A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

I've got the first two paragraphs and the last sentence down cold:

"Pete von der Haar (a/k/a the 15th Earl of Dordrecht) was born in 1969, the product of a tryst between a Pasadena, TX hotel cleaning lady and the bass player for Vanilla Fudge. Like Kaspar Hauser, young Pete was often kept in hotel broom closets and boiler rooms, without much significant human contact. A minor genius, however, Pete managed to reverse-engineer the rules of society learn using his "Last Tango in Paris" action figures.

Pete himself prefers not to dwell on these dark times, and stage II of his remarkable life began when, at age 15, he was dumped in the dead of night on the 50-yard line of Kyle Field with a note reading "He's your problem now" stapled to his chest. Discovered by the Aggie Corps, he was adopted as an informal mascot (never able to supplant Reveille IV) and enrolled at the prestigious A & M Consolidated High School. However, Pete could not read, write, or speak in complete sentences, which meant that he fit in well with the other brain-dead Judas Priest fans yearning to attend the Monsters of Rock at Castle Donington.... [gap]

Pete currently lives in Houston's historic and scenic Fifth Ward with his wife, the former Mrs. Jeff Bagwell, and their adorable infant daughter, Chardonnay."

Nominated for Secretary of State by a delusional man, Vonder Haar found himself the subject of an official FBI investigation and was subsequently convicted of smuggling marmots, the only felony blemish on an otherwise misdemeanorish record. (The smuggling charge was enhanced by the judge's finding that the marmots were carried in the trousers in a prurient fashion.)

Gifted with the ability to travel time and space by a magic pixie named "Autosomic Psychosis", Pete spends his vacations along the beaches of the Niobrara Sea in Kansas, 78 million years B.C., but has yet to report finding anything that resembles Raquel Welch. Who is, it must be said, frankly unto a dog compared to Pete's wife, but Ms. Welch's undeniable influence on young Pete's, let's say, appreciation of film overwhelms his otherwise flawless critical sense as well as his sense of marital danger.

Pete's daughter, whose name ("Winter Loveducky Vonder Haar") remains a closely guarded secret, plays the trombone professionally in the Tower of Power.

oh, come on, you know there's no point until we see what HWRNetc,etc,etc has to say...

Untrue, and anyway I'm sending mine direct to Pete.

I, personally, am waiting for Polish President Aleksander Kwasnieswski's submission.

Pete vonder Haar, noted film critic and prune Danish aficionado, was discovered at the mouths of the Ganges by a kindly Flemish couple at the age of six months. He had been floating in a small basket constructed of pitch-smeared bulrushes and subsisting on a diet of Cheez Whiz and beef jerky. His subsequent existence is shrouded in mystery, enigma, and confusion.

Known chiefly for wearing plus-fours and a natty tam-o'-shanter, he spends his working days at the intersection of the West Loop South and the South Loop West pounding out film critiques on an aging Commodore 64, the last of its breed.

[Shit, why can't I get Norbizness to write me a bio?]

Sometime in the late 1970s, a disgruntled vat scrubber at the Spoetzl Brewery in Shiner, Texas, purchased an untested hallucinogenic compound from an itinerant ElectroLux vacuum-cleaner salesman. In a drunken stupor, he committed a spiteful act of terrorism unparalleled in the annals of fermentation: he introduced the experimental narcotic into the Hot Wort tank. As he fled the scene, however, the hapless saboteur stumbled into Boggy Creek and was devoured by a school of ornery brook trout.

Unwittingly, the Shiner Brewing Company distributed contaminated bottles of Shiner Bock across the state. A large portion of the tainted brew found its way to the supermarkets and package stores of College Station, where innocent, unsuspecting alcoholics purchased case after case. There, the potent elixir was consumed and the complex chemical compound wormed its way into the necrotic brain cells of thousands of credulous, beer-swilling Texans. And the persistent mass hallucination we know today as Peter Vonder Haar was born.

Fueled by mysterious alchemy, mob psychology, a rare cosmic alignment, and narrative convenience, the Vonder Haar hallucination seeped into the collective subconscious and became infectious, passing from one diseased mind to another. Few were immune to the pernicious phantasm. Only a rare gene on the X chromosome allowed a fortunate handful of women to escape its influence -- to these happy few, Pete was invisible, and remains so to this day.

The Vonder Haar hallucination evolved over time, becoming louder, more tangible, and slightly wider around the middle. It continues to find new ways to propagate itself -- first via the mass consensual delusion that is the Internet, and most recently through the creation of material offspring (best not to think too much about that).

The future of the Vonder Haar hallucination is open to speculation, but the consequences for civilization as we know it are certain to be dire.

Pete Vonder Haar is the current nom de net of media entity Brian O'Blivion. In the early 1980s, Prof. O'Blivion gained fame as a television personality, but as the Internet gained prominence, he made the media jump to the online world, and in the process, changed his name.

Prof. O'Blivion once noted that "The television screen is the retina of the mind's eye." As Pete Vonder Haar, he is at the moment uncertain as to whether the Internet is the mind itself, or merely the colon.

"Whoa, slow down Frenchy. This stuff is gold."

These are all fantastic. Keep 'em coming (it'll keep me from thinking about how I'm going to splice them all together).

Following the collapse of the soviet union, a dejected young Comrade Vonder Haar wandered across Europe searching for a new homeland. Stripped of his glorious position as head of the Personal Hygiene brigade of the Young Pioneers, Vonder Haar grew depressed and turned to drink.

His fate was transformed over night when, in the midst of a 3-day bender at Stockholm's Lydmar
Hotel bar, another patron of the establishment tuned the TV in to a U.S. satellite network. The haze cleared from Vonder Haar's head in response to a strange, pleasing sound coming from the television:

"Before I show you how to make a fortune in real estate, let me tell you my story. Me and my family came to America broke. I couldn't speak English at the time… I still couldn't speak English now, but I found a way to make a fortune in real estate investment and I went on to teach thousands across America how to do the same. If you want to make a fortune in real estate, come to my FREE seminar."

A shot of adrenaline rushed through Vonder Haar. His fate was suddenly clear and that fate had a name: Tommy Vu.

The hotel owner - eager to have Vonder Haar leave his establishment before another major fire was started by a cigarette fallen from his drunken lips - loaned him the money to buy a plane ticket to Houston. The rest is history. Today, Vonder Vu World Enterprises employs more spokesmodels than any other corporation in the entire world.

Pete Vonder Haar is Wayne Dolcefino.

(with all apologies to George R. R. Martin and Monty Python)

Ron and Carol Sinilinden were a quiet, easygoing couple who lived on a beet farm in rustic Idaho. Together they ran the Sinilinden family farm, which had been one of the largest beet producing farms in the country for generations on Ron's side. They liked to retire for the evening with a cup of tea and sorbet and they would often discuss the day's events, be they chasing rabbits out of the beet patches or putting up fences or hardball politics. This they did decade after decade, until they one day died and were buried without much fanfare. Since they remained childless and hence could not have any relation to "Pete", they do not appear in this biography.

Pete "The Hammer" von der Haar grew up in relative obscurity, never dreaming or knowing of the fame he would one day achieve. As a youth he spent hours daydreaming about big hair and he spent all of his free time learning to play the electronic keyboard. He got his nickname, "The Hammer", not from being some sort of brute or for wielding tools of carpentry in threatening and deadly manners, but for his idolatry of Jan Hammer, the keyboardist of Miami Vice fame. Pete's obsession with the keyboard kept him off of the mean streets of Antwerp and rocketed him into near-stardom in eastern Europe, culminating with his solo act opening for the guy who opened for the duo that recorded in the same studio as Mr. Jan Hammer himself. Alas, the early 80s had already whizzed by Pete in a blur, and there was no further need for big keyboard bridges and solos in pop music anymore. A-ha never returned his calls, Jan Hammer sent only an autographed 8x10 glossy in return to his requests for a studio session, and even Yamaha stopped comping him keyboards. Never one to back down, Pete hammered away at his keyboard still and attempted to convert his talents to the silver screen with big movie soundtracks, a la John Carpenter and Brad Fiedel, but the Hammer found his market over-saturated and impervious to his blows as well.

It was then that Pete entered his dark years, and he tried to run from everything, even his moniker. He disappeared into the east and rumor has it he trained intensely with the swordmaster Syrio Florel. Pete returned three years later, insisting on being called "The Needle". His talents now were focused on swordplay and its rise in popularity on the silver screen. He narrowly missed out on the part to play Conan the Barbarian, but his swordplay was excellent - better than Mr. Schwarzenegger's - but in the end they were looking for someone a bit more "Mr. Universe-ish" (Pete bitterly contends to this day that Conan's utterances of "Crom!" were all based on his own ad-libs during the call-back). Pete "The Needle" then got his big break by playing the understudy for the stand-in for Chow Yun-Fat in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" and the rest, as they say, is elementary history, dear Watson.

Having made it to the top, Pete today spends his time writing his blog from his obscure beet farm in Idaho, which he and his family bought from the recently-deceased and heir-less Sinilinden family, who as it turns out, do appear in this story after all.