The body of this slow-talking, fault-finding cultural critic draws dust and dirt molecules to itself as if possessing the gravity of the sun. Also unfortunately born a sweaty, sweaty man, the accrual of this debris gives him the appearance of being covered in mud. Dungeon master. Lover of graph paper. Encyclopedic knowledge of b-movies like Robot Holocaust, Robot Monster, Plan 9 from Outer Space, The Abominable Dr. Phibes, etcetera etcetera. Quietly decisive in moments of crisis. 8-bit Nintendo expert. Host of late-night cable access TV movie show. Probably, honestly, the coolest guy in the house. Basement bedroom, just past the washer and dryer.