Saint Andrew
There is perhaps only one man who has ever lived who has given up everything for his Joke (the Apostles don't count -- they didn't know they were kidding). That man is Saint Andrew, Martyr of the Missed Joke.
      Saint Andrew appeared on the scene sometime around 1989, and Lo! did Saint Andrew perpetrate a Mighty Joke, whose humor was too subtle in its screaming audacity and thus was its Jokedom Missed and Misunderstood in the Realm of Thud, and Lo again! did the Thuddite Hordes flatten the career of Saint Andrew, whose Great Joke did maketh him a Demon to some and a Role Model to the Italians (who didst miss entirely his Jewish Monicker). And Lo once more! did Saint Andrew yet stand proud upon his Great Joke, and rode it into the Maelstrom of Public Disapproval with All Colors Flying, and did sink without a trace. And the Few, the Proud, the People With Three Fingers of Forehead, did mourn his passing, for they saw his Great Joke, made Greater by its force and subtlety, and knew it was Funny.
      After a period of months, Saint Andrew resurfaced from the Dark Lands of Anonymity, having seemingly jettisoned his Great Joke in favor of the sitcom stereotype of the tough-guy-with-a-heart-of-gold dad. It did seem that Saint Andrew had sold out (at the least, it seemed so to the maintainer of the Unofficial Andrew Dice Clay Home Page).
      Thus must it seem to the Uninitiated, who, though they might have known him to be a Saint, have failed to notice his Martyrdom. Those with the eyes to see know that, rather than subjecting himself to the possibly insurmountable temptation to renounce his Great Joke, Saint Andrew has chosen to run himself through with the venomous Sword of the Mediocre Sitcom, guaranteeing that he has suffered the Final Comedic Death and can never renounce his Great Joke.
      For this sacrifice, we honor the Memory of Saint Andrew, Martyr of the Missed Joke, and visit his gravesite with teary eyes though his body doth yet walk the World. And we sit praying for his Rebirth (and a Rebirth would it truly be, though it taketh place in the same Flesh), and hope that Saint Andrew might walk amongst us again.
      Hail Eris, Amen, Pass the Hot-Dog Buns.