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Today's Featured Biography

Danny Barbuto

Upon graduation, I was slated to attend the State University of New York at New Paltz. My first semester there I discovered a student-run organization and soon championed to their cause. PCEW, or People for the Confirmed Existence of Wyoming, was dedicated to proving once and for all that the state of Wyoming is in fact real. All semester long I spread the gospel of the 44th state. During winter break PCEW and I trekked cross-country in search of elusive Wyoming. We made it as far as Nebraska. Although none of us ever saw for sure what lies beyond Nebraska's western border, deep in our hearts we know it to be Wyoming.

In the spring I shifted my focus on my inventions. Dehydrators were big, back then, among the dried fruit community. After arduously thinking about the needs of the market, I believed I had stumbled across the next trend. I know what you're thinking: rehydrators, right? Nope, I did one better with my de-rehydrator. Sadly consumers preferred my competition's re-dehydrator, which is ridiculous because everyone knows it's easier to reverse hydration than it is to dehydrate something again.

I had much greater success with an invention named Professor Humbert Huffnagle's Device for the Transportation of Liquidous and Semi-Liquidous Edibles to the Palette. My critics called it a spoon. I called it genius.

It was around this period when I discovered the secret of time travel. For this I was nominated for the Nobel Prize in physics. I would have won it, too, but sadly I didn't do well in the swimsuit competition. I won't bore with the details of my adventures through time, but let's just say that thanks to me no one experienced the Swiss-Canadian Invasion of 2002. Aside from the occasional cryptic warning from the future, I no longer dabble in time. (Don't drink the milk. You know who you are.)

Tragedy struck later that summer when family member, Bob the Goldfish, passed away after a two month battle with hard water poisoning. At his eulogy I related how several months prior I was in a real bad way. With nowhere else to go, I approached Bob's bowl one evening. "Bob," I confided, "I'm at the end of ropes. Nothing seems to be working out for me. I can't handle it anymore. What should I do, Bob? What should I do?" I'll never forget his response as he swam there with a vacant look in his eyes: "glug." Darn goldfish saved my marriage.

Money wasn't much of a problem for me those days, for I had recently made friends with eccentric billionaire W. Wally Wallington III. If you can only make friends with one billionaire, make sure it's the eccentric kind. Wally was known for making strange deals with people. He once paid $400 for half a tube of toothpaste. Another time he gave a brand yacht to the winner of a "Why I Would Like a Brand New Yacht" essay contest. Wally agreed to pay me $2000 a week for the rest of my life. All I had to do was never again write the word "sousaphone." Aw, crap!

Early on in 2003, I accidentally wrote "2002" on the top of a check by mistake. Man, did I crack up about that one! I don't know how long I laughed. I'd have to say a solid 45 seconds, at least. Then for fun, on the memo line of the check I decided to write, "For screws to attach my head to my neck, because if I don't screw my head to my neck, I'll probably forget that, too!" Only there wasn't enough room. So I decided to tell the bank teller my joke, instead. She half chuckled. I think she really thought it was funny, because after she was done with me she went over to bank manager to tell him my joke. Although she might have just been going to get a roll of quarters. Also in 2003 I was almost convicted of treason.

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