By Zack Mast
A friend of mine, a fellow confrere, if you will, of the Cornell comedy scene, comes from a proud tradition of Hollywood writers. His dad, in the best years of his career, came up with those crazy situations where Urkel — yes, that Urkel — would feel compelled to say words like “cheese” or “fallopian tubes.” As long as Urkel had crazy vowels to pronounce, and all within twenty-two minutes, Mr. My-Friend’s-Dad could cash in that paycheck and bring home the Family Matters bacon.
Now he writes books for a living, and his life could never be better.