It’s been a long time coming, but we finally get around to showing just how broad our ridicule will go. Today, we joke about our editor.
Nice picture, huh? That’s the Patrick we knew a few years ago: random fasion sense, urge to drink until he passes out, weird hair style…some things never change. He doesn’t even look that cute asleep! Looks like a pile of dirty towels just flung on the couch. I remember this one time, he…. bah, we could go on forever. This little bio isn’t about his whole life. This is about how The Inept Owl came to be, in case you were wondering. We’ll touch on the past and future, whatever may be of interest. It’s not entertaining, and it’s not epic. It may just sound that way because it starts in New York, in utero.
As a gestating pile of cellulose material in his mother’s womb, young Patrick spent his time being carried about Manhattan, from Uptown to SoHo to New York University. It cannot be proven, but legend has it that the unborn child was deeply affected by the trash-talk, horn honking, and cursing that surrounded him on these adventures in the city, and came to rely on this as home. Without ridicule and passivity lumped together, there was no communication. Through his mother’s laugh at these outburts in the city, young Patrick learned what humor was.
When the child was finally born, the romantic idea of growing up in the city came to an end. Patrick was brought to the outskirts of suburbia on Long Island, and later into the heart of it in a Levitt home. It was here that Patrick learned of building snowmen, football, and how to pine away at women much older than him. At 6 years old, 10 was considered way out of his league, which was the exact age of the cute blonde who lived next door to him. Through emotional turmoil such as this, it can be assumed that Patrick would be easily led to writing. Instead, thanks to odd but rather normal family situations, Patrick fantasized about becoming a lawyer and, later on, a therapist. Although the time to run to Law School is at an end, he still listens to people’s problems, although they are usually problems people have with him.
Writing happened upon this young Dickens unlike most writers. He started writing little comic books in grammar school with his friend as illustrator. In junior high Patrick became extremely cliche. He began writing love poems, nothing short of greeting card standards. He lost the girl, but not the willingness to write. He did not share his writings (which are locked away in a composition book to this day) from the beginning of high school except, of course, when courting a woman rather horribly. He finally took a creative writing class. Patrick did not learn much of style, but he did learn that being “experimental” could lead to publicity. A week before graduation he was called in to see the Department Head of English with his parents. Apparently one of his stories had leaked, and there was some concern as to the subject matter. Luckily, all was smoothed out, and Patrick graduated from his conservative high school.
In college, Patrick pursued the useless degree of English. That is to say, useless when trying to find a job that has nothing to do with teaching. It was here that his wit began to shine through his writing. He had not given up his cheesy, annoying poetry, but merely put it aside for something new: fiction. Patrick learned not only about humor, but how it can affect people differently. A piece one person would find funny would not mean everyone else would find as humorous. He learned that the hard way as he was pelted with rotten fruit by the Women’s Liberation Redux Corp and Amnesty International, a whole twelve people on his three thousand student campus.
Upon graduating, Patrick went to work in the construction business as he pursued his Master’s Degree in Creative Writing. Many people found this ridiculous, on par with trying to get a degree from Clown College. Eventually Patrick left his school after gathering credits to classes his undergraduate college didn’t offer such as script writing, teaching to write, and advanced finger-painting. With his new-found sense of accomplishment and a hefty portfolio, Patrick went in search of a job, an agent, or even pocket change. He brought his newfound artistry to such names as Comedy Central, Fantagraphics, MTV, TBS, The Onion, even The Discovery Channel, and was shot down each time, sometimes with a nice letter, sometimes with a kick in the ass out the door.
Some may take this as a sign to settle down, grab a desk job, start a family, maybe even learn to play golf, but Patrick couldn’t find a good set of left-handed clubs. Instead, he decided that since the only person who couldn’t reject him was himself, he would start his own fledgling company, one where content was more important than pop-up advertising, a place people wouldn’t take the world or themselves very seriously, a place to look up when a Wednesday was running a bit longer than expected. From this, The Inept Owl was hatched.