Mitch Hedburg, R.I.P

From mitchhedberg.net

April 1, 2005
To All of Mitch’s Fans,
We are heartbroken to let you know that Mitch passed away on Wednesday, March 30, 2005. He dedicated his life to comedy and bringing joy to his fans. Mitch loved all of you.
We ask that you remember Mitch through his comedy - let him make you laugh, enjoy life and love one another.
The Hedberg Family

I don't understand why I heard about this first by word of mouth. If my friend Sam hadn't told me about it yesterday who knows when I would have found out.

I guess Mitch's career was just not long enough to be widely recognized as the brilliant comedian that he was.

If you've never heard Mitch's comedy, you really should. Mitch had a totally different style than any comedian I had ever heard before, its a shame he had to die so suddenly, after being in the business for only about four years.

Here's a bunch of Mitch jokes:

You know they call corn on the cob, corn on the cob, but that's how it comes out of the ground, man. They should call that corn, they should call every other version corn off the cob. It's not like if you cut off my arm you would call it Mitch. Then reattach it and call me Mitch-all-together...

I like swiss cheese. It's the only cheese you can draw with a pencil and identify.

I got an ant farm. Them fellas don't grow shit.

I went to the store to buy a candle-holder, but they were out. So I bought a cake.

I haven't slept for ten days, because that would be too long.

Last week I helped my friend stay put. It's a lot easier than helping someone move. I just went over to his house and made sure that he did not start to load shit into a truck.

I got my hair highlighted, because I felt some strands were more important than others.

I want to be a race car passenger: just a guy who bugs the driver. "Say man, can I turn on the radio? You should slow down. Why do we gotta keep going in circles? Can I put my feet out the window? Man, you really like Tide..."

I wrote a letter to my dad - I wrote, "I really enjoy being here," but I accidentally wrote rarely instead of really. But I still wanted to use it so I crossed it out and wrote, "I rarely drive steamboats, dad - there's a lot of shit you don't know about me. Quit trying to act like I'm a steamboat operator." This letter took a harsh turn right away...

...and then at the end of the letter I like to write "P.S. - this is what part of the alphabet would look like if Q and R were eliminated.

I got in an argument with a girlfriend inside of a tent. That's a bad place for an argument, because then I tried to walk out, and had to slam the flap. How are you supposed to express your anger in this situation? Zip it up real quick?

I type at 101 words a minute. But it's in my own language.

I think Bigfoot is blurry, that's the problem. It's not the photographer's fault. Bigfoot is blurry. And that's extra scary to me, because there's a large, out-of-focus monster roaming the countryside. Run. He's fuzzy. Get outta here.

I have an underwater camera just in case I crash my car into a river, and at the last minute I see a photo opportunity of a fish that I have never seen.

One time a guy handed me a picture of himself, and he said, "Here's a picture of me when I was younger." Every picture of you is of when you were younger. Here's a picture of me when I am older. You son of a bitch, how'd you pull that off? Let me see that camera...