Why, you ask?
Because Boy-Blunder—pictured (unmasked) below— snapped this picture while I was sitting in the Batmobile—sans my secret identity.
Alright, that wasn’t the only reason for all the howls of laughter. I also attempted to bribe my girls with Monopoly money (just the most valuable currency around, particularly with hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place) into writing this bio for me.
Of course, I took their laughter to mean that they’d rather I write my own pack of lies.
Alright, so be it!
I’ll begin by saying that there was a time when I had hoped to have a brush with fame.
However, eventually I came to the conclusion that any FUTURE searches for a brush with fame would likely require my having to explore hardware and antique stores—possibly with the use of a modified DeLorean capable of time travel into the future, as it might take longer than I thought.
That’s when I realized my search for a FAMOUS BRUSH (and the most ludicrous part of my bio) had come to an end.
So I sold my DeLorean to some old guy with wild looking white hair going by the name of…Doc.
That meant that I had to find a new waste of time, thus this completely absurd but remarkably silly blog.
This is likely the worst blog you’ve ever come across.
Therefore, I’m determined not to publicize it. Which might explain why you’ve never seen any annoying ads for my blog interrupting your YouTube videos, or plastered all over billboards along some freeway.
Also, the fact that I didn’t wish to spend thousands of dollars on promoting my blog that way might have had a little to do with it as well.
Now this may surprise some of you, but I’d always felt—from age five on—that one day I’d realize my dream of total anonymity by creating a blog on WordPress.
Oh sure, it’s just possible Blogger or some other platform … nah, it was always WordPress.
Originally, though, I thought about doing a personal journal. But, then lightening struck and aside from the smell of burnt flesh (and a need for some new clothes) I decided I could probably accomplish the exact same thing by doing a blog instead—WITH POSSIBLY EVEN FEWER READERS!
(It’s here I feel compelled to write the following disclaimer.)
In this blog (if you are a member of the grammar police) you will find bad grammer (hee hee), pour puntuation (ha ha), and dreadful speling. You’re welcome, grammar police.
You’ll also likely require a translator when reading any of my posts—as I’m quite the expert in writing the incomprehensible.
So feel free to bring a translator: it’ll add to my stats—say nothing of my ego.
Influences? I’ve had many … just never on anyone else. I include this fact to spare you anxiety over your reading any further—in case you’re addicted to Benzodiazepines.
The following detail might reveal more than you wish to know about me, but I’m going to risk it—just for you.
I’M A LEO!
WELL I GUESS THE CATS OUT OF THE BAG NOW so I might as well come clean and tell you the rest of the story.
I own a smart phone, a tablet, and yes…a television—complete with remote!
I’ll pause for a moment to let you recover from that last revelation.
See, one day my youngest said that the remote didn’t belong to me. Can you believe it? He then went on to say that he wanted it back or he’d call mom.
Ha, ha, ha I almost didn’t have the heart to tell him mom also happens to be my wife—not that that would carry any weight given my hopeless situation at that particular moment.
Anyway, I’d always felt possession was 99.9% of the law, that is until my wife asked me to give the remote back to him or I might not have a leg (legal or otherwise) to stand on when she got home—I always suspected that she meant that literally. Ever since I’ve discovered that my wife is usually right about 99.9% of the time.
Psst, wanna know a secret? Okay, I’ll tell you anyway.
I’ve heard it said that if you keep one finger over the delete button on your keyboard, you probably know the one I’m talking about—NO! Not that one!—that you can actually maintain peace and harmony in your house.
Mind you, I’ve never really had to put that to the test yet, because I suspect my family feels that if I ever did … POOF… we’d all be gone in a flash drive accident.
I wouldn’t bet on it though. I’d hate being responsible for my friends losing money—’cause they usually want it back!
Oh, please be advised: don’t try this delete button thing at home as results may vary. In any case, this measure should never be attempted by a wife—the delete button is only husband approved.
The preceding was a public service announcement.
Well that’s the bio. Best work of fiction, balderdash, and poppycock I’ve ever written and it reads like a bad novel don’t you think? Feel free not to answer that question. No, really!
All the same, you’re all welcomed here “In My Cluttered Attic” anytime. I’m gratified you—or anyone for that matter—had the courage to venture in this far.
OH, and I should probably mention that there’s no financial reward for the five minutes you just lost reading this rather flimsy bio.
But I want you to know your reading it, and any comments you might share below (a noble sacrifice on your part to be sure) will be duly noted in “The Attic” book of history…
Uh, when I get around to creating one that is. 😀