First, let me just say that I know you have many
options for clicking, and I thank you for clicking on "About
Since I monitor the click-throughs to this page
with highly sophisticated, Internet-based click-through counting
counters, I can assure you, statistically, that by being interested
in my bio, you have joined a rare group of people which numbers
in the high single digits.
I was born in the early 1960's, a small hairless
biped, in Southern California. This quickly changed. The hairless
part, I mean. Ask anyone who has seen me at the beach. (See: Yeti).
So I am what is known as a "native Californian," a phrase
which implies a certain smug superiority over all other Californians
who did not have the gumption to get their parents to move to California
before they were born.
The main perk of being a native Californian is
that at a tender age you learn that if the 405 is jammed, you can
take the 105 to the 110 to the 10 to the 5 instead. Plus there is
the rare opportunity to soak up so much sunshine by third grade
that by the time you are 50, your face will look like a saddle.
The downside is that every year, many native Californians
drown when they run outside and turn their faces to the sky to find
out what that water is that's falling from the clouds. In any case,
I spent my native childhood in a small town not far from Los Angeles
which shall be nameless, because if I named it, you would steal
my identity. I know you.
In high school, I became interested in theater,
because that was the building where the pretty girls were. In theater
classes, and in plays, I was often required to kiss pretty girls,
which, being shy, was pretty much the only action I got in high
school. I say "pretty much" because my mother will be
I then attended a small college in Orange County,
which shall be nameless, because you will steal its identity. There
I actually majored in theater, doing lots of serious drama and not
nearly so much kissing. By the time I figured out that the English
majors were doing all the kissing, it was too late to switch.
After graduating, I spent several years "paying
my dues" in the entertainment industry, after which I was fully
qualified to be, well, a magazine circulation manager. Yes, I know,
making sure your company's magazines are distributed in the proper
quantity to the proper supermarket or doctor's office each month
may sound glamorous, but I can assure you it involved many a night
nursing paper cuts too.
Every Sunday about this time, a free newspaper
would get thrown at my house. One issue had an ad saying they needed
a new columnist, and though I had not written anything since my
high school newspaper, I was inexplicably hired.
I started out writing a biweekly column, which
is either a column twice a week or every other week. I can never
remember, and don't tell me you can. After a few years, this became
a weekly column, then space opened up in the company's paid newspapers
in the Los Angeles area, and the column began appearing in them
After five years of writing for local papers,
I decided to launch this Web site, because
I felt the wider world needed greater access to skunk jokes. So
I built this site myself from the ground up, which I highly recommend
if you want to save a lot of money on Web designers, and are really
hot to pull out what remains of your thinning hair. If you don't
have thinning hair, and want some, I recommend writing a weekly
Long story short, this whole thing was the result
of strangers throwing free newspapers at my house. My suggestion
to you is, get a fence.
If you would like to comment about this bio, the
site's design, the columns, or how smokin' hot my hair
was back in '76, you may reach me by using
the "Contact George" link below. I promise to respond
to every message personally, or have my people do it.