The Roast of Dr. Luke Maurer

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​Luke Maurer was born in 1987, to a loving set of parents. His mum, a gleaming bottle of anxiety pills, and his doting dad, an entire loaf of Wonder-brand white milk bread, have always been extremely proud of their little Snowflake.
 
I don’t call Luke a Snowflake because he’s particularly left, I say it because he’s nearly translucent in complexion.
 
He was raised as a Quaker, on a farm (I assume). He met his first girlfriend at a barn-raising when he was 14. (And, boy, could she raise more than a barn! Am I right?!?! Wink, wink… Why did I write this part?!?)
 
Annnnywhhoooo - One day, as he was rolling his hula-hoop down the dirt road near his farm he thought, “There must be more to life than this!” So, he put on his best Sunday clothes, packed up his good handkerchief and scythe and marched himself to the ‘big city;’ Eugene, Oregon.
 
Dream big, kiddo.
 
Luke gets his name from the Biblical historian, the one who authored the life of Christ in a dickens-esque tedium of detail. Which is EXACTLY what they say about Maurer’s dissertation.
 
Luke Maurer is so white… That he looks like he’s been freshly carved out of Styrofoam.
 
If you ever get tired of Comedy, you can always parley that look into 1/4 of a decently accurate Barbershop Quartet.
 
Luke has been an incredible friend, and a constant regular in the Eugene scene, which is odd, since he’s best known for looking like an extra off the set of West Side Story.
When you’re a jet, you’re a jet all the way?
 
Luke is so anal… He’s so anal, I’d think that were his sexual fetish, if I didn’t know FOR SURE that his sexual fetish is really going to be over-analyzing everything said here tonight. Over and over and over and over…
 
Luke almost always has a look of horror and confusion on his face, as though his soul is the reincarnated violinist from the Titanic.
 
Luke is always a bit uptight, a bit reserved… let’s call him ‘Socially British.’ I want to tell him to ‘throw caution to the wind,’ but I know that’s just going to lead to a million questions about the direction and strength of the wind, the current temperature and atmospheric pressure and overall climate patterns… :::Blow Out Brains:::
 
I love you dearly. SO much, in fact, that I forgive you for asking me if fucking a fat girl is like fucking a normal girl. And, for anyone that is wondering, the answer is, “No. Fucking a fat girl is MUCH better than fucking a normal girl. You know we swallow, ‘cause PROTEIN, duh. AND you know we’re getting breakfast after.
 
So, please join me in wishing Dr. Luke Maurer all the luck, adventure, pleasure, nonsense, and general debauchery he can stand. Never look back. 
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