-take, which revealed two things. The first, was that the woman I’d just run into was not a little person, she was actually of average height, and I cursed my inebriated perception. The second, was that I recognized her.

“Hey,” I said. “I know you. I remember you from…well…you’ve been in stuff, right?”

She said nothing, but gave me a sweet smile.

I pointed a finger at her and recall saying the following, which was undoubtedly sloppy. “Oh, crap. Yeah, Sarah Silverman, right? You’re really funny. I love the crass shit. How’s it going?”

I offered her my most charming smile.

“Good, thanks. But I’ve really gotta pee before the game starts! Sorry!”

With that, she skirted me like a professional running back and disappeared into the Women’s room.

I shrugged. Then I thought of Jimmy Kimmel’s jiggling body and shuddered.

I took my seat as the tournament began, maybe twenty tables worth of players in all. The game was a joke. Despite the handful of “professional” World Series players attendant, the event was sloppy. The clock was too fast, the blind increases inadequately spaced. Our dealer was a boob, an admitted carnival huckster who’d been contracted to deal poker specifically for this event. For the first ten minutes I had to point out rules and help interpret hands. My cards were shit, but fortunately the scotch still flowed freely. I hit a couple lucky hands and managed to stay alive.

I was moved to a new table as the field shrunk and found myself seated between Richard Dreyfuss’s son and a guy who shared the same last name as me. Affleck was seated directly behind me at the next table, his back facing mine. I gave him a cursory glance. He just looked like some bearded joe in Chuck Taylors.

Son of Dreyfuss was a dandy prick, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, including poker prowess. I teased him about his terribly lucky full house, which had just gotten stomped by an even bigger full house.

“You’re going to need a bigger boat,” I said.

His dad stood looking on, scraping his paper plate clean with a Dorito.

“I don’t get it,” Son of Dreyfuss said irritably.

“Poker joke. A full house is called a ‘boat.’”

“Oh. Yeah, I know that.”

The man beside me laughed, made note of our identical last names, and told me he was a regular on Saturday Night Live. I admitted I wasn’t a fan, but that it was a pretty sweet gig.

The beer and whiskey mustn’t have agreed with my stomach, because a terrible gas bubble was forcing itself through my guts.

What can I say? I cut the cheese. It was silent, but godawful toxic. The whole table caught the fallout, and when accusatory glances started being thrown around, I simply hooked a thumb over my shoulder to the movie star sitting behind me.

“It was Affleck,” I said, with darkest conviction.

Not everybody laughed, but at least Seth did. He had obviously seen Pearl Harbor and knew what Affleck was capable of in those days. We didn’t talk much after that because I got knocked out of the game in the next hand, but Seth Meyers was a damn decent guy.

I wished everyone good luck, and made my way back to the bar. I regretted not giving Dreyfuss Jr. the finger, just on principle.

I looked around the room. Off in the far corner, Montell Williams sat erect at his table with an huge stack of chips in front of him, and an even huger bodyguard standing behind. I didn’t blame him. In a roomful of affluent gringos, a fellow couldn’t be too careful. I ordered another round.

A few minutes later I stumbled outside to hail a cab. The lot valet pushed me aside and gave the taxi to a Congressman.

I started walking.


And that's that. Whatever that is.



Beer: Ace Ale
Music: Joe Bonamassa


  1. Ha! I have never seen that many famous people in one place at once. NOPE.

  2. Rubbing gas with the famous folks, nice

  3. First, seeing as I'm the third comment here, I feel like I should go back to bed. Second, Ben Affleck and farts; that's one scary post.

  4. Bahahaha! Brandon this is awesome. I think it's frickin' fabulous you blamed Ben Affleck for your fart! I couldn't think of a bigger tool to take the blame either.

    OK so all of my friends and family make fun of me for this but I am terrified of Ben Affleck. I get this wicked gut feeling whenever I see him- I just know he's a psycho! And one day, when the truth comes out, (and I'm 100% positive it will) I can't wait to say, "I knew it. I told you so!"

    PS Although I can't stand him, I really like his wife. I hope she gets out before its too late. I keep waiting to hear an announcement that she dropped his creeper ass!

  5. That is awesome!!! I'm sure Affleck is full of hot air anyway.

  6. You should have made a scene. The tabloids would make a killing off it. Headline: "Ben Affleck farts at charity event for children who can't fart."

  7. I bet this experience was the genesis for your Slim Dyson character -- down and out shlub among the rich and famous beautiful people -- amiright?

  8. A real man would claim his own. And how could you be so silly? Celebrities don't fart!

  9. Pretty brave and bold and funny story Brandon. Once one of books becomes a bestseller maybe another wanna writer would share in his blog his story about how he blamed you for setting fire on some average height midget :)

    You didnt take a lady in red Sari for this event with you. Good that there was no President in this poker game. Else secret service would have got into trouble while you would be negotiating with ABC,NBC to share your story :)

    I hate seeing my wedding album for one reason. My dad isnt a celebrity but a highly influential person in the city so we had lot of celebrities and politican icons as guests, and somehow he didnt make it "invitation only" kinda thing so my album has pictures of bunch of nobodies from nowhere standing next to every "invited guest" in every picture overcrowding and overshadowing family and friends.
    FYI: Indian weddings invites usually the whole village :)

  10. Hilarious! Dense he didn't get the bigger boat reference. Hey, now you can say you're almost a famous movie star poker player.

  11. Now that's a fecking good story, I would have loved a punt at an event like that!

  12. Wow that must have been grand, he had the stink of pearl harbour still on him anyway, so why not add to it haha

  13. I love that you took the "$500 optional" invite as truly an option. Very bold choice. What an adventure hobnobbing with all the celebs. Too bad Dreyfus' kid was a putz. Probably would of been way more fun if Sarah Silverman was sitting there.

  14. This just made my day! I love your balls in getting in for $3 and rubbing elbows with celebrities. I think we forget that celebs aren't perfect like the big screen lets us think. They fart and have to sit on the john just like me and you! Love that you blamed him. That just cracked me up!

  15. Great story! I don't play poker but would have loved to been there watching it all unfold.

  16. At least you got free alcohol! Well technically you paid 3 dollar for your beer that night...which is pretty sweet.

  17. BRANDON ~

    >>...“Hey,” I said. “I know you. I remember you from…well…you’ve been in stuff, right?”

    Ha!-Ha! Man, you really know how to stoke a celebrity's ego.

    >>...I simply hooked a thumb over my shoulder to the movie star sitting behind me. “It was Affleck,” I said, with darkest conviction.

    Oooh! There's simply nothing worse than a duck's fart!

    Well, Brandon, it certainly sounds as if you got more than your money's worth in booze and memories. Nice play, Brother!

    ~ D-FensDogg
    'Loyal American Underground'

  18. Sounds like a delightful evening... Not everyone gets to rub elbows with celebrities! Even fewer get to blame flatulence on one.

  19. That sounds like one of the best $3 evenings I could imagine.

  20. I imagine two of the greatest words in the English language for you guys is "open bar". At least back then. It doesn't matter how much you paid to get in. I hate the words "suggested donation".

  21. BAHAHAHAHA!!! Now THAT'S getting your money's worth! :)

  22. Sounds like a fun time....except for the toxicity!

  23. Celebrity fart stories! It could be the next reality TV rage! Or not. But I'd watch it. On TV, not in a live audience.

  24. This story is brilliant Bryan, is it actually true yeah? So good haha, absolutely amazing that you paid 3 dollars and didn't need to pay the 500 dollar fee, has to be the best night for value that you can possibly get. Just an insanely awesome story, shame about Sarah Silverman though, I'd have tried to pretend that I was an SNL fan to that guy so I respect your courage to admit you'd never seen it before!

  25. The part that gets me is you know, that part where you say "(very true)". First I'm like, hah, having a story where Ben Affleck gets farted on is already gold.. But then it wanders into Sarah Silverman, Seth Meyers, and behind it all you've even got Richard f***ing Dreyfuss pigging out and Montel Williams being a badass, and I'm just here like: holy poop, I need to get out more.

  26. This is both the best fart story and celebrity encounter story I've ever read. It's outrageously funny; you two have fast become among my favorite comedians. Ben Affleck is the perfect person to blame a fart on; he's such a blah dufus. And I love that you wish you'd given Dreyfuss Jr. the finger. I once met one of Dreyfuss' nieces. She's dull and normal, and she described him the same.


  27. I hate beer-soaked millionaires... They remind me of what I'm not. The son of Dreyfuss doesn't get a Jaws joke related to poker? What an idiot. Probably doesn't have time to use his brain being occupied with spending all that money. No, we're not jealous. After all, all the rich folks in the world keep assuring me money wouldn't make me happy and I take their word for it. Pearl Harbor stinks, so Ben was guilty, plain and simple.

  28. "I hoped that the tang of alcohol would overpower the stench of my covert proletariatism." Hahaha!

  29. Loved the story, Brandon :) Just the fact that you got into a $500 event for $3 means you're awesome. And you are a thousand times cooler than me...I would have acted more like Dreyfus' kid most likely :)

  30. Montell Williams doesn't need his own bodyguard. He's got his own personal psychic that can tell the future. She's got an accuracy of maybe in a longshot.

  31. Leave it to Ben Affleck to stink up the place....

  32. This is so crazy, I'm not sure if its even a true story. That tends to happen with basically everything that you guys post. Either way, it was hilarious. It's not like you could admit it though, right? Blame the guy closest to you, who can't deny it.

  33. Ah, you're "that guy" I see, or at least you were at one point. A bit of a liar, thief, low-life, democrat, and a cheat all in one. Have you improved since then? It might seem so. Do you regret your voting choice yet? A lot of Dems are still in denial.

    1. My only regret in life is the decision to move to Chicago unarmed.

  34. “You’re going to need a bigger boat" is the funniest thing I've come across all week.

  35. Now, don't you wish you'd gotten busted in that poker ring with Maguire.

  36. This is true? Seriously? I love the line about loving the "crass crap."

  37. Affleck is not one of my fave's so the thought of you blaming him, well, that just fits so smashingly well.

  38. I would kill to be at an open bar. Not that I could drink all that much what with my Asian blood. :(

  39. We're gonna need a bigger boat!

    Seriously, how can ANYONE not get that joke, let alone the son of the Star of the movie.

    Douche McGhee IV

  40. Please, sir. they prefer "pleasant-smelling little vertically challenged oh yeah, I'm short person." You should be applauded for donating even three dollars. A lesser scumbag would have just waltzed in without a donation at all.
    I'm pretty sure "Son of Dreyfuss was a dandy prick" is the opening of a Mumford and Sons song.
    May I be so bold as to request this story be animated? Certainly, I do not have the skills to bring it to life, but surely, someone in your mass of followers ought to have such skills.

  41. OMG. I haven't read this blog in so long I forgot how truly awesome it is! I'm so behind on all the beer gossip! Great post! I'll try and be a better reader/fan this time. ;-)

  42. Wow...You got free drinks, free poker, and to rub elbows with the wealthy and privileged? Sounds awesome to me!

  43. This might just be my favourite story of all time x

  44. I am truly in awe. I would have loved to have seen the look on the face of the doorman as you tossed him $3 instead of the expected $500.
    It must have been hilarious