Thanks to his surprisingly endearing commercial for Blersus, there has recently been an upswell of “he’s so dreeeaaaamy” feelings for Braydon Coburn amongst our friends. We’re not sure we’re jumping on this “I [heart] Coburn” bandwagon whole-heartedly, but we feel like now’s as good a time as any to discuss our long and convoluted relationship with Braydon. Just because so many people out there seem to care about him these days. And because we can’t think of anything else to say today.
It all started sometime two seasons ago, in a discussion of hockey players’ names we irrationally don’t like (you know, like Joffrey Lupul, or Jon Sim). Boomer mentioned a name we’d only heard vaguely in passing, a Braydon Coburn, or, as Boomer misremembered, Braydon Clawforth. We immediately figured out what was wrong with that name — that it sounds like it would be a hermit crab cohort of Boxworthy’s. And would be spelled “Braedon Clauforth”. A frenzy of character development followed that realization, and two Braedon Clauforths emerged.
The first Clauforth is none other than Baron Braedon Clauforth IV, an evil genius and archnemesis of Zach’s and Boxworthy’s. He wears a monocle, being, as he is, a member of Zach’s social circle, and accessorizes with a bemedaled sash and a pointy Kaiser Wilhelm helmet. He spends his time in the wood-paneled clubs that Zach frequents, sipping brandy from a snifter, or maybe the occasional glass of port, and comes up with dastardly schemes meant to discredit and/or ruin Zach. He is always bested by Boxworthy, and his resentment simmers and grows with each passing day. He is, though, a worthy opponent.
The other Clauforth is Zach’s erstwhile bosom friend. He was the only pet Zach was allowed to have while growing up, but was never considered anything less than an equal. Zach was forced to leave him behind when he left for college, though, and Braedon Clauforth grudgingly became the bosom friend of the boy JP and Donna Parise brought in to replace Zach: Sid. When Sid finally ran away from the stifling Parise home to ride the rails, Clauforth came with him. Now he wears a belt fashioned from a length of rope and Zach can’t recognize him because his resplendent shell was replaced with an old Schlitts can. Zach is forever heartbroken because his bosom friend has left him, and Clauforth is down-and-out and living in a dented old can. It’s a sad, sad tale.
We’re not sure how the two stories developed at the same time, and we can’t really choose which one we like best. Maybe that’s the real appeal of Braydon Coburn — he can be all things to all people. As long as those things involve hermit crabs and Schlitts cans.