James Chupka was born on a cool, crisp night on October 17th 1984 in Wilkes-Barre, PA. He grew up to be a rambunctious, curious young man, eager to examine the world. Once at the age of six, James drove his Big Foot Power Wheels off of a five-foot high retaining wall in his parents' back yard. He developed a crippling fear of fairgrounds shortly after. A decade later he took to shaving his chest as a way to attract the opposite sex in the balmy summer months. He continued this practice for two years until stumbling upon an old centerfold of a naked, sensual Burt Reynolds. James never put a BIC to his chest there after. In his twenties, he spent most of his time exploring and photographing the world. He took residence in New York City, Washington DC and Philadelphia. He photographed the United States, Scotland, Germany and Czech Republic. This was the point in his life when he joined the Dependable Felons. James directed films and acted in stage performances with the company into his forties. Seven months after his forty-third birthday he left the Dependable Felons after an altercation with Matthew Meyer and Bernard Podcasy stemming from an incident with three call girls in a Kentucky motel. After some poor financial investing, James lived on the streets of Atlantic City, NJ from 2033 to 2038. He managed to rebound by marrying a twenty-three year old Czech model. He stole her heart after her father became enamored by the fast talking fifty-something James. He rose through the ranks to become president of his wife's father's international beverage distribution company. His golden years were spent satisfying his wife and twenty year old mistress's sexual desires and setting up numerous philanthropic organizations. He died of a massive heart attack at the tender age of 98 while blowing fat lines of coke off a well endowed stripper's bosom in the champagne room of an Atlantic City gentlemen's club.

Out of all the obscure comedian's bio-pages, on all the websites, in all the world... you had to walk in to mine. I know why you're here, and I can't say that I blame you: you want to know about the person behind the man behind the laughter. Since joining up with the Felons, I've been called a lot of names- "the funny one", "the dashingly handsome one," etc- but you can just call me Bern. Now, against my better judgment, I am going to reward your nosy imposition by sharing a little bit of information about myself.

Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but I've always been a little ahead of the curve. My birth on March 29, 1982 prompted Argentina to seize the Falkland Islands from Britain, though only a few people- myself not included- outside of MI5 know why.

From a very young age, I displayed uncommon athletic prowess and mental dexterity. For example, there was the time I scored 53 goals in a single game of NHL 94 for Sega Genesis. Impressed? What do you mean no?

OK, you asked for it and now I'm going to give it to you. You want to be wowed? You want to be wooed? Well, unless you're a court-appointed psychiatrist or my ex's private investigator, here are a few facts that are definitely not old news:

I put my pants on both legs at the same time.

I lost my virginity at age 15 to the Bishop Hoban Girls Volleyball team. The incident resulted in my official excommunication via Papal Bull.

I traveled through time once, carelessly interfering with several major events that would shape western civilization as we know it. As far as I can tell, the only consequence of my actions was the creation of sweatpants.

I was originally cast as the kid on the popular TV series Evening Shade, until Burt Reynolds caught me in a supply closet with Loni Anderson. The confrontation was epic.

Bern Podcasy has NEVER referred to himself in the third-person. Welcome to history, motherfuckers.

Molecular physicists hypothesize that Bern Podcasy squared=Busta Rhymes. Woo Ha! indeed

So drink it in folks, because despite what you may have heard, I am a bright and shining star, a Jack of all trades, a true man of the people. And if anyone tries to tell you that I'm a broke, slightly out of shape bartender who spent 10 years working on an English degree, punch them in the neck, because I hate liars.