Ernest P. Worrell Chroma

     "Hey Vern!  Looky here, what I found tucked way back behind the water heater.  A genuine Chroma Canvas of yours truly.  You see that?  Go ahead, take a gander.

     Ernest P. Worrell, in the absolute prime of my physical specification.  Pretty striking, ain't it?  An effigy of pure manliness.  Notice how the light catches the brim of the old trusty khaki lid? And that denim vest—that’s a timeless look, Vern. They don’t just weave polyester-blend magic like that anymore. Know what I mean?

     Yup.  Just feast your eyes on the total package manifested before your very eyes.  A beacon of responsibility and restraint.  It’s the look of deeply intellectual contemplation.  Yes, sir.  One look into my polylactide eye and you’ll see the sheer intensity of a guy who knows exactly how to rewire an automatic transmission with nothing but a wire coat hanger and a pouch of Big League Chew.  Yes, sir. I am a specimen of pure, unadulterated American ingenuity.

     Of course, the camera guy at the Department of Motor Vehicles did want me to smile, but I said, 'No sir, buddy-boy.  The public wants the real Ernest. Raw... Unfiltered... Majestic...  I'm thinking about getting it blown up—life-sized, maybe double life-sized—and hanging it right over your fireplace so you can feel safe at night. Know what I mean, Vern?"