Joe Hartzler

Around mid January of last year, fresh out of college and poised to shake the world, brimming with optimism and head-knowledge, I knew I was destined to be a big star in Hollywood. But first, I’d need to buckle down and save some money for the big move, even if that meant living with my parents and getting a job like some poor working stiff. Despite the fact that I was handsome, brilliant, and fantastically talented, a million dollar baby of sorts, I dawned a pair of Carharts and went to work as a regular ol’ blue-collared working stiff bozo; a real jerk. Looking back, I suppose some part of me knew, even then, that this brush with manual labor could do a lot for my marketability, that I could always play the hero of the people card, just a regular corn-fed Joe from Ohio. And, it would really pad my E True Hollywood Story quite nicely. So, I set my hands to digging and my heart to dreaming.

Well, the rains came and still I forged on. I remember 6AM came early back then, and that brutal Ohio winter did its damnedest to break my spirits with bitter winds, freezing temperatures, snow, rain, sleet, mud, and generally hopelessness. But do you think I gave up? Well, yes, but only because it was difficult. The point is this: I was poor.

I sought council from my parents who came to me and said, “Joe, this is the last time we’re telling you, leave. Please leave. Go away from here and leave.” I paused my video game, set down my beer, and replied simply, “You want me to leave? Fine. I’ll go, you just say the word.” So my wise parents reiterated, “You’re no longer welcome here. Please, we’re begging you to leave us alone.” This time, it began to sink in and I could deny the hero’s call no longer. I needed to go out there and find my destiny as a big big Hollywood star. But was the timing right?

Well, after my parents counseled me once more, this time in writing, I knew that it was definitely time for me to go make my family proud. Now there was just one thing left to do in order that I might earn the favor of my alcoholic father (He’s not really an alcoholic, but I figure they’ll make him an alcoholic in my biopic, so that’s what I’m going with.) … so all I had to do to earn the favor of my abusive alcoholic father, and redeem the legacy of my murdered mother (again, for the sake of the biopic…), was move to California and become the biggest Hollywood star that Hollywood has ever seen, so big, in fact, that I would necessitate the creation of a new tabloid called, JOE, which would be read exclusively by celebrities. It would be dedicated to all things Joe, and would contain articles like, “Joe: How One Man United a Nation,” and, “Joe Knows Joe: The Joe Hartzler Story” and “Joe: How He Made His Family Eat Humble Pie.” It would also contain all kinds of fun fodder like, “Joe Deals Britney yet Another Crushing Blow,” and “Joe’s Word of the Week: Fun!!”

So, I wadded up that 300 bucks I’d managed to save, and made the big move. Heck, I even had to fly coach on the way out here. But, the rest, I guess you could say, is history. I’ve been a working actor in Hollywood for a year now, and I even got paid once. Unless I’m mistaken, and I rarely am, I’m well on my way to one of those lifetime achievement sympathy Oscars. Or, who knows, if this Sci-fi movie turns out the way I think it will, I might not even need the sympathy Oscar. The point is this: I’m still poor, but thanks to Hollywood, I’m also delusional, and now my life is more incredible than I or anyone could have ever dreamed.

Stay on the look-out for my biopic, “Corn-Fed Brilliance: How a Regular Joe Helped us Forget About Cancer and Focus on Laughter” I know I’m watching for it.