Pepper Jack

On this day in 1978 an unworldly terror was released from the damned shackles of hell the likes of which would shatter benevolent humanity as we know it. Born with the temper of two junkyard Pittbulls on mescaline and the flighty good looks of Dracula's girlfriend, this bastion of evil has roamed the urine-soaked back alleys of our cities for more than three decades unchecked, leaving only the echoes of carnage in his churning bloody wake.

Looking back over the past 31 years, let's take a minute to examine the life of a steel oak tree known to mortals as simply Pepper Jack:

PJ can not be killed, because how does one kill the wind?

Jack's real father is a bridge in St. Louis.

"Papa?"

He has two tattoos. The one on his left forearm is simply a tribute to the riff demigods Tesla, but on his right shoulderblade...yep, your mother.

Pepper is colorblind. Is it really colorblindness, when color refuses to be his presence lest it take a roundhouse to the face?

PJ didn't invent the cup, that's absurd. He invented liquid.

Once a year, as an act of kindness, PJ shaves his chest to make warm coats for every child in the Ukraine.

It was just called City, Utah before Jack walked through it on a muggy autumn day.

You know Florida...Pepper Jack knows his penis.

If, by chance, you do run across this great man, nay this empire of light, be thankful for your life, because its over now.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOTHERFUCKER!