My name is Red. My other name is Jolt. This name doesn’t mean anything. It is a name I chose, and decided I liked, and have, as such, stuck with.
Some of you will be reading this as a way of deciding whether you will enjoy my writing, some of you will be reading it because you’ve read my writing before and not been able to pin down my personality, and some will be reading it because I told them to. Regardless, this is basically a little explanation of myself.
Officially, I was born in 1988 in West Yorkshire. However, the truth is quite different. As many people may know, I was not actually born. I am the result of years of internationally collaborative research into mood condensation. In the same way that the Jedwards were created in an attempt to manifest pure deposits of annoying twattery, which is a mood, definitely, I was created in laboratory conditions as a crystalline deposit of cynicism, which was then hewn into a vaguely human shape, brought to life using SCIENCE, and then programmed to do the bidding of a mad scientist named Dr. Karl Power. Unfortunately, Dr. Power is an incredibly indecisive man, and is still trying to work out what he would like me to do. As a result, I have mostly free will, although expect one day to drop into a waking coma, pick up a poisoned umbrella, and go murder the fuck out of a dissenter.
My basic political views are basically based around necessity. I don’t believe necessity should dictate everything in life, which is why I own a cold war era gas mask (the kind worn by the SAS), but I do believe that it should dictate policy. Basically, my view is, unless we don’t need anything, the government can’t have things we don’t need.
My interests include avoiding difficult questions, being incredibly angry, writing an outlandish comedy script that I’ll never have the balls to get made, and listening to music you don’t know or like.
Things that anger me are… well… the list is far too long for here… it would actually take up most of the internet, but religious music, Glee, quasi-scientific commercials, and those dickheads from hair product commercials are big up there, all being eclipsed by my enormous, incandescent, apocalyptic, Wagnerian hatred of television news and its abject incapability of reporting on anything even approaching the truth, preferring instead to make people scared or angry about things that aren’t scary or angering.
Well, that’s me, anyway. There’s probably more to tell but I’m not going to. HAH.
Sounds very nice altogether.
You’re a very good nemesis.