The other day, I applied to be a columnist at my university’s paper. I hope they take me, and I think I sent some good samples. But the thing I’m most proud of is the one thing I had to create completely: they asked for a 150-word biography, saying that they would run it if they take me. All they wanted was something “that will make us want to know more about you.”
I started with my name and major, then erased it because it was boring. I decided to begin with a question, and before I knew it, here was my bio…
Who is Marley Seaman? Multi-millionaire, international playboy, jet-setting raconteur with a devilish smile, he is an enigmatic living question, a man whose name is on everyone’s lips. From the royal heirs of Europe to the moguls of Hollywood, everyone wants to know. And now, the truth can finally be told…
Marley was born in New York City in 1911, the son of poor sharecroppers. After selling his soul to the devil at the crossroads in exchange for the ability to play the blues guitar (and also half of a lukewarm BLT, a used ticket to a screening of Don’t Look Now, and two minor league pitchers), he made his way to Evanston, where he sought employment as a windshield wiper. When this failed, he turned to journalism. He is now a Medill senior concentrating in magazine writing and enjoying his final year as a student.
It should’ve been quick and easy and dull and I made it bizarre and fun (for me). Says more about me than the dry facts anyway, and if THAT doesn’t make them want to know more about me, I don’t know what will.
So now I’d like to see you guys have some crazy fun with this, too. We have a lot of creative types who I think will like it. The only rule is the 150-word max length. It’s your biography, but you can do whatever you want with it. Go nuts.
What is there to be said about Amanda? Raised by tree-kangaroos in a long-abandoned caryard, she had no knowledge of the human world until the age of 8. Venturing out into this new territory, she found it lacking in tasty foliage, but nevertheless intriguing. When her first feeble attempts to integrate with the race she now recognized as her own failed miserably, she turned to science for comfort. After much study, she struck upon an idea. If she could not become human, the humans must become tree-kangaroos. Work was begun at once on a fiendish device. Despite a few small setbacks (being unable to think of an evil enough alias, less cheese-snacks than were found to be required, lack of comfy cushions) progress was swift.
Kris Meen wasn’t always Mr. Lover-Lover. Born a good looking child, his parents were nevertheless horrified when he displayed giant mule-teeth when he smiled. Growing up tough in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco, Kris learned to keep his mouth shut at an early age when, at the age of 6, grade 1 bully Joey “The Pit Bull” said, “Ha, nice teeth, muley. You suck.” Switching schools, Kris pretended to be a deaf-mute. During the summer after grade 7, Kris’ luck changed. Accidentally walking into a hold-up at the local 7-11, the robber proceeded to smash him in the face with a crowbar. This broke his mule-teeth, so that they were just the right size!
Mr. Fehr’s birthdate can not be traced, but we suspect that it was sometime between 1925 and 1948. Nor do we have a clue about what his first name is.
What we do know is that, for the last 25 years, he has been the prime mover in the politics of Jersey, both the state and the Channel Island. So far, he has never failed to select a major party nominee for office in Jersey.
Mr. Fehr, moreover, has held this cloat without ever running for office or holding a political position himself.
Mr. Fehr lives in a 43-room mansion, but we can not figure out where it is, or how he paid for it.
Born of the unlikely pairing of a poor coal miner’s daughter and a vacationing Sasquatch, the man called Horseflesh was destined to become the centerpiece of many legends. Raised by pirates, schooled by gypsies, and cultured by the Last Living Ninja, he took the dank underworld of crime by storm. Betwixt bullying school children for their lunch money and orchestrating the collapse of many governments, he found the time learn to play the bagpipe, mouth harp, and washboard and is a first class yodeler. His prized possession is a map stolen from a dead god that shows all the imperfections in the fabric of time. He illegally travels to various important events in history and mucks around with key people and information to suit his maniacal plans of galactic conquest. He is known now to be hiding sometime in the early 21st century and posts regularly to a popular message board.
If you know of this person, please contact your local ChronoStation and
