Long ago, a great explosion (some say it was controlled by a sentient being) sent a cloud of elemental particles careening into each other in chaotic (not random) vibrations that manifest themselves in the personality of a man bearing my likeness. Sometimes the particles move in patterns that almost appear brilliant, purposeful, even beautiful--at other times their patterns just seem pathetic. Most of the time they're at least entertaining to witness.

Favorite Authors
Fleming, Rand, Conan Doyle, Du Bois, Dickens, Hugo, Whitman, Reed, Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein, myself--not necessarily in that order