What might childhood have been like without Ernest P. Worrell?

Think about your favorite Jim Varney movie. Think real hard, and see if you can't find a reason to embrace the comedy of this crazy bastard.

If you're having trouble recalling his slapstick routine, let's take a little look at the work of this freewheelin' comedian.



My first introduction to Ernest came from a film about his playful jaunt in the state penitentiary, "Ernest Goes to Jail."

Ernest was selected for jury duty, and as TV Guide might say, hilarity ensued.

It got funnier every time I watched him chewing on this wad of ink-stained paper. Nervous son of a gun bit down too hard on a ball-point pen.

The judge was all like, "Dear Christ. Are you all right?"

Ernest just flashes this shit-eating grin, ink-stained from cheek to cheek. Classic.



And that wasn't the half of it. There was some maniac doppelganger in prison--Mr. Nash--who hatched this scheme to trade places with Ernest.

If he could just lure Ernest away from the rest of the jurors, he'd be in good shape. Just in time to make sweet moves on Ernest's red-headed ladyfriend.



Brothers from different mothers.

Lord knows if there was one thing Ernest was all about, it was chasin' tail. But usually, he was all suave about it. He was all like, "aw shucks, Charlotte." And she was putty in his hands.

Mr. Nash, however, was a date rapist. And Charlotte was in big trouble. Mr. Nash was one mean denim-sportin' machine...with a boner.



But no match for Ernest P. Worrell, ELECTRO-MAN!

When Ernest wasn't wielding the powers of lightning at his fingertips, he was spending time as a volunteer summer camp counselor at Camp Kikakee.

"Ernest Goes to Camp" was my favorite Ernest movie, by far. The viewer feels so terrible for the misfit kids who have to attend summer camp with the regular kids.



Now, sometimes these troubled kids are punk bitches who have it coming to them. They totally act like jerks, but the other kids at the camp are complete toolbags.

Ernest, of course, embraces everyone with open arms. He wants them to unite. The misfit kids do find common ground with the regular kids: fuckin' with Ernest.



"Who farted?"

But the real story emerges behind the scene, when we find that one unscrupulous developer has plans for Camp Kikakee. Rape and scrape.

This is when Ernest comes into the picture. Stately as hell. He's all like, "over my dead body."

And they're all like, "who dat?"

It ends with explosions and parachuting turtles biting bad guys on the ass. Here's a challenge: find me a more fitting ending? Give up? Exactly.



Now, for a real treat, how about combining your two favorite holidays with Ernest P. Worrell?

You know what I'm talking about. It's not enough that this overachieving good-ole-boy saves Camp Kickakee and electrocutes a multiple felon.

Dude's going to singlehandedly SAVE CHRISTMAS.

And why not? He's proven his abilities. The film includes a bevy of characters played by Varney. This is him at his most badass level.



Game ON, bitches.

He befriends a seemingly nice young girl in his quest, who turns out to be quite the troubled youth. This appears to be a recurring theme in his films.

He does what he can to save Christmas. He really does try but guess what? Bitch tries to steal Santa's bag of Christmas gifts!

Et tu Brute?

And let's not forget his Halloween gift to all of us: "Ernest Scared Stupid."

This cinematic masterpiece features trolls with HUGE heads. To say these snot-nosed freaks traumatized me as an eight year old would be no understatement.



"Yippie Ki Yay Motherfucker."

The secret to mopping the floor with these bad boys? Here's a hint: it's not miAk. Put on your thinking caps.

Last but not least, let's talk about Ernest's co-stars. These two guys were always cooking up something disgusting in the way of acting.

They were in his entourage. Rumor has it dude would not make a film without getting these crazy gentlemen involved. These bad boys was icing on the cake:



Chuck and Bobby. Good luck getting this image out of your dreams.

They say only the good die young, and they're damn right. I don't know what was more shocking: his untimely death, or the fact that he was a smoker.

It didn't quite pack the punch of learning that Pee Wee was a perverted dude, but it was a strange thought.

I mean, who could picture Ernest with a pack of Newports, puffing away between takes. It's just crazy.


But this is crazier. Yes, yes, that's really him. This was shortly before cancer took him.

I'm going to do myself a favor and never use Google image search again. This picture pretty much ruined my week.

I'd much rather end this with a much more youthful, care-free photo of our man.



Ah, that's more like it. Rest in peace, my friend. Thanks for the laughs...oh, what's that? Do I know what you mean?

Indeed I do, good sir. Indeed I do.