Jonathon Olenick is a bum who discovered the Internet at the local public library. "Wow, this is weird," he said after logging on for the first time. He tried to view some porn, but the library firewall forbade such viewings. "Hm," he said. Then he took a swig of cheap whiskey. "Har," he muttered. Then he burped.
He soon realized that there was something that he could spend some time trying to discover on the Internet: postmodern tales which incorporate magic realism, the constitutional ethic of children's stories, with monkey boy heroes. To his drunken chagrin, however, he found no such stories to read online. But, before he could utter the words "this sucks ass!" or "dastardly Net! How thou offendest me!" a thought occurred to him: he himself, Jonathon Mortimer Olenick, could pen the monkey boy stories. "After all, I do have that degree in comparative theology and I used to write all the time before I became a raging drunk and once I even won the Nobel prize for my story about Woozu the Failed Tortoise!"
Mr. Olenick often fails to recall correctly his doings and achievements. There was no prize. No stories about Woozu. Nor were there any degrees in Comparative Anything. There was only himself, his bottle, and a dirty computer terminal at Sloughbourn's Consolidated Public Library and a confused desire to type and offend.