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About The Author
The Most Reverend Antonio Hernández
takes confession

So many questions have been raised about me-- not among the least of which have been questions about my sanity and my background. Thus I offer here a classic, old-school author’s autobiographical sketch, for those few intrepid readers who might still care.
In which case, I would have a few questions of my own about their sanity.
Read on, my friends, and find out all there is to know...
...About the Author
Dedicated to Richard Bissell

The Most Reverend Antonio Hernández was born to stupendously educated parents in Chicago, Illinois. At an impressionable age he was transported with all 17 of his immediate family in tow, to Milltown, across state and situated on the banks of the Mighty Mississippi. After a happy seven-year stint at his one-room red brick schoolhouse, during which time he was mistaken for someone else on a yearly basis after summering in Mexico, he arrived at Junior High school.
To him it looked like Harvard upon arrival, and after his three years were nearly up it looked like Alcatraz. He did not do much at Milltown High, as he was fond of city bus rides across the river during the school year. After demonstrating an incomprehensible brilliance in some fields and highly enjoyed failure in others, he graduated a few months late. He paid karmically for his mischief by never being able to afford a class ring.

By this time he was touted as the next Norman Rockwell-- but sadly it was not due to the quality of his painting, but to his immense personal charm. He had also published enough poetry to fill a good albeit small library-- but oddly, no one cared and the ghosts of Anne Sexton and Dylan Thomas remained undisturbed.

He was forced into menial jobs during the Eternal Reagan Years, during which time he swore he saw tumbleweeds blowing through downtown. He had to look after his parents, who after all were not getting any younger than he was. He took his lumps in college, where he met A.W., his lifelong sweetie (this one turned out to be the permanent one).

He lives in East Milltown, Illinois, where he is routinely mocked for being a "Westerner", while back home in Milltown-- which is a 10-minute drive away-- he is cruelly ostracized for defecting eastward. Still he feels at home in these places. He feels equally at home in the Rockies in Colorado, where he was secretly ordained a Buddhist priest of the Zen stripe, deep in a cave by the famous Colorado Rockies Buddhist Faeries.

Thus he was also responsible for massive bet losses and a few contemplated suicides.
He is comfortable in his monastic chambers (which actually are permitted to Buddhist monks of all persuasions) nestled amidst his library which has been a cause for concern to some. His ministry as a priest suffers "annual losses" which in itself is a lively topic of conversation among the Baptist townies [thanks, Mr. Bissell]. He assuages the effects of these antics by taking long walks in his beloved Riverqeue Cemetery, where he is always promptly chased by fat dogs off their leashes while their owners look the other way.

Most Reverend Antonio Hernández remains a bachelor with no children, but he has his intrepid A.W., who unfortunately still comes equipped with a horrendous mother and an even worse grandmother. He writes for Hackwriters (you read it here first, folks) and has published two books available for free on-line, both indelibly boring.

His hobby is telling strangers that he lives in retirement off the coast of Wales on an island with no postal service or electricity [thanks again, Mr. Bissell]. Even so, he may never be allowed to retire in spite of his other beloved hobby, which is avoiding writers, artists, poets and priests at all costs.

© Rev Antonio Hernandez 2003
email: "Antonio. Hernandez"

Nirvana: The True Emotions
Reverend Antonio Hernández, O.M.D.
"Such a one who can control his anger is like one who can masterfully steer a chariot pulled by 10,000 elephants," the Buddha said.

Yoda! The Little Green Man Gets Dissected

Star Wars- Attack of the Giggles

Men In Black Berets
'a black-béreted, sleek, lean, mean defense machine'

Set Alaska Free?

One Nation under Scrutiny
Thomas Jefferson, for example, wrote a great deal about God, yet he was an atheist.

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