No, not the character. Or Donald Faison.
That would be Turk (on the left), and J.D. from Scrubs.
I’d like to give a special birthday shout out to my best friend in the whole danged world, “Chris Turk”. Of course, that’s not really his name, I’m giving him a codename just in case. My boy is a teacher and the last thing he needs is for me to say his government name in the middle of retelling some random-ass wacky story thus getting him in trouble with the brass.
Anyway, I know the concept of “Best Friends” seems kinda silly at our respective ages (him 26 today, me 27 two months ago to the day), but the fact is that they’re called “Best” friends for a reason.
They’re the ones that understand us the best.
They’re the ones that know us the best.
They’re the ones that are the best at accepting our faults, and forgiving us for them.
They’re the best at never passing judgment.
They’re the best at sharing their faults and their follies with us, either out of seeking comfort, or to relate to us in a way that makes us see that (sorry) It Ain’t That Serious.
You can call them whatever you want: Your dog, Your ace, Your mans’n’em, Your boy, Your homeboy, Your homeskillet, and my personal favorite: Your home-wok. The names may change, and the “For Appearances Only” bravado might stick around when other people are present, but when it comes down to it, the theme is the same.
The theme of “This is my brother (or sister), and we’re in this together.”
So, all you Gangsta Azz Thugs and Down Azz Bitches, take a second to slam down an E-Shot with me in honor of a guy who’s been there for me when girls did me dirty, when I needed money to keep the lights on, when my dog F.R.E.D. ran away–only to actually find my puppy and bring him back to me, and to be there by my side virtually every step of the way in this fucked up, crazy-ass journey we call life.
To “Chris Turk”, the best friend anyone could ever ask for.