George Waters
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First, let me just say that I know you have many options for clicking, and I thank you for clicking on "About George."

Since I monitor the click-throughs to this page with highly sophisticated, Internet-based click-through counting counters, I can assure you, statistically, that by being interested in my bio, you have joined a rare group of people which numbers in the high single digits.

I was born in the early 1960's, a small hairless biped, in Southern California. This quickly changed. The hairless part, I mean. Ask anyone who has seen me at the beach. (See: Yeti). So I am what is known as a "native Californian," a phrase which implies a certain smug superiority over all other Californians who did not have the gumption to get their parents to move to California before they were born.

The main perk of being a native Californian is that at a tender age you learn that if the 405 is jammed, you can take the 105 to the 110 to the 10 to the 5 instead. Plus there is the rare opportunity to soak up so much sunshine by third grade that by the time you are 50, your face will look like a saddle.

The downside is that every year, many native Californians drown when they run outside and turn their faces to the sky to find out what that water is that's falling from the clouds. In any case, I spent my native childhood in a small town not far from Los Angeles which shall be nameless, because if I named it, you would steal my identity. I know you.

In high school, I became interested in theater, because that was the building where the pretty girls were. In theater classes, and in plays, I was often required to kiss pretty girls, which, being shy, was pretty much the only action I got in high school. I say "pretty much" because my mother will be reading this.

I then attended a small college in Orange County, which shall be nameless, because you will steal its identity. There I actually majored in theater, doing lots of serious drama and not nearly so much kissing. By the time I figured out that the English majors were doing all the kissing, it was too late to switch.

After graduating, I spent several years "paying my dues" in the entertainment industry, after which I was fully qualified to be, well, a magazine circulation manager. Yes, I know, making sure your company's magazines are distributed in the proper quantity to the proper supermarket or doctor's office each month may sound glamorous, but I can assure you it involved many a night nursing paper cuts too.

Every Sunday about this time, a free newspaper would get thrown at my house. One issue had an ad saying they needed a new columnist, and though I had not written anything since my high school newspaper, I was inexplicably hired.

I started out writing a biweekly column, which is either a column twice a week or every other week. I can never remember, and don't tell me you can. After a few years, this became a weekly column, then space opened up in the company's paid newspapers in the Los Angeles area, and the column began appearing in them as well.

After five years of writing for local papers, I decided to launch this Web site, because I felt the wider world needed greater access to skunk jokes. So I built this site myself from the ground up, which I highly recommend if you want to save a lot of money on Web designers, and are really hot to pull out what remains of your thinning hair. If you don't have thinning hair, and want some, I recommend writing a weekly humor column.

Long story short, this whole thing was the result of strangers throwing free newspapers at my house. My suggestion to you is, get a fence.

If you would like to comment about this bio, the site's design, the columns, or how smokin' hot my hair was back in '76, you may reach me by using the "Contact George" link below. I promise to respond to every message personally, or have my people do it.

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