ABOUT ME: ZACH ANNER
I’m Zach Anner and I was born prematurely with a condition called cerebral palsy, so I’ve gotten to zoom around in a wheelchair my whole life. If you aren’t disabled yet, it’s a blast, so give it a shot!
As a kid, my favorite movies growing up were Three Amigos, Pete’s Dragon, and Batman. Only now do I realize how awkward it must have been for strangers when a wide-eyed four year old in a wheelchair and rolled up and asked,”Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”
When I was five years old, I asked my physical therapist if I could kiss her breasts. She said no, and I’ve had the same luck with women ever since.
I grew up in Buffalo, but moved to Austin in 2005 to pursue my dream of becoming a post-modern day Will Smith, and have written theme songs for all his movies since he stopped doing that himself. My one for The Pursuit of Happyness is great to bump and grind to.
I met some of my best friends in Austin, where we formed a comedy troupe called Lark the Beard. We developed and released several episodes of our webseries The Wingmen, which got some attention but mostly just free dinnners from agents and managers. We released the remaining episodes as novels, renaming the series “A Song of Ice and Fire.”
In 2010, I put up an audition for Your OWN Show, Oprah’s search for the next TV star. It caught fire thanks to Reddit and an online army of internet warriors. Then I got my own travel show called Rollin’ with Zach, which had an awesome theme song from John Mayer. It was a lot of fun and immediately canceled.
Since then, I’ve been spending my days waiting for Mandy Moore to get divorced and developing Riding Shotgun.
ON AARON: “Aaron made a plaster mold of his penis once. That pretty much sums him up.”
ON BRAD: “Brad is my brother. I’d take a bullet for him—if there was table with a plate of free bullets on it.”
ON JOSH: “I like Josh. He fought in Iraq and got all the stars in both Mario Galaxies. Plus, he uses short, easy words like ‘how about lunch’ and ‘help yourself, Pooh.”
Like many babies, Brad was born in Belgium in a hospital-themed sex room in the back of an old church now run by a group of Armenian hooker-nuns. And though the identity of his mother was never revealed to him, the sisters filled that role happily and passed to him all the information they possessed. He was taught how to kill and/or please man in a thousand different ways and was shown what parts of them would be useful to eat or make stuff out of if ever there was a zombie attack. But zombies would be something Brad would never have to fear.
On the morning of his 12th birthday he was skipping through a meadow when he came upon sister Mary-Sharita who was in the middle of a spring, washing her boobs in the cool mountain water. Sensing him, she turned and covered herself in a poncho she had placed on a nearby rock.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, straightening her Danish Sombrero.
“I wanted to see where the sun sleeps, but it always wakes up too soon.” Said Brad, a moment before his heart exploded in his chest.
As he fell to the ground, Mary-Sharita ran to him, her breasts jiggling in her poncho like two men in oversized helmets jumping up and down on a trampoline under a quilt. He was dead by the time she got to him.
In 2006 Brad moved to Austin Texas, where he started doing video stuff.
ON JOSH: “He just lights up a room when he walks in. He’s just one of those guys. I’d say he’s the princess of the group, but not a bratty princess waiting for his prince. More like one of those empowered princess that have recently become more popular. He’s like one of those, but like when they’re on vacation from fighting monsters and spend their time trying on hot new outfits.”
ON AARON: “Start with nothing and then add a face to it…and then take away the face.”
ON ZACH: “I met Zach about a week ago. So far he seems pretty cool.”
I’ve been editing the Riding Shotgun promo video for the last 48 hours straight, so I’ll just get to the marrow of this thing. I was conceived in the seventh row of Van Halen’s Dallas concert during their sold-out “5150” tour with new lead singer, Sammy Hagar. It was Eddie Van Halen’s prime, as we all know. He was running around blowing those smoke rings from the cigarette he kept on his guitar while he played ‘Eruption’ in striped overalls. Remember how good he was at that? With the smoke rings and the overalls? Yeah, me too. Anyway, sometime around the opening keyboard notes for ‘Dreams’ my mom seduced a guy in a “One Tequila…Two Tequila…Three Tequila…Floor” t-shirt, named Mr. Marquis. Nine months later, I was me.
I led a typical American childhood and did the usual American childhood things. By age 7, I was a barback at the Midnight Rodeo in Waco, Texas, working mostly weekends and Willie Nelson concerts to pay for school. Even at that age, I knew one day I wanted to be Internet famous. I’d sit back and daydream about people using their Pentiums to follow me on social networking that didn’t exist yet. But, it was all for naught; my family wanted me to be an aerospace engineer. “We’re going to the moon one day,” they’d say.
It was in 2004 when I told father I’d decided to move to Austin to pursue filmmaking. As I explained my plan, he listened intensely while sipping rum and coke from a jumbo Taco Cabana cup he’d found in someone’s house. “Aaron,” he blurped, “it all sounds thought out and kick-ass. Good job.” The force of his words made him oscillate back and forth. “But, remember this:” he warned, “some plans are fool proof, and some plans are 80-proof.” He then fed the rest of his drink to our Husky, Peter the Great, and drove to work.
In Austin, I started a production company called LARK THE BEARD with a few guys and an up-and-coming comic called Zatch Anner. His comedy was a lot more raw and rough around the corners at the time. I was the one who suggested he buy a wheelchair and start talking like Kermit the Frog to take his act to the next level. He did and never looked back.
Alright. There. Most of this is true, but enough of all that. Time to get back to the Real Business.
ON JOSH: “He looks like a melting ice-cream cone covered completely in human hair. He’s that guy that walks around the YMCA locker room, naked, making small talk.”
ON BRAD: “One time, he drunkenly demanded that I take a shot of Bailey’s and lime juice — a “Concrete Mixer” — while holding it between his legs as he was bent over. When I refused, he started dancing and gyrating out of anger and tore the ACL in his right knee. He inspires me.”
ON ZACH: “The only time I ever saw Zach actually fall in love was when he got that electronic toilet seat that blow dries your junk. To be honest, I’ve seen more romance in that relationship than in most others, so maybe he’s on to something.”
Josh Flanagan is a moderately attractive man from Austin, TX.
One time, Josh won that duck pond game at the carnival. I mean, they just called out the number, and—BAM!—he picked the duck. You know how many kids went home with a Peter-frickin’-Rabbit doll that night? At least one.
In third grade, Josh played one of several randomly-inserted monsters in a production of the Three Little Pigs. This was after auditioning THRICE for the role of the Big Bad Wolf, the first two attempts ending in Josh running from the room in tears, mid-song. However, it was Josh’s photo that was featured in the local paper, and not that lumpy kid’s who eventually landed the wolf role. So suck on that, Mrs. Tarber.
Josh found his filmmaking passion at 17 when he got a Hi-8 Camcorder for Christmas. Before that, his ambitions included designing video games, being a firefighter, and moonlighting as a superhero that throws torches at criminals (which would, on occasion, undermine the firefighter thing).
Also, Josh singlehandedly won the Iraq War in 2003, according to his dad. We did win that, right? They don’t make a banner unless you won.
Lawrence Kasdan may have had this to say about Josh:
“It’s like someone distilled the directing prowess of Cameron, the writing panache of Sorkin, and the raw intensity of early Pacino into one well-endowed man.”
- possibly Lawrence Kasdan
A fan of thin mint cookies and heaving bosom, Josh subscribes to the Spielberg adage of making “movies” over “films,” and spends his days developing projects as such. Often considered the “Shemp” of Lark the Beard, he isn’t entirely sure how he got on this show.
ON ZACH: ”There’s a gentleness to him, like a docile blue whale. But with the libido of a persian jird. He’s a jird-whale.”
ON AARON: ”An expert at time management, Aaron spends hours perfecting his coital stare in the mirror each night, while still finding time to flex his calves.”
ON BRAD: ”Go ahead, let him watch your children. I dare you. No, seriously, I want to see what’ll happen.”