Introducing Souperduperman
Wondrous beyond belief. Yup that's me. Stunning, astounding. Delectable, adorable. Marvelous, amazing. Enthralling, thrilling. Quixotic, exotic.
Heaven on earth, nectar to the gods, money in the bank, off the charts, under the radar, beyond the pale, in like flint, over the rainbow. And beside myself. Uh-huh. Oh yeah. I am all that and less.
I have the brain of Einstein, the Body of Adonis, the biceps of Paul Bunyan, the gorgeous good looks of JFK Jr., the soul of Ray Charles and ….
…the bank account of Howard Hughes. Oh -- after that last one -- you magically transmogrified your assessment of me -- from strange scary crank weirdo to charming lovable eccentric.
I croon like Caruso, compose like Mozart and beat the drum skins like Buddy Rich. My songs garner Grammies by the gross. Well, “gross” certainly applies in some aspect.
I am Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, and Reverent. And good at cut and paste. Ya think.
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor ice storm nor hurricane nor tornado nor gloom of night stays me from the swift completion of my appointed rounds…am I am immune from going postal. That much is true.
I am pumped, I’m buff and I’m tattooed after my birthplace across the Atlantic.
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwyll-llantysiliogogogoch.
Guess where
My mom was a botanist. She discovered a herb that treats writer’s bloc. Called Prose…ac.
My dad was a virologist. He developed a way to grow polio vaccine in ordinary chicken eggs. No wonder we are all now… cluck-tistic.
I fly like Lindberg, chauffeur like Mario Andretti, cook like Julia Child, grill like Steven Raichlen, spice like Emril Lagasse and decorate like Martha Stewart. Before she went: (a) public; and (b) to Camp Cupcake. Jump tall buildings with a single bound? Not so much. I have a 44 foot long … ladder
My mind does not comprehend the concept of “automatic. ” I eat raw kale. Off the stalk. Kickstart my Harley. Rotary-dial my phone calls. Part the Red Seas. Hand prop my Douglas DC7-C. Walk on water. Split atoms. Light my stove with a match. Snow shovel my 800 foot driveway. By hand. With a spoon. Blindfolded.
I know what happened to Amelia Earhart, Jimmy Hoffa and Colonel Fawcett. But not my car keys.
I’ve co-starred with Ali Baba, Lady Gaga and Babwah Wawa. I have pinch hit for Manny Mota and Sammy Sosa. I drop names as often as the I-phone drops calls.
I am the fly … on the wall, in the ointment and still unzipped after a restroom Greyhound stop.
I twist like Chubby Checker. Chop wood like Woody Woodpecker. Direct like Sam Peckinpah. At the same time. Think, sawdust on the cutting room dance floor.
I watch my TV. Sometimes I even turn it on. And watch the snow in high def. On July 4.
I kindly take in animals with issues. Diabetic gila monster. Vegan bengal tiger. Acrophobic albatross. A vampire bat adverse to dark, belfries and hemoglobin. Can’t seem to cure my red squirrel of ADHD, though…What does not need help is my resident megalomanic hummingbird. Who thinks he’s alternatively a Bell-Boeing V-22 …or a Piasecki PA-97.
I am a professional wordsmith. Specialize in really tough how-to stuff. Think, turkey. My latest best seller is “Boiling Water for Dummies”. Before that, I penned a manual for track stars who moonlight as lawyers entitled, “Runaround, Sue.” In my spare time-- I’m a speech writer for troupe of mimes.
I live green. Its so frigid in here my icebox feeds power back to the grid. And my virgin olive oil pours like slush. My sundial is a robin frozen upright in my birdbath. How cool is all that.
I live in a pine forest. But they are annoying. They needle me, continually.
I am afflicted with analysis paralysis, chivalry rivalry, portfolio imbroglio. And too much time on my hands. And no day job.
I built a house so high it looks down on the clouds. And eye to eye with lesser deities.
So there you have me. SouperDuperman…with the emphasis on….Dupe….my middle name
Well -- you know I got bored with my old profile..smile...
Do I seek a relationship or merely an audience? Um, that’s kinda up to you…
You are too funny.
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