Although all of us here at the Lowbrow Sophisticate boast about the numerous stars we resurrect – there is one star that needs no help from us. He is the personification of cool and unlike Mickey Rourke, he was able to box golden gloves AND act without looking like Jocelyn Wildenstein. Although considered by most an outstanding character actor, this gentleman can hold his own on screen and on stage and he always gets the ladies. So, if you’re out there reading this Ron, this one’s for you:

Eldard’s paramedic actin’ makin’ you seaze/datin’ dat curly haired nurse, Julianna Margulies/He’s Shep, yo, in da ER/He’s shootin’ pervert Bacon in dat Hell’s Kitchen bar/Playin’ doze dark beings, fools you can hate/ and Sportin’ golden gloves since 1988/Man’s beyond underrated, top of his game/outside da movie seats, he’s bringin’ broadway fame/Wears the suit of Biff Loman, and iz bros with Mr. Kaufmann/Was gettin’ Doubt noise before Phillip Seymour Hoffman/Droppin’ farts with Rob Schneider, when they were Men Behavin’ Badly/Not to mention Sergeant Manning on HBO’s Trumpets Fadin’ sadly/He’s Shep, yo, in da ER/He’s shootin’ pervert Bacon in dat Hell’s Kitchen bar

“Wrap it up, Wrap it up,” fool we ain’t even near/He’s dirty Oran Monash, hushin’ dat Deep Impact fear/ He’s Life on the Streets, homicide’s his fate/Shootin’ pucks in Miz-turee, as “Skank” da hockey great/And Hartnett’s not the only Black Hawk heart throb/Eldard’s flyin’ whirlybirds through dat deep Somali mob/Back with Julianna, in a true life skinny dip/ while pairin’ up for scares on that sinking Ghost Ship/Sluttin’ it up – diggin’ both kinds of clams/Killin’ it in Diggers, fightin’ corporate Uncle Sams/I know you think it’s gettin’ winded, but no room for debate/y’all catch ‘im this weekend ‘n’ “Spielbrams” Super 8/So let me deposit this rap like a rhymin’ armored guard/This be an ode to the great Ron Mutha-Actin’ Eldard.

Word.

Stop da presses, Yo, Perk dem ears –
We gotta Growin’ Pains problems, not da Wonder Years.
His names Andrew Koenig, but dats not da name you know
He’s that mother fucka Boner, from dat Kirk Cameron show.
Crashin’ in Vancouver, visitin’ homies –
Sportin’ that Boner but it ain’t for no “blow me’s.”
Kirk’s side kick never got on da plane –
But he’s saying dat he’s prayin’ repeatin’ God’s name.
All those Hail Marys ain’t brought him back yet –
Gettin’ nervous, like dat episode where he and DiCaprico met.
Now police be quotin’ Mr. Boner’s not dead –
But they worried just the same, ‘cause the long hair on his head.
Captain Kirk’s Chekov, is Boner’s sperm donor –
And he’s walkin’ in Canada, hopin’ to meet no coroner.
Remember Boner’s boner ain’t attached to “that” brain –
And all this missing, could just be more of those growin’ pains.

Grab that Coat, tuck in yo’ scrote, get dat lip ready t’ pout, cuz it’s ‘bout to git’ cold out.
Old man winter’s trackin’ in snow with iz clomp clomp Ugz
Too cold to even get dat lady to give you those two handed tugz.
Snow’s dumpin’ East droppin inches, no feet in da West
Satan’s getting’ chilly in his North Pole conquest.
Snow foxes be hoppin’ be livin’ like kings
Snowin’ like Nantucket, cuddlin’ up Helen from Wings.
Humans be shovelin’, burrowin’ through drifts like moles
Using all you can, keepin’ warm – papers, woods, candles and coals.
Three plus feet and God’s dumpin’ more
Prayin’ for Apocalypse, summonin’ the earfs core.
But don’t worry, should be gone in a hurry
The Right sez no Global Warmin’, They’d be swearin’ for a jury
If da earfs getting’ hotter, den why all deez flakes?
Da globe’s just fine – if it aint, our grand kids’ll pay for deez mistakes.