A little nonsense now and then…

Hi all! My name is Adam M. Johnson. It seems appropriate that an introduction to a fantasy blog should include something fantastical. And so some background information about myself unconstrained by the pedestrian concerns of reality:

I fancy myself a man of few modest accomplishments:

I do not walk on water, though on rare occasions I have been known to skip. The laws of gravity do apply to me, but, fortuitously enough, not to my stock picks.

I once made witty small talk with the prime mover in the Tulsa greyhound station, but (alas) lost her phone number. I have the Dalai Lama on speed dial, Barack Obama in my rolodex and the supreme court in my pocket. The Pope returns my calls.

I have beaten both Gary Kasparov and Bobby Fisher at checkers. My name has become a synonym for audacity in Sanskrit. I am renowned throughout the middle east for my yodeling skills. I alone keep the Bulgarians in check.

I am the reason the Mona Lisa is smiling.

I have gone from the beginning of time to the ends of the Earth, taking only a brief rest stop in the middle of nowhere (Elk City Oklahoma).

I have found dark matter underneath my mattress, and a Platonic form in my closet. Dick Cheney showers in the bathroom and does my laundry on alternate Tuesdays. My middle name is the highest prime number.

I have ascended Mount Everest, though I will admit to taking the elevator. I am only the second person to have ever soloed on the ukulele at Carnegie hall.

I have strolled a four minute mile. I once dozed off in Salt Lake City and woke up with a silver medal in pairs luge. Claims adjusters live in mortal dread of my shadow. I rent out the Brooklyn Bridge for parties.

I have been burgled by Winona Rider, ambiguously wed by Britney Spears, and callously ignored by the academy. I may or may not have been Shirley McClaine in a past life. The California Republican Party exists purely for my own amusement.

I recreate Gene Kelly dance routines in the street when the weather is inclement, and Fred Astaire numbers on my ceiling when it is not. I have turned right at Albuquerque. I have performed the entire St. Matthew’s Passion on harmonica.

The Patent office refuses to look at my perpetual motion machine, but were quite interested in the cold fusion reactor. One idle weekend in January 2003 I constructed Mitt Romney out of balsa wood and misshapen paper clips. George W. Bush’s brain sits unused in my glove compartment.

I have written a sequel to War and Peace, a prequel to the Divine Comedy, and will set to work fixing the Star Wars prequels as soon as I have a free afternoon. I have invented a whistle that attracts Mormons.

I’m planning to rig the 2012 election in Texas. I rule Delaware with an iron fist, and New Brunswick with a velvet glove. I have completed the tour de France on unicycle, and broken the sound barrier in a shopping cart. Particle physicists are in awe of my underwear drawer. The 1997 Nobel Prize for economics is currently propping up my bookshelf.

I’m holding back the Mississippi with the sheer force of my personality, and duct tape.

Note: I must give credit where credit is due: I was required to read this essay by my 12th grade English teacher:


I felt sufficiently moved to eventually write my own version. I’ve been looking for a good place to use it ever since. The person who wrote the original also allegedly made it into NYU thanks to (or maybe in spite of) the essay.