Ezra Dyer grew up in Maine on the wrong side of the tracks. And they weren’t even train tracks. They were raccoon tracks. There was no cable TV in Jefferson, and Dyer was forced to read “books.” The other children made fun of his name, calling him Azrael -- Gargamel’s cat on The Smurfs -- and Lezra. He vowed that one day they would no longer taunt him. One day, he would legally change his name to Mike.
In college, Dyer grew disillusioned with the North American way of life and became an expatriate, living in London for an entire semester. This period obviously informs many of his later works, particularly Bloody Hell Old Chap, There’s Custard on My Trousers.
After graduation Dyer moved to Boston. The next few years proved tumultuous: First his cable company was Cablevision, then it turned into AT&T, then it became ComCast. All of them would make devastating, empty promises about upgrading to digital. Still, he persevered, constantly chasing his dream of becoming a write star.
After writing a column for several years, Dyer moved to L.A. and became syndicated in more than 500 RMV scrolling electronic text displays. He won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006, when a Korean translation of his column caused Kim Jong Il to laugh so hard that he renounced Communism. Dyer is easily the most famous and important nonfiction writer in human history, having come within a Tom Bergeron cancellation of appearing on the third season of I’m a Celebrity: Get Me out of Here!
If you were to chart new-car horsepower over the past ten years, the graph would look like the one for Lindsay Lohan arrests: flat, flat, climbing a bit, and then suddenly skyrocketing toward vertical.
Last year, Ford, Chrysler, and GM sold 1,514,176 full-size pickup trucks. America’s car dealers also moved thousands of Toyota Tundras and Tacomas, Nissan Titans and Frontiers, and even 490 Dodge Dakotas.