When historians attempt to catalogue the significance of my story in a 9 volume leather bound abbreviated life “sketch” I am certain they will find it necessary to reach back to possibly the most historically significant moment that western civilization has been required to digest, 1977. As I formed in mother’s womb, the central fiber of the universe was tearing right down the middle. 1977, the year that Elvis died, Saturday Night Fever was hot, and Star Wars IV was first released in theaters. This triune bond of supernatural energy was clearly orbiting around my formation as if to say, “wait….wait….wait for it.” My first few breaths were of a different air than man had previously know. Not wanting to imply prophet status, I’ll allow you to infer whatever you would like; this life was destined to fill a void left by the king’s death.
It’s also the year they caught Son of Sam, a serial killer who claimed his neighbor’s dog “Harvey” told him to do it.