Da Back Story

Since yesterday's soft launch, the reviews have been overwhelmingly positive. I am clearly adored by thousands and gracefully accept my new title of Supreme Ruler. Now, if you want to get bogged down in 'math' and 'site analytics', technically, only four people visited. One was my wife, Her Majesty. I think I know two of the others, meaning word of mouth has surely made me a local celebrity by now. And don't call me Shirley.

Alright, alright, settle down, everyone! I know you've all been absolutely clamouring (yes, clamouring – I heard the faint, desperate whispers from my millions of adoring fans—okay, maybe not millions, but definitely more than two) for a peek behind the curtain of my magnificent existence. So I figured it was high time I graced you with the origin story of... well, me.

Now, before we delve into the delightfully chaotic abyss that is my family history, a quick disclaimer: 'Kathleen' and 'Tim' are merely placeholder designations. You see, the actual names of my progenitors are so deeply buried under layers of legal safeguards, offshore accounts, and at least three witness protection programs (for my safety, not theirs, obviously) that even the most tenacious internet sleuth couldn't trace them. Let's just say they're both... exceptionally 'off their rockers', and I'm not looking to inherit any of their 'special' fan clubs.

Enter Mama and Papa. Two names that in a perfect logical universe should have been accompanied by a giant flashing 'DO NOT INTERBREED' sign. They met in the trenches, I mean, halls of a particularly 'lively' Chicago public high school. Honestly, their biggest act of irresponsibility wasn't even the eventual 'me'; it was the sheer audacity of acknowledging each other's existence while practically tap-dancing down corridors still echoing with the enthusiastic F-bombs dropped by students (and occasionally, let's be real, exasperated teachers). It's all so clear now in hindsight. Like two particularly oblivious gazelles, they should have been able to sniff out the imminent danger of their own genetic collision. But alas, love (or perhaps just sheer, unadulterated hormones and a shared disdain for grading papers) found a way. And that way led directly to... well, me.